Originally titled “Ready for the Next Big Thing,” but I don’t know what that big thing will be.
After five headlong years of producing three books in the Carrie Lisbon series, I no longer have the pressure of meeting contractual deadlines or my own self-imposed writing and researching schedule.
At this point, I’ve come to the end of a narrow, rigidly walled, writing channel. I’m looking out onto a multi-pronged fork in the road that leads off into a distant sunset. Every path is a journey into another writing realm. In one direction is a non-fiction project about going barefoot; another path leads to a foray into travel writing. Carrie’s to-be-continued story path splits and splits again. Another direction lures me into nature writing, and it’s lined with birds and hikes and the great outdoors and all kinds of tangible subject matter.
As I watch, another non-fiction path materializes, beckoning me to write about a prominent woman undertaker of the 20th century. The characters of an old fantasy novel wave to me from a starry, nebulous pathway, inviting us to get reacquainted. I glance up from the computer—my trusty travel companion—and spot a long-neglected journal I need to spiff up and print out. All my choices are supported by the freedom and time of my recent retirement.
Like any travel adventure, picking a path means employing a little bit of foresight, mapping a route, packing tools and provisions, identifying hiking partners for the trip. And fortitude. Lots of fortitude.
Who said, “The journey of a thousand miles begins with one step”? Nice sentiment, fella, but it implies a route has been decided and the distance has been determined. That's not what I've got here.
The other thing about that channel? It ends in a wee cliff. Those roads aren’t dirt or forest paths; they’re all braided streams! I just have to cannonball into one of them and I can experience them all!
I’ve got my maps, notes, training, experience. I’ve got my writing buddies to accompany me. I’ve developed a reliable, self-disciplined schedule that I can sustain. I’ve got coffee and binoculars and two good legs. If I dilly-dally around this intersection any longer, all those paths will dry up.
Thanks for the nudge, Lao Tzu. Cowabunga!
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