Regret. It’s a part of human nature since the fall of man, and I daresay we are born with having to deal with it. I have regrets. A few are doozies that keep me up some nights. They fall under the categories of immaturity, impetuousness, impatience, denial, poor choices—maybe ones that changed the trajectory of my life—and I’ll admit, foolishness. When I didn’t think or wait on the Lord, or heed the advice of others, but moved forward on my own volition. Tsk, tsk, tsk. Savage!
As an introverted writer, I have to say I’ve rather enjoyed this shelter-in-place era as little has changed in my day-to-day—other than closure of the Cherokee National Forest wherein lies tastes of freedom I particularly enjoy. But as a deep thinker, I’ve found this season especially challenging wherein thoughts can be dangerous. In other words, if the virus doesn’t kill you, or pro/anti-mask-wearers smack you depending on which “side” you’re on, regret just might. Unless you strive for a renewal every morning by God’s Word—our blueprint for life, a barebones necessity, our spiritual water, food, and shelter.
Writing is purpose-filled for me, messages contained within paper or digital pages intended for others. There is sometimes my own therapy in the progression, though. Which leads me to my current WIP (work-in-progress). After receiving emails asking if I’m going to write a sequel to Remnant, with the reemergence of Atizael, the answer is a solid yes. And I’ve started that; however, often the current of creativity demands a drop and refocus.
I’ve switched gears. Working feverishly to finish a book on regret and the transgressions and haunts of our past. It’s in the format of a dark fantasy romance, but the spiritual significance is there, and it’s what I—for some reason—need to spend my time on right now. The current working title at this point is Dark King’s Human Bride. And in being honest, unless my beta readers tell me, “Hey, Chicky, this is a bit much,” it’s coming out a touch graphic. I have a longstanding issue with much of Christian fiction being candy-coated anyway (perhaps more on this in another blog). Human nature is human nature, and evil is evil. Regret in all forms is regret in every form. It is what it is, and I have to be true to the nature of this beast.
But not without good intention! I find a quote by writer Anne Lamott perfect for the launch of this literary ride: “Hope begins in the dark, the stubborn hope that if you just show up and try to do the right thing, the dawn will come. You wait and watch and work: you don't give up.”
This savage has set off. More later.
Being human today means you can hardly do, speak, or blink anything without making waves. So the waves will come: small ones, large ones, and the inbetweeners. But one must persist, unwaveringly, in the turbulent surf by exhibiting kindness, love, and integrity. It’s hard being human. A gentle answer turns away wrath...? (Proverbs 15:1). Okay. But if somebody is especially wrathful, a tsunami, then maybe we just gently turn away. Find another spot in which to wade.
*Image by Patricia Alexandre from Pixabay
While working on my current novel today, the plot took an unexpected turn. Here, I thought I was in control. Yet when my fingers typed and the change suddenly occurred, I shouted, “Why did I do that?” Now I have to reconfigure the outcome. More details to sort through and write. I had presumed I was home free and nearing the finish line. Stories sometimes have minds of their own.
A love/hate relationship, that’s what I have with my smartphone. I love that I can access a library of books and music wherever I go. I love certain apps from the convenient GPS to a metronome. I even favor the alarm clock feature. And there’s a certain level of security with a smartphone. If you get stuck, virtually anything is one call or swipe away.
I hate that I've come to carry my smartphone from the downstairs to the upstairs, room to room. When I realized that leaving the device behind made me apprehensive I decided to go dark for a few days. Yes that’s right, I turned it off and shoved it aside. You know what happened? I plugged into my writing better, met a deadline faster, etc., without multilevel distractions. I had clarity of mind, focus, and the environment held peace. Later in the day I acted kinder, with more patience. And I slept well without the bombardment of texts that I've known to continue to 1 AM. I remember the day when it was considered inappropriate to makes calls or visits after 9 PM. Does text etiquette exist? I wouldn't know.
Maybe this course of action wasn't such a good idea in its entirety, because I did happen to miss a few impromptu engagements. But, I don’t know, it seemed some detachment was needed.
Hello again, world! I've come back to you, to the crazy, hectic, and always a tap-call-or-buzz away by the power of a button. It’s me and my smartphone again. Together we love/hate. Although, I've since come to believe that absence truly does make the heart grow fonder…and healthier…and maybe I shouldn't depend on a device so much, or be at communication’s beck and call without a little therapeutic solitude now and again.
Type-A: high-strung, ambitious, controlling, highly competitive, impatient, time-conscious, uptight, and achievement-driven—to name a few.
Type-B: easy-going, patient, relaxed, calm, collected, productive rather than destructive under stress, lacking overriding sense of urgency—and so forth.
Unfortunately, for those who believe in such theories, you can’t pick which you’d rather possess; the tendencies are supposedly with you since birth.
I’m an all-out Type-A Personality, when, I’d rather be the type that doesn’t let things bother me, like from that niggling impatience. Slackers lose. Early bird gets the worm. Eh!—who am I kidding. Things would be much easier if I could let irritations slide right off my back…just slide off my back. Off my back, now, you hear.