Waiting on Me

Reflections on empty time

Hey! How long have you waited for whatever you're waiting for?

I wrote the bulk of this week's newsletter while sitting uncomfortably in an airport waiting room. The nearly two hour journey there only leaving the lingering feeling of two more hours hiding before home.

A lot of hurrying and scurrying for some kind of abstract emotion.

The value and worth of those feelings only increasing the longer I wait.

Augmented Anticipation

All this empty time has left me thinking more about how much "waiting" contributes to the lauded final goal. Wishing and washing, moving back and forth in that eternal struggle between instant karma and peace in another life.

Of course, generally the stakes aren’t so high and the actions are far less dramatic. However, I still believe there is something to be discussed between delayed satisfaction and instant gratification.

Perhaps a powerful motivator in the short term, immediate access to all the answers does seem to devalue their contribution. In less of a tongue twister, the act of wanting something adds to the feeling of finally achieving or having said thing.

Or perhaps I'm trying to justify my own boredom.

Although there's an even clearer comparison.

Hard Work

I haven't progressed much with the draft of Rhean over the last week. Life stirs things up and muses fly away. While it's not exactly writer's block, I’m also not exactly feeling the most creative.

In a contradiction, I have written a complete outline of the story and am adding words to chapters, just not at the pace I would have assumed I would. Not at the ferocious speed I have come to expect from myself.

Instead, I've been doing much more waiting. Waiting for the ideas to tumble from the sky as I stand at the ready to collect the fallen pieces.

Some of this—I hope and believe—is normal, even if I didn’t fully expect to experience it.

Ex Nihilo

Adding to this weight, as I was struggling to channel all my energy into a growing number of pages, I realized that Rhean is the first time I've created a brand new story from scratch in a few years.

The last time would have been those first rough drafts of Besnowed.

And then I remembered struggling in similar ways. Finding all the loose threads and strange shapes and how they weave together into a cathartic narrative.

I suppose it’s all worth the wait, as long as it’s not in vain.

So, while I had a moment to do nothing more than reflect on the empty time filled with waiting, I've come to reevaluate that pause as something beneficial. A necessary part of the process that will help me write the best story I can.

Until next time.

Cheers,
JMB