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When Nothing Goes As Planned
 Posted by Gwynlyn MacKenzie Jul 21 2011, 12:01 am in perseverance, Trouble, women's strength, writer's life, writing through difficulty Yes, I know the Coming Soon area has advertised this post as “I LOVE New York.” That was the plan—until life intervened. The gal who took the photos I need had a family medical emergency. Adding to her stress for a few pictures struck me as beyond ridiculous. The topic isn’t life changing, and is certainly not more important than her dad’s health. As I started to panic about a substitute topic, however, I realized the circumstance had already provided one, and it’s relevant to women and women writers everywhere. Sometimes life really su . . . ah . . . stinks. Our ducks are in a row, every T is crossed, every I dotted, and just when we sit back to take a relieved breath . . . Trouble.
Now, you can do the whole wailing and gnashing of teeth thing (in fact, I recommend it on occasion. Get those emotions vented and give your psyche a break), but don’t let that be all you do. Don’t forget there is one thing over which you ALWAYS have control; the way you handle yourself. I’m not a big television fan, and one of the reasons is how often the storyline includes a sick or wounded child. While not welcome subject matter, that’s not the part that chafes. What chafes—all the way to the bone—is the close-ups of mothers screaming, tearing their hair, interfering with the EMTs, and otherwise being useless or obstructive. Come on. Let’s get real, shall we? No mother I know would behave that way. Fall apart? You bet. But not then. Not where her child could see and become even more frightened. To a child, Mom keening like an professional mourner means but one thing; that child is dying. No mother of my acquaintance is that obtuse. Not that selfish, pay-attention-to-me-I’m-suffering females don’t exist; they do, but the ability to whelp does not a mother make. For a mom, the first thought is always for the child’s well-being. For women who love, regardless of the relationship, the loved one always takes precedence. Women are strong. Many times, they are stronger than even they believe themselves to be. Do they stagger under the load? Of course they do. The thing can be crushing. But it doesn’t stop them, and here’s why. Women share. When things get overwhelming, women talk to each other. The chosen friend doesn’t even have to advise most of the time. All she needs do is listen, for in the act of speaking, of making the chaos into cohesive sentences so it can be understood, order must be established. Thoughts are no longer careening wildly though a neurological maelstrom of disjointed mind-traffic, bouncing off each other with enough force to fuse atoms. Even if the sharing starts as a rant, soon verbalizing erects a yield sign or a stop light, slowing the flow, defining the trajectory, until the diatribe is reduced to a steady, governable stream. Many are the times a friend’s ear—with an occasional nod or uh-huh—is all it takes to encourage and inspire. If more is needed, then a friend will do what she can to lighten the load confident, should the need ever arise, the favor will be returned in full measure. Women understand the use of calendars or planners. Yes, men use them, too, but if you look at a man’s, it’s all about work, golf dates, his dentist appointment, etc. A woman, especially one with children at home, may pour her coffee before consulting her calendar or planner, but that’s about it. As she sips, she’s absorbing where she must be at what time and for whom, who has a birthday, what’s coming up that requires a gift she can grab while doing other errands, etc. Conflict? Drat. Still haven’t mastered the whole two places at one time thing, but teammate’s mom should be having the same difficulty. Maybe a call, a split of responsibilities, and all will be well. When life bites us, these same tactics can be employed. Few of us like the regimentation of it, but know it’s the only way to keep the traffic moving at a manageable pace. Note phone calls that must be made, visiting hours, doctor appointments, whatever you need to keep yourself in order. Will you need documentation for those phone calls? Write it down. Prepare yourself. You have enough on your plate. You don’t need the small details to further fluster you. Oh, and don’t forget to schedule a little writing time. Whether you realize it or not, the writer in you needs affirmation, too. Women are list-makers. Personally, I hate lists. I rarely make them, but one day, as I ticked off things I needed to do in my head, I realized why I didn’t carry a physical list; I had a mental one. When things get too crazy, however, a physical list, no matter your feelings about it, can save you the ignominy of the headless chicken dance. You know the one: You run this way, that way, turn a few circles, wave your arms, bounce off a few things, and end up in an exhausted heap having accomplished nothing. Lists give you a concrete plan, help keep you on track, but unless your name is Wilma Flintstone, they aren’t written in stone. When you’ve reached crisis mode, however, making a doable list can be difficult. You want to write something like “Make It All Go Away!” While there is magic in the world, this doesn’t qualify for fairygodmother intervention. However, if you need to write it, then do so and call it your Pompeii Pizza or your Larry the Cable Guy (Get ‘er done!) Casserole—whichever works for you. Either way, you know you can’t gulp the whole thing down in one bite. You have to cut it into slices or portions. Each should have a name or title depending on what you want to accomplish. Be facetious, if it helps. The only one who needs understand them is you. These will be the foundation of your list. Now you have the slice or portion, get a knife and fork. There’s only one way to consume a whole pizza or casserole: one bite at a time. Name those bites, put them in order, and start chewing. Belly full? Put what’s left in the fridge; you can start again tomorrow. Writers should think in terms of novel length; not a single one of us would attempt writing a novel in one sitting. We do it in sentences, paragraphs, scenes, and chapters, confident the book will get written. The same thing applies for getting through life’s crises. Women are flexible. Women tend to triage. Yes, all the items on the list need attention, but when a friend needs a shoulder, a child needs reassurance, a parent or sibling needs a little TLC, or some other emotional or physical need requires attention, priorities are what they are—and they can change at a moment’s notice. Women recognize limitations. Unlike our masculine counterparts, women aren’t out to prove they can take on the world with one hand. There are things we can’t do without help. Now, that help can be human or machine—we don’t cavil about silly stuff—as long as it gets the job done. Fiction is our job of choice. Reality is where we live, and reality can sucker-punch the best of us. Writers are particularly vulnerable because many of us are employed outside the home, as well. Finding time when baby is napping or the chores are done is one thing; taking time your family thinks should be theirs adds a whole new layer of stress and guilt to the load. Throw in a left hook or two, and you could be down for the count. No matter how strong we are, some circumstances will destroy us if we let them.
Until the gale came. The oak fought, pitting its rigid strength against the wind. The willow, however, didn’t even attempt to fight. It simply acknowledged the storm’s might and bowed before it. And when, at last, the wind ceased, the stalwart oak lay dying, ripped from the ground by the violent storm. The willow, although battered and torn, still stood. What it saw as its weakness had become its strength. Women are intelligent enough to know there are times they must stand strong and risk everything. They also know there are times it is wisest to bend with the wind. It’ll strip away leaves, tear a few branches, might even claim a limb or two, but in the end, the heart of the tree remains intact, prepared to regroup and regrow. Adversity strikes us all, sooner or later, but a woman’s heart is a formidable organ. As long as it beats, hope lives. Add a couple of friends and a dash of determination, and there is little that heart can’t overcome.
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Trouble comes in many forms: A sudden illness, whether yours or of a loved one. A household emergency that puts you knee-deep in water or necessitates a call to the local fire department. Auto accidents. Acts of God. Job/income loss. And a plethora of things that seem more suited to prime time or cheesy movies. The list often seems endless. Whatever it is, there is only one thing of which you are certain; it’s beyond your control.
I once read a fable about an oak and a willow. In it, the oak stood majestic and strong, its boughs thrust upward to the heavens, overshadowing a willow, its fibrous boughs trailing the ground.
I too have become quite the list maker. There is simply too much to do on any given day. So when something does go wrong, I’ve got that list to steer me in the right direction.
And, wow, I love willow trees. Even more now.
Great post, Gwynlyn. You are a testament to everything you’ve stated here. I admire you so very much.
~D~
Thanks, doll, but you give me too much credit. Adversity has smacked this group around more than once, but we still stand, strong and united. The resilience of the Rubies is inspiring on so many levels. This post reflects that.
I still hate lists, I’m pretty much Queen Pantser about everything, but have been forced to acknowledge they make excellent rudders in high seas. I became quite good at the Headless Chicken Dance before I finally caved, however.
Amen!
And yeah, I’m Queen Pantser too. I’m trying to learn the value of schedules and lists, but *sigh* it is SO hard!
I agree, but to get where we’re going and do what needs doing, we usually need a compass of some sort. GPS doesn’t cut it on some of the paths we walk, so lists it is.
Learning to bow in the wind is a great talent! Thanks for the validation!
Any time, Diana. I remember reading that story many years ago (as evidenced by its retelling), and didn’t give it much thought, as young people are wont to do. Then that nasty waved of storms went through, and watching the trees weave and bob brought it to mind. It stuck this time, and I realized most of the women of my acquaintance have the capacity to be both oak and willow, depending on the circumstance. It’s a good talent to have.
I love the story of the trees. I’ve heard it before, but it’s so, so powerful. Thank you for the validation this morning, Gwynlyn. And boy, you hit the nail on the head about schedules and list-making. I never thought about a man’s versus a woman’s schedules before, but you’re so right. Mine is full of the entire family’s appointments. My husband? He doesn’t have a schedule/planner. He uses his phone to alert him to the 2-3 key appointments each week. I think I’d go insane without my planner! LOL
I screwed up again. See below.
No problem, I got the message.
Thanks again for the supportive words.
Lots of hugs coming your way, Anne Marie. I know your circumstances so am glad this Rah-Rah post gave you a bit of a lift. {{{{Hugs}}}
First of all, Gwyn, can I say I’m totally in awe of you for coming up with a blog this good on a moment’s notice. No…really. It takes me FOREVER to come up with a topic and then another FOREVER to write about it. It’s why I don’t blog very often.
Second, your blog had me singing I am Woman Hear Me Roar. It’s good to be reminded of all things we are capable of. I sooo needed this today, thanks.
Thanks, Tina. Anything that makes my friends burst into song is a good thing in my book! *G*
Most of my blogs are what I call “Rah-Rah” blogs with cause; life gets grey and foggy sometimes, and it takes a sharp knife or a good boot to get us past that and remind us what’s on the other side.
Glad this one served it’s purpose.
ditto, Tina, it takes me forever to come up with topics, too. I’m in awe of those who can blog like this!
I say it is what it is. You have two choices deal or don’t.
Thanks for this. You are a rock.
Thanks, hon. There are times this rock wants to dig a nice hole and really destroy a few tractor blades! Or simply go away for a while, but that’s not an option. Women like us, we just keep on keepin’ on.
Gwyn, I know I’m late, very late, but thank you so much for writing this blog. I certainly needed it. You lift me up, sister.
Any time, AJ. As Ruby Good Witch, it’s my job description, dontcha know. And, as long as I don’t have to wear pink and speak in an annoying shrill, sugary voice, I’m good with it. *G* {{{{Hugs}}}}
Oh, I love the fable of the oak and the willow, Gwynlyn! So true.
I’m a huge fan of lists. Crossing tasks off my lists give me a such a weird sense of satisfaction!
I’ll bet you’re also a plotter when it comes to writing, Vanessa. Lists and plotting seem to go hand-in-hand. But I can see where you’d get satisfaction in crossing things out; a visual record of accomplishment is validating.
Gwynlyn, you’re psychic! I am a plotter, but I used to be a pantser. I need direction!
Sorry I’m late to the party! Wonderful post as usual. I make lists in my head most of the time. But when I get really busy, there’s nothing like putting it all down on a piece of paper so I can’t forget something.
Amen, sister!