Trickle-trickle, ding-ding
The importance of knowing your season
“Trickle, trickle” is the set to my drama in the Pediatric ICU right now. The sound of our child’s drip is soothing. I can occasionally hear a baby cry in the distance, and a reasonably frequent ding-ding reverberates through the wing, letting nurses know when to check lines or what levels signify additional comfort measures.
I look down at my feet, not touching the floor because the gray pleather recliner I’m sitting in is elevated just enough that I can’t reach the linoleum beneath me.
The peace inside, however, rises like the floor that would if it could. Like “The Floor Is Lava” game that my kids used to play just a few short years ago.
I remember them jumping from couch to couch, leaping over mountains of laundry, trying to avoid the slick laminate or cozy rug that signified ding-ding, you’re out, game over.
Yet here I sit with my youngest, at the edge of teenage years, holding her finger while she recovers quietly from surgery. This, though, is listening.
It is hearing breath, noticing sound, and… yet, simultaneously, listening to silence.
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In late August, before the soaked air of Georgia could dry up with the crunchy leaves of September and October, I signed up to attend a writers' conference I’d wanted to attend for the last three years.
While we knew we’d be moving the following year, it was more of a small hope, a silent prayer, than anything definite. So why not take a trip? Especially since the conference was in sunny Florida. In January.
I watched the emails fly around, the social media posts with fellow writing friends asking who was going and if they would want to room together.
So I leaped. I booked an Airbnb and sat on it. I figured it was early enough; if I changed my mind, I hadn’t lost any real money…yet. I could get my reservation refunded up to a month before the conference. It would be fine.
Meanwhile, I continued working, shuffling teens to friends’ houses, carpooling runs to church and school, and taking weekend trips to enjoy the fall weather. I wasn’t very engaged in any new writing, but I still felt great about making progress (even though I’d shelved the novel I was working on and had just wrapped up my last ghostwriting project for a client).
While the writing well was running a little low, it was okay. I’d be fine. I was headed across the bridge to the beach to meet up with writing friends I only knew online but who had become comrades on this wild ride called freelance work.
Then, a feeling. A silent… yet.
Just a tiny thought that wouldn’t go away. Maybe I should postpone the conference. I don’t see any reason why I shouldn’t go. We lost a house we’d offered and didn’t see any on the horizon to jump at. Emotionally, we’d taken a few hits; breaking my elbow at one of my fall-weather weekend getaways didn’t help.
Still, there wasn’t a solid reason to cancel. But I listened to that little voice and canceled my Airbnb booking anyway. I decided to forgo even the online attendance of the conference for who knows why… yet.
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This cold, windy Atlanta weekend, when my daughter was having life-saving surgery at our children’s hospital, is the same weekend I would have been traveling to Florida, would have been crossing a bridge despite my growing anxiety about crossing bridges, and yet would’ve told myself it was worth it to make progress, to meet friends in real life who understood the ebbs and flows of a writing life.
Yet… I am incredibly thankful that’s not where I am. I am grateful I listened to that little voice and identified my season. Valuing a “yet” can be just as crucial as making “it” happen (whatever your writing “it” happens to be).
Knowing what season we’re in as writers is like a cake. We can make the icing for the cake, but the icing gets wasted if we don’t take the time to bake the cake.
If I hadn’t followed that little voice inside that said the conference may not be what was right for me, if I’d decided earlier in the year to push forward with revisions and shopping my novel, if I’d followed my emotions about a house that we offered on and lost, trying to soothe with a trip instead of living in the disappointment, I would not be here now.
Staying up half the night with a little girl who needed her mama.
Rejoicing in the incredibly caring, encouraging family, friends, and community around us.
Capable of looking into the near-distant future and seeing a house being built that we’ll move to, God willing, this summer.
Able to push pause on some writing projects, knowing they’ll still be there when the season is right.
Knowing your season as a writer might be the same as knowing your season as a person. Giving credence to both isn’t always the same.
We sometimes push one ahead while slightly acknowledging the other.
It’s okay to pause if that’s where you are.
It’s okay to move forward on a project if that’s where you are.
It’s okay to mingle between winter and spring, reflecting on your season, taking time to figure it out if that’s where you are.
Some of those I follow online know their seasons, too. (See below.) I’ve also included a few kids’ books that relate to recognizing (and valuing) what you are going through and how you are feeling… just in case you have young people in your life who need to know that it’s okay to live in their season. They won’t be left behind.
Friends, Follows, and Resources - for Parents, Grandparents and Kids
Follow Catherine Ricketts on Instagram to pre-order her new book,”The Mother Artist.” She writes about knowing and working with your season, thriving in motherhood, and expressing creativity.
“Sometimes I Need” by Gabriel Garcia is a picture book that helps kids identify their physical and emotional needs in all seasons of their young lives and find healthy ways to cope.
My friend, Becky Beresford, has written a terrific book about knowing it’s okay to be unable to “do it all.” It’s better to be aware and lean into God’s abilities and ways, she asserts in “She Believed HE Could, So She Did: Trading Culture’s Lies for Christ-Centered Empowerment.”
Do you already know about author Gillian McDunn? She’s written a few middle grade books, but two spring to mind about encountering seasons we don’t expect. One is “Honestly Elliott” about friends moving and navigating a parent’s remarriage, and the other one — “Caterpillar Summer” - is about helping those we love who have different needs and whose seasons take a different route.
Friends, Follows, and Resources - for Writers
Remember last month when I shared that I’d be setting up a paid subscription for those who want to go DEEPER into the craft of writing and editing their work? Well… it’s almost time. I’ll share more about my paid Substack for writers - launching this spring - next month. In the meantime, this post from the leader of Dragonfly Editorial, Samantha Enslen, is a great place to start making a must-read list for writers and editors. She and I were both speakers at last year’s national conference for the American Society of Business Publication Editors.)
Erin Bowman writes about knowing your season and not letting it stop you. Even if you make some progress, small as it is, it could be that’s all you can do right now. And that is okay. Because for some endeavors, “you’re never truly ready,” according to her. And I think she’s right.
Are you looking for a great first-line list - especially regarding kids’ books? Look no further than “First Lines of the Last 30 Newbery Award Winners” on the School Library Journal Blog.
Are you in a ready-to-publish season? Look no further than Agents + Books.