Flowing with the Ebb
There is a part of writing that sits in my hands and a part that doesn’t. This tends to bug me. I prefer to twine my fingers around everything I can possibly reach. Give me all the strings, let me pull them as I see fit, and all is well. If things are moving slow–or not moving at all–my tendency is to dig in and force something to happen.
And my do I have experience with forcing. When the obstacles come, I vow to slam every single one flat. I will conquer! (she said in battle-cry tone). But here’s the thing, I’m starting to think this isn’t necessarily the right response every single time. That verse about seasons comes to mind… a time to tear down, a time to build up, one for weeping versus laughing… But I thought every season still involved some sort of action.
A few days ago I asked God to help me with the next right step in my writing career. Start outlining a new project? Edit the existing project? Please, God, give me some direction, and I will gladly zoom in with gusto. Huzzah! This forward motion feels good to me, even cathartic. But I sensed a nudge to wait.
That’s right, the next right step for me is to wait. Which felt so much like a non-answer. Let’s move, let’s go! I shouldn’t be completely shocked by this guidance. He’s led me to wait before, and good, good things happened because of that season of rest. Things that couldn’t have possibly happened without the wait. But… did I mention how much I like to move? Because I really, really do.
So that’s where I’m at. I’m reading. I’m free writing. I’m waiting. And wondering. What do you do when you’re taking a rest from your craft? What has come from such breathers?