taragwrites.com

2/22/20026

The one thing the chaos in the world is teaching me is to pace things. I’m learning that I lose my edge when I get all gung-ho over a topic, or a person, or an event, or anything. I have to pace myself to keep the edge, the ability to use those things I’m good at.

I use Sundays to reset my pace. I step back, as best I can, from all of the trash and glitter of the previous week. Doomscrolling is forbidden. I take the time to evaluate and assess successes. Was it really a success? Who was it a success for? Was it gratuitous? Does it fit into a further purpose, either my own or someone else’s? I also look at the chaotic or disappointing events, hopefully through a more patient lens. What has it changed or will it even change anything? Do I have even a modicum of control over it? Are there any actions I can take to affect it either for good or evil?

Sundays are devoted to music. Music greatly affects me emotionally. Sometimes it’s an all classical, low-key playlist. Sometimes, like today, it’s an all classical dramatic, crashing, playlist. There are other Sundays that see me belting out showtunes with soundtracks or revisiting an earlier time in my life with golden oldies.

I try to do at least one domestic thing on Sundays since chances are I’ve done none during the week. My abode displays this in neon lights. Today I changed the furnace filter and did a load of laundry. It doesn’t arrest the slide into sloppiness, but it gives me something to do that is estranged from my normal behaviors, a key to pacing.

If my back would allow more than a forty step walk without debilitating pain, I would drive to an open area or park and take in fresh air and silence. I would “touch grass” as they say. I can’t manage that, but Comus, my chihuahua, gets extra outside trips and I breathe deeply from my back steps, take note of the bird life (usually grackles and doves), and count it as a touch grass session.

This week, I took my reflections into the realm of expectations and reality. I have been head down, seriously working on the cozy mystery all week. I’ve been here before with other projects which now sit nearly but not quite completed in a file. I spent a lot of time today asking myself if there’s anything different this time. The answer I truly believe is yes. Of course, this train of thought led to defining what is different and what is the reality.

This time I’ve immersed myself in the genre. Not just reading comparable works, but truly researching what it is, why, and how to create it. I’ve taken the time to indulge in planning of a sort. I’ve detailed details, drawn a map of the setting making sure each character fits in. Did some listening to lectures and podcasts, joined a class, contributed to a forum, studied author beat worksheets, as well as reading in the genre.

Pacing. I can’t write the book in a day, a week, or even a month. Therefore, it only stands to reason that I make sure I’m using the time to create the best I can so that later, the time spent on preparing for publication can go faster. I can’t make an impassioned speech to America that would start wheels rolling to inject sanity into our government and begin to remove the rot. But I can keep my edge in both arenas.