Stalling

I’ve been in a holding pattern on a couple of things. This would not be a problem if I had carefully reasoned out a course of action and decided that it was time to wait. That is not the case. I just defaulted into the pattern because it was easier than putting for emotional effort and time. But I’m not sure the holding pattern is actually saving me anything and it is definitely contributing to a feeling of futility. Time to kick these things into the middle of my brain and really look at them so that I can stop stalling.

The Diswhasher:
Ours failed fairly catastrophically a couple of weeks ago. We mopped up the mess and called a repairman to come look at it. His verdict was that the appliance was unrepairable due to the hole melted by the shorted out heating element. In the normal course of events, we would stomp our feet a little and then go buy a new one. But our finances are tight and so I paused before dashing out. In fact I have yet to even look at new dishwashers. Even when a flood of useful comments and information responded to my post, I still did nothing except continue washing the dishes by hand. I am the only one doing the washing. I haven’t even set up the rotating dishwasher schedule that requires the kids to help. I was presented with a problem, but instead of setting out to solve it, I have been waiting. This makes no sense. Washing dishes by hand does not make me noble. It does not make me eligible for an “excellent housekeeping” prize. It isn’t even more environmentally sound. If we are suddenly ambushed by busy, I will still have no dishwasher and I will also not have the time to hand wash. I can’t ignore the problem out of existence and so I am going to have to solve it. Tomorrow morning I’ll be headed out to look at dishwashers.

Writing:
I expected to do a flood of writing this Fall. I expected to send the kids off to school and be filled with a driving need to compose words that I could submit for publication. Instead I was buried in school-adjustment neediness. But that has subsided, and I still haven’t been doing any writing other than blog entries. I thought about writing. I organized my notes into neat folders. I figured out which projects still felt alive and which I wanted to archive. But any time I pondered actually writing anything, none of it felt compelling. I did not feel a driving need to get any of it done, so I wandered off and filled my time with other things. Some of those other things were important, but many of them were less emotionally important than writing. Yesterday I read Dan Wells’ post entitled “No one will knock on your door and ask you to write a book.” The whole post is good, but what hit me hard was the title, because that is what I have been doing. I haven’t actually been waiting for a person to show up and ask me to write, but I have been waiting for something internal to stand up and demand that the writing be done now. I could wait a long time for that Writer voice to be louder than the Entertain Me voice. I could wait for months or even years. I have the space in my schedule. I just have to declare some of that space as writing time. Then I have to sit down and do writer things during that time. I have to write words even if I feel like they suck. I have to put in the effort and trust that the drive and inspiration will arrive. This is not a ground shaking realization. Any pro writer will tell you this is necessary. I even knew it logically, but I was still stalling instead of writing. Yesterday I worked on some fiction. Today I revised an essay. It is a start.