Writers thrive in the sh*tshow

“Are we sure January is the best time to go?” I was questioning Michelle in one of our countless discussions about moving our son, Ben, to Nashville. 

Then added, “Traveling in winter can get ugly fast.”

“What!?” She exclaimed. “It hardly ever snows in Nashville! That is the LEAST of my worries.”

Twenty-four years of marriage activates a fail-proof vocal tone detection system that is always running in the brain. It’s a survival instinct that can only be obtained through constant use – and heavy testing. 

In essence, you always know, by tone alone, where a conversation is headed, and it’s up to you, the faithful partner, to pursue, redirect, or avoid what’s coming next.

In this instance, I chose to avoid.

No point in debating what could happen if a record winter storm were to hit Nashville during the very week we planned to be there getting Ben moved in.

She was correct that the odds were well against us getting stuck under six inches of snow in a town woefully unprepared to deal with it.

Pretty unlikely that the roads would turn into hockey rinks overnight…

And the airport runways reduced to frozen parking lots… with angry, gaseous passengers trapped inside metal tubes for hours while some guy named “Jimbo” struggled to untangle the de-icing hose.

What are the odds that we’d need to extend our stay and HOPE to fly out once things melted back to normal.

I mean, even if all of this did happen, my only reward for suffering through the January weather debate with Michelle would have been an eventual, “TOLD YOU!” 

A worthless prize, better left unclaimed. 

So, here I sit, in the lobby of our hotel, watching ice resist the sun and Nashville slowly return to life, after two days of record snow and freezing temperatures.

Truthfully, I wouldn’t trade a minute of it.

First of all, look at this room I’m in. All by myself, sitting on a plush chair, staring out at this gorgeous snow, concertos playing lightly through the television on the wall… writing to you. 

My son at his new place, a mile away, soaking in the fresh white canvas of his new beginning. 

My daughter upstairs doing schoolwork while my wife paints her daily watercolor.

Over the last two days, instead of saying “goodbye” to Ben, we’ve had epic snowball fights, built shoddy-looking snowmen, and watched playoff football together while eating delicious BBQ brought to our door by brave front-line delivery people.  

I don’t think I’ve ever felt so good about a “worst case scenario” coming true. In fact, now that we’re in it, I can’t imagine if it hadn’t happened this way.

Having everything go as planned would have been so… predictable.

Writers thrive in the midst of shitshows, snowstorms, and “what are the odds of that?” scenarios. 

Anything but predictable.  

So, if you find yourself nervous, or hesitant, about a “big thing” you’ve got in front of you, try looking beyond your concerns. 

The fact that you’re nervous means you’re doing something. 

Pushing yourself.

Not hiding from the fear of “failure.”

Required wiring for any creative entrepreneur. 

There are no good stories with predictable outcomes.

And, when you sit down to write one of them, remember that Papa Kev told you!