A deadline looms, and a voice tells me, once again, that I have nothing to say.
Mostly, I’m tired from helping repair my in-laws’ house, which involved hard physical work tearing down and rebuilding a 44-foot long deck over Labor Day weekend. I spent the weekend grunting and screwing—not the good kind.
Then, back to the office on Tuesday, where I was met with a slew of problems incurred by a new employee who quit suddenly. The week loomed before me with nary a break in sight. When would I have a chance to think about what to write, let alone write?
That’s when I engaged a writing super power: Listening . . . a.k.a. letting the story find you.
It’s a trick I learned some time ago when I discovered that inspiration doesn’t really come from me so much as to me.
In other words, to be inspired, I don’t necessarily need a good long stretch of structured time to think, or the perfect writing desk, or a ready-made topic. No, I just need to pay attention—to listen with a writer’s ear—to the stories that naturally bump into me in the course of living my busy, sometimes, stressful life.
Which brings me to Fire Woman and Gin & Tonic Man.
During my crazy last week, while I was trying not to stress over what to write, I would periodically get calls from my 78-year-old mother and 83-year-old father, who were on a “little RV trip.” Gulp. Were they up for that? I hoped everything would go smoothly for them, but with each of their calls, I came to appreciate they didn’t really care if everything went smoothly. In fact, each mini-disaster was an integral part of their adventure—they thought it was fun—and they handled these mini-disasters by accepting each as it came along, relaxing anyway, and engaging their ingenuity.
“The first day I was driving,” Mom (a new driver of the old RV) relayed to me, “we suddenly heard a terrific noise. So I pulled over and instructed your father to take a look around the RV for any problems. He came back saying everything looked fine.”
That’s my dad’s usual response these days—everything is fine. He doesn’t have quite the critical eye he used to. So, they started out again, only to discover the noise was much worse and the entire RV was shaking.
“It’s the tire, Rick. I think it’s the tire!” my mom called out.
She pulled over again. This time she got out to look around and found the left front tire had completely shredded. Whoops.
They called Triple A and found a tire store willing to replace all four tires—which they knew was needed, but had put off in order to get started on their trip.
Eventually, they made it to a campground and went to sleep.
The next day she called again. I asked how it was going. She said it was going well, that she had been Googling survival methods. She was calm. I was not.
“Oh? What’s happened now?” I asked.
“Well,” she said, “Dad went off to fill the windshield wiper container and check the oil. When he came back we checked the wipers, and they worked great, but I noticed he was carrying the transmission fluid . . . ”
She giggled a little.
“No worries. I just got on Google again, and apparently, people used to use transmission fluid instead of oil all the time.”
I interrupted my riveted listening, to ask, “Mom, are you sure you guys are okay?”
“Oh yes. We are having fun! Every day is a little adventure. Tonight, for instance, we decided to make a big bonfire. We went on a walk to all the deserted campsites and gathered up bits and pieces of firewood and dragged them back to our campsite. It’s our exercise,” she explained and went on, “Now, Dad’s making us a cocktail and we are going to relax by the fire I just built using a cotton ball dipped in Vaseline and a flint fire starter.”
“Did you say you started a fire with a cotton ball covered in Vaseline and a flint starter?” Apparently, she’d read about that in her survival guide.
“Yep,” she said cheerily. “Dad and I have given each other new nicknames. I am Fire Woman, and he is Gin & Tonic Man.”
I couldn’t help but chuckle. They were a beautiful example of not only embracing life as it comes, but making it fun and creative too, making the best of whatever bumped into them.
And, lucky for me—daughter of Fire Woman and Gin & Tonic Man—their happy story just bumped into me, reminding me that I don’t have to go out and find a story, the story is very likely to find me, if only I relax, pay attention and listen.
Photo Credit: Photo by Timothy Meinberg on Unsplash