How good are you at being directionless?
Because I suck at it.
To say that I am a creature of habit would be to say that the Empire State Building is a big building. It’s a reductive description. Inaccurate at best. I thrive on routines. Nay — I don’t just thrive on them; I need routines in an IV. Without them, I feel like a comet hurled into the universe with no particular sense of direction, desperately looking for something to cling to, afraid that there’s a crash landing somewhere in my future, and I’ve no way to be prepared for it.
Or in more simple terms: I feel like that meme of Pablo Escobar in Narcos where he’s just sitting around, simply existing, not knowing what to do with himself.
For anyone keeping track: There was no newsletter in April. (For those REALLY keeping track: May’s newsletter is also a week late, but I digress. Look away now.) That’s because April was like a submarine journey. I was underwater for the entirety of it and did not come up for air for a single moment to check out life on the surface. I had things to do. I worked through weekends trying to meet an editing deadline, as well as trying to keep up with a writing contest judging side gig. To say that it was too much is also reductive. I had no time to create social media posts. I didn’t even really have time to post most of the social media posts I’d prepared ahead of time. I had no time for personal reading or personal projects.
To be fair, I took on the side gig before I knew I’d be taking on the editing gig. If I’d booked the editing gig first, I never would’ve double-booked myself, as I like my editing gigs to take priority. But alas.
Then, once I’d turned in the editing gig, I had one week to prepare my house because my good friend, Brittani, was coming to visit (we were meeting in real life for the first time!). If there’s one thing my mother properly conditioned me to do, it was to panic when hosting people and to ensure they can never have the slightest idea that your home has the ability to accumulate dirt or mess.
The week after that, Brittani flew in. Her visit came and went in a blur of book shopping, restaurant hopping, and endless conversation — bits of which my brain is still sometimes randomly throwing at me like, “Hey, remember when you said THIS STUPID THING? YEAH.” [insert melting emoji]
April and early May were a month and a half of insanity. And my dopamine addicted brain was LIVING. And then, Brittani left. (I confess that I gave Brittani zero breathing time, and she probably ran away from here more exhausted than when she first arrived). Work was at a standstill while I waited for my client to complete their revisions. My productivity-packed routine vanished into thin air. My brain’s dopamine production came to a crashing halt, the factory like a dark, empty lot through which only roaches passed — the machines at a standstill, rusting, in desperate need of oiling, the workers dismissed. One security guard at the gate falling asleep during his shift. Disruptive youths spray painting anarchistic symbols and colorful language on the outside walls. Crickets stridulating in the overgrown bushes outside. This is their home now. They’re here to stay.
I’ve spent the last three weeks, while I wait for my client to return their manuscript to me, trying to patch together a packed, over-productive routine that’ll keep my anxiety about not being productive enough at bay. Needless to say, I haven’t been successful.
My brain is convinced that I need a new project. But I can’t start a new long-term project because I have work coming back in soon. Another month in which I’ll go back into my editing submarine. So I’ve spent the last few weeks trying to convince my husband for us to start building a pergola, to build a little free library, to plant a lemon tree or a willow tree or both. I’ve also started composting. I’ve slowly been switching myself over to the Mediterranean diet. Deciding if I want to take up sewing because of one pair of yoga pants whose hem came undone. Do I want to open up my Etsy shop again? Should I finally start that podcast I’ve always wanted to start? Should I start an online writing group?
There are things I’ve been doing to fill up time, like editing my romance novel. This has been fun, but also overwhelming. The editor in me is loving every gap and plot hole I find. But the writer in me is screaming at the me that wrote most of it five and six months ago for leaving so much open and unplanned. I’m like the beaver that knows how to gather the wood but doesn’t know how to build a dam.
So I put that down quite often so as to avoid said overwhelm and burnout. Then I tried to crochet, because I also have a barrage of crochet projects I’ve planned to do. Things I’ve promised my friends I’d make for them but haven’t gotten around to because I ALWAYS FILL MY TIME UP WITH SOMETHING “MORE PRODUCTIVE.”
And that is where the issue lies.
My days are filled with “productive” tasks. I’m always editing, or preparing to edit, or working on my WIP. Or creating social media posts to help advertise my editing business. Or working on this newsletter. Or researching information about editing. Or planning my next long-term project.
I allow myself zero space for leisure. Zero time to just be. To just exist outside of making. And this is a problem.
I’ve come to this realization before. Time and time again. Time and time again, I’ve told myself that life is more than all the activities I can cram into it. Or that, at the very least, it’s okay if some of those activities are just for fun and don’t lead to a monetary end. Some things can be done just for the joy of it. Sometimes, standing around staring at the sky (or, like Pablo, standing in an empty pool staring at…the tiles?) can be a perfectly okay thing to fill up time with.
These last few weeks have been eye-opening. They’ve shown me that I still have a lot of work to do where living in the moment and learning to enjoy simplicity and slow living. That often, even though I try, I still end up falling right back into my old hamster-wheel-turning patterns.
Yesterday, I piled up all my possible tasks and sat them down on the table and told myself I would pick one. Then, when I sat back down, my body tapped in and said, “Hey, actually, do you think we could take a break? Do you mind if we just rot for the rest of the day with some reruns of GBBO and Schitt’s Creek?” And so I did. And though at first some restless part of me wanted to rebel against it, I encouraged it to try. To lean into the empty space of “not doing.” And it was perfect.
It’s okay to have periods of time in which we go down with the submarine (though I totally don’t recommend it, and I’ve made a mental note to never overbook myself like this again and to allow for more “me” time when propositioning editing timelines to clients). It’s a lovely feeling to be busy. To feel like I’m contributing SOMETHING to humanity, even if it’s just to one person.
But it’s also okay to experience time in its most tangible form. By literally giving up all tasks, all to-do’s. To stand around like Pablo Escobar in that Narcos meme and just contemplate. Just observe. To take life in as an outsider who’s simply here to witness. (Minus, you know, all the illicit stuff.)
Both are good and both need balance. These weeks have been educational for me, and the next time I have an opening from work, I’ll try to be more mindful about how I’m pressuring myself to spend my time. I’ll have to remind myself, for the umpteenth time and for as many more umpteenths as it takes, that it’s okay to slow down. It’s okay to pause. It’s okay to bring my submarine up to the surface and simply let myself feel the warm and the light of the sun on my face.
April and May on the blog!
In an attempt to not pack all my time with overproductivity, over the summer, since it’s the slowest time for the publishing industry of the year, I’ll only be posting once a month on my blog (and maybe moving forward — definitely not writing it out). But for the months of April and May, here’s what was been going on:
How to Write the Fake Dating Trope
It started out as a dare, but it’s becoming real! Check out these tips to help you make the most out of your fake-dating-trope romance novel!
How to Write Second Chance Romance
They were on a break! No, they weren’t! Second chance romance is another trope that’s very popular in the romance genre. Check out these tips to make sure you’re checking off all the boxes for your next second chance romance story!
How to Foreshadow Smoothly and Effectively in Your Story
You don’t need a crystal ball to help you foreshadow in your stories. What you do need are these handy tips to ensure that your shocking twists are all landing the mark!
What I’ve been into this month
Part of the madness of April started when I began judging a writing contest over on WritingBattle.com. Granted I’m one of many judges, but the first round of reading thirty 1,000-word stories in one week (for three weeks) and writing useful feedback definitely took its toll. Especially when paired with an edit I was already working on. I was up on until midnight sometimes, reading, trying to meet my quota, and then going to bed with my brain overstimulated and dreaming of the website interface and random lines from all the stories.
Reading the brain babies of so many writers out in the world has been fascinating. There’s been so many wonderful stories, so much beautiful prose, so many I had to stop myself from writing “I really think this one should win!” They run these contests seasonally for cash money prizes, so you should definitely check them out if that’s something you’re into!
As I mentioned before, my friend Brittani from the online bookstore, Untitled Thoughts, graced us with her presence in early May! We worked together on her book A Daisy in Lily’s Valley back in 2023, and we connected in a way that’s almost a little freaky! Parallel lives across state lines, as I like to call it. Were we twins in a past life? I’m not ruling it out. (Or as I like to summarize how we became friends: “Your parents sucked?? My parents sucked, too!”) We ate a lot and talked even more, got barely any writing done, spent way too much money on books, but still, an insane amount of fun was had.
Before that, I was reading Hester by Laurie Lico Albanese for Brittani’s and my book club over on Fable! A story inspired by Nathaniel Hawthorne’s life. The author takes great creative liberties speculating on the circumstances that could’ve led to Hawthorne writing The Scarlet Letter. A great story for those who believe in equality for all.
Then I read An American Beauty by Shana Abe based on the story of the U.S.’s first wealthiest woman, Arabella Huntington, a woman who goes to any means to climb out of ruin and to find a seat at the highest American social hierarchy. As you can see, I love a good story about women breaking the glass ceiling and other things. I live for these narratives.
With the release of Suzanne Collins’ Sunrise on the Reaping (which I haven’t read yet), I decided to start rereading The Hunger Games in preparation for when I finally find a cheap, second-hand copy on PangoBooks of Sunrise. I’ve only made it through the first (which we’re currently discussing over on our Fable book club!), but it’s been such a delightful experience to read these books again nearly fifteen years later. I’ve gained a fresh appreciation for Collins’ writing style now that I’m much older and know so much more about writing and what it takes to craft a story. This series, her storytelling, is unmatched. Sensory in all the best ways, deeply reflective, and, unfortunately, all too relevant to our modern world.
Before I move on to Catching Fire from that series, I’ve begun reading Blue Sisters by Coco Mellors. This was recommended to me by my sister, who read it for a book club she frequents. I have a soft inclination for books about sisters, so I was on the look out for this for a while. It’s deeply moving, and damn does it touch down on the nerve of sisterhood pointedly. The first page alone contains a quote that had me swallowing through a knot in my throat.
As I mentioned in my letter above, I’ve been trying to get into a million things this month, but fighting my need for dopamine even as my brain screamed to get it. I will likely still pursue a lot of those things, but all in due time. For now, I will settle back in, continue trudging through my WIP’s self-edits while I wait for my client’s manuscript. And I will do it all at a steady pace. With plenty of breathing time in between. And I will try to find other ways to slow down my monkey mind.
After all, summer’s almost here, and the time has come for me, a succulent with legs, to go soak up the sun.
Until next time,
Hi there, I’m Maria! I’m a freelance fiction editor assisting women writers in amplifying their voices through their writing. You can find me on Instagram @theintuitivedesk and on Pinterest. Or visit my site www.theintuitivedesk.com to find out more about editing services.
Thank you for sharing. I can totally relate to that restlessness. I even took up running. lol. It’s like you said, though. There are some lessons we come back to time and time again. And that’s okay.