Things Undone

Our intentions are always good. We set goals and don't meet them. We establish personal writing rules and don't obey them. I hate to confess my double drawer file is still so stuffed I can hardly open it even after I promised to clean it out five years ago and every year since. Yes, best laid plans are torn asunder and, once again I've vowed to clean out that file.

I had a writing instructor years ago who told the class that if things are left undone, it's a good sign. If dust bunnies play beneath your bed, rejoice. If dishes are stacked in the sink, it must mean you have something more important to do.

When we're a hundred years old sitting on that long porch in our rockers, we won't remember how many days the bookshelves were dusted or the day the oven got cleaned. What we will recall is how some words came together just perfectly. What will stir our blood is remembering how a friend or an editor or a reader said, "You really nailed that character. I can't get her out of my head." You'll think back about the time you got an email from someone who actually went out and bought your book and read it. It might be as simple as "Read your charming book!" or it might be something as dramatic as "Your book changed my life!"

So let's resolve right now to not beat ourselves up so much about things left undone. Let's promise to keep on writing and love the process as much as the product.

As writers, we are doing good work. We are mining and shoveling and digging out story, and that's more important than cleaning out a file drawer, don't you think?