In the land of I-don’t-know-when-I-am-going-to-find-the-time-to-finish-writing-this-book-before-the-deadline, one does not need a rain cloud to come along and throw yet another diversion into the mix. I mean it.
Maybe this kind of thing happens to all writers – those circumstances that do everything in their power to keep you away from your keyboard or notebook or whatever it is you use. I’m not talking about the self-induced distractions. You can control those. I’m referring to the unexpected ones that come up out of nowhere and hover. For days or weeks. Months, even.
Honestly, I am taking very deep breaths and weighing the consequences of whether or not to allow a particularly stormy rain cloud to blow its way my life. I could put a stop to it right here and now. I could stand my ground and, sort of like Shammah in the Bible (a sermon my Dad used to preach based on 2 Samuel 23:11-12), refuse to let the cloud overtake me. I could do that. Yes, I could. The fallout, however, would be unpleasant. Very unpleasant. Possibly for years to come.
Then again, I could open my doors to the rain cloud – let it come in and blow its way through my life. I could pretend to enjoy the fact that the cloud would suck up nearly every ounce of my spare time. I could accept that the cloud would demand things of me, and of my family, that none of us are capable of, prepared for, or qualified to do.
It’s a no-win situation.
But sometimes you just have to say no.