You can read this essay in Streetlight Magazine where it first appeared or down below.

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My writing mantra used to be, Fine is good enough. I made sure whatever I sent out was the best it could be. However, I worked fulltime and was the primary caretaker for three children. When I finished a manuscript, I checked for issues, then hit “send” before anyone came down with croup, required a ride to music lessons, or needed four zillion forms signed. I never lingered at the finish line, which meant some manuscripts went out not quite fully polished.

You’ve heard of the tyranny of the urgent? Those years, I happened to be the tyrant’s loyal subject. The process worked, sort of. It may have taken up to thirty submissions, but most of my stories and essays found a home.

When my children were young, a scarcity mentality fueled my anxiety. I felt driven to send out my work as quickly as possible. Given my tenuous circumstances, this strategy seemed both practical and reasonable.

Now, that the kids are grown, I’ve learned to let my writing simmer. My mantra has changed to, “Don’t arrive before you get there.”  

It helps that I’ve created a Repository of Random Ideas notebook. In it, I record character sketches, story concepts, essay topics, weird phrases, silly words that tickle my ears.  When I first jot down an idea, I’m convinced that it’s hysterically funny and/or amazingly brilliant. I wind up using about 10 percent of these “amazingly brilliant ideas.” However, just knowing this resource exists tamps down my drive to send out a project before it’s fully ready.

            Here’s an example of how the repository works. One hot afternoon, as I walked up a steep hill in my neighborhood, I experienced significant chest pain. A normal person would have called for help. But my mind went to how dying by the side of the road might an interesting way to start a story.

 Back home, I swallowed antacids, took out the notebook, then dashed off thoughts about a young woman who experiences chest pain followed by a heart attack. She’s a quirky accountant who’s led a solitary and quiet life. That’s as far as I got.

A year later, an extremely cautious 65-year-old friend of mine went sky diving. My friend’s surprising decision inspired the second half to my quirky accountant story. After my character’s heart attack, the young woman throws caution to the wind, goes skydiving, then experiences an epiphany. Called Gravity, the story appeared in Across the Margin.

            When I take the time to record the world around me— parent-child interactions in an airport, glimpsing a shooting star, an elderly woman struggling to put on an earring—any of these observations could be material for a story or essay. The trick is to relax and trust that the whole piece will ultimately materialize.

            Currently, I am waiting for the rest of a short story to arrive. So far, I only have the title, Slow Walking Out of Babylon and the first line, “He comes at me all Jesus and pancake breakfasts and pine tree air fresheners….”

Beyond that, I find myself peering at the edge of a black abyss. As fog swirls around me, I glimpse a flicker of light in the distance. My space is not yet illuminated, but I know it will be, and I will wait.

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Note: Slow Walking Out of Babylon was just accepted by Literally Stories and will be published in June 2025.