Hello, my readers. Sorry I have been a little distracted for the last couple of weeks. Whenever possible, I have been planing for my next novel but I have been interrupted a lot.
The main reason for the disruption in my work and in blogging was my daughter's high school graduation. Or more precisely, getting her out of high school.
For reasons I won't go into on this blog, my daughter was short a course credit required for graduation. So, since early May, my wife, daughter and I worked many hours getting my daughter to complete an online course in three weeks -- work that should have taken three months. In the end, her principal set a 4 p.m., May 25, deadline for the school to hear from the online administrators that she had passed the course or she couldn't walk with her class at the graduation ceremony the following day.
They got the fax notification at 3:42 p.m., with just 18 minutes to spare.
I stressed out enormously over this graduation. Education is extremely important and something my wife and I greatly value. So getting my daughter out of high school and moving her onto the next major stage in her life development was important. I have earlier blog posts about being a worrier but I was probably more stressed about this graduation-thing than any other thing in quite some time. (There are other details I haven't mentioned regarding my daughter's graduation, so I wasn't just going nuts over the ceremony.)
But she walked and we were all proud.
On Sunday, my oldest daughter and I attended the Indianapolis 500, which we do every year. It was a thrilling race in incredible heat. But she and I survived it and had a wonderful time. I have been a Dario Franchitti fan for many years so I was pleased that he is now a three-time winner in what I think is the world's greatest auto race.
All that is to say I haven't gotten as much writing done in the last two weeks as I should have. But I'm trying to get back into the swing of things.
So, keep writing and thanks for reading.
Showing posts with label Worry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Worry. Show all posts
Tuesday, May 29, 2012
Saturday, November 6, 2010
Worry
I normally try not to write on a subject not directly related to writing. (Yes, I know I do sometimes but I try not to.) This is going to be one of those times because of something that happened last night that I know could have affected my writing for, perhaps, years. Maybe even forever.
When I learned last year that I had cancer I couldn't write fiction for several weeks. I have mentioned that in earlier posts. Today's topic is worry.
I am a worrywart. I try not to be but I am, although worry is generally useless. If you worry, for example, about whether an event will happen, it won't affect whether it happens or not. If the event does happen, your worry didn't stop it. So it was useless. If it doesn't happen, again you worried for nothing.
Now to the point. One of my daugthers, whom told me she'd be home around 10 last night, didn't get home on time. At 10, I wasn't overly surprised. I planned to have a mild conversation about being late and let it go. At 11:30, when she wasn't home and hadn't called, I was seriously getting angry. She wasn't answering any calls or texts. This is odd because her cell phone is an extension of her arm. She is never without it.
At 2 in the morning, I drive by the house where I had dropped her off at 7 p.m. and, not unexpectedly, all the lights are out and everyone is apparently asleep. A call to the house went unanswered. So it's 2:30 in the morning and I don't know where my teenage child is. We called the police.
That's when I started to lose the battle with worry. All sorts of things started going through my head. Injury, death, kidnapping by a middle-easterner and sold into sexual slavery.
And that's when I knew that if something serious happened to either my children or my wife, I would be creatively crippled, and for quite a while. Just the thought of something wrong crippled me last night. I couldn't think. I was gripped with worry.
At 3:32 in the morning she calls home, irritated that I had the police wake everyone in the house when she TOLD me she'd be home at 10 IN THE MORNING after a sleepover with a bunch of girls. And I told her she NEVER mentioned that to me or her mother. Last night wasn't a good night for her to go to a sleepover. I would not have agreed if I knew. She said she was EMBARRASSED. I decided to wait until morning to tell her that a parent's worry trumps embarrassment.
I told the police it was okay for her to stay and then my wife and our other daughter, whom oddly enough is actually mature enough to understand our point of view, went to a Perkin's restaurant and ate breakfast at 4 in the morning. The comfort of sleep didn't come until after 5.
My teenager has always been a good child. She still is. But I swear -- she is going to be the death of me, starting with the creative part of me. And I don't know what I'd do if I couldn't write.
Thanks for reading. Now get back to writing. It is the start of Day 6 of National Novel Writing Month and after five full days I have 16,751 words, which is higher than the 10-day goal of 16,670 words. I hope to reach more than 20,000 by this evening. It can only happen without worry.
Thanks again.
When I learned last year that I had cancer I couldn't write fiction for several weeks. I have mentioned that in earlier posts. Today's topic is worry.
I am a worrywart. I try not to be but I am, although worry is generally useless. If you worry, for example, about whether an event will happen, it won't affect whether it happens or not. If the event does happen, your worry didn't stop it. So it was useless. If it doesn't happen, again you worried for nothing.
Now to the point. One of my daugthers, whom told me she'd be home around 10 last night, didn't get home on time. At 10, I wasn't overly surprised. I planned to have a mild conversation about being late and let it go. At 11:30, when she wasn't home and hadn't called, I was seriously getting angry. She wasn't answering any calls or texts. This is odd because her cell phone is an extension of her arm. She is never without it.
At 2 in the morning, I drive by the house where I had dropped her off at 7 p.m. and, not unexpectedly, all the lights are out and everyone is apparently asleep. A call to the house went unanswered. So it's 2:30 in the morning and I don't know where my teenage child is. We called the police.
That's when I started to lose the battle with worry. All sorts of things started going through my head. Injury, death, kidnapping by a middle-easterner and sold into sexual slavery.
And that's when I knew that if something serious happened to either my children or my wife, I would be creatively crippled, and for quite a while. Just the thought of something wrong crippled me last night. I couldn't think. I was gripped with worry.
At 3:32 in the morning she calls home, irritated that I had the police wake everyone in the house when she TOLD me she'd be home at 10 IN THE MORNING after a sleepover with a bunch of girls. And I told her she NEVER mentioned that to me or her mother. Last night wasn't a good night for her to go to a sleepover. I would not have agreed if I knew. She said she was EMBARRASSED. I decided to wait until morning to tell her that a parent's worry trumps embarrassment.
I told the police it was okay for her to stay and then my wife and our other daughter, whom oddly enough is actually mature enough to understand our point of view, went to a Perkin's restaurant and ate breakfast at 4 in the morning. The comfort of sleep didn't come until after 5.
My teenager has always been a good child. She still is. But I swear -- she is going to be the death of me, starting with the creative part of me. And I don't know what I'd do if I couldn't write.
Thanks for reading. Now get back to writing. It is the start of Day 6 of National Novel Writing Month and after five full days I have 16,751 words, which is higher than the 10-day goal of 16,670 words. I hope to reach more than 20,000 by this evening. It can only happen without worry.
Thanks again.
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