SPOOKED

 

Some things, which the rationalists call “coincidences,” will spook those of us who think lives are a mixture of the coincidental and the coherent deliberate invisible pattern woven by the supra-human.

 

I am positively spooked right now, and it isn’t Halloween.

 

When working to polish and revise my longer stories, I go through two full drafts of the middle-grade novels before I share them with anyone. In the past, I had three or sometimes four beta readers lined up, and I turn my completed second draft to the first, revise per feedback, and on to the second, etc.

 

For my current work-in-progress (=WIP) I had three Betas ready to look it over.

 

The first Beta is managing serious health challenges. When she returned the WIP to me, I noticed that many of the chapters had not a single comment or typo correction, which (if you knew me) is not possible.  I mentioned this to her, and she said it was likely a matter of her comments not having been transmitted to my system. Shortly after attempting to go over them again, she had to abruptly sign off saying she was too ill to continue.

 

I felt very bad at causing her to struggle thus and told her my next Beta reader will deal with whatever it was I still could not see.

 

Two days after mailing my third draft to Beta number two, two decades younger than myself, I was informed she had passed away. I felt terrible about that, never mind my manuscript.

 

Beta number three was set to receive my next draft two months from then, but I asked if I may send it early. “Sure,” she wrote back. “Send it as soon as you are ready.” This I did after again looking it over and catching a few more issues myself.

 

Beta number three, a superb professional with a work ethic to rival no one and energy befitting her young age, usually took two weeks to return drafts back to me with her feedback. A few days ago, I received a note that she has been seriously ill, sicker than she had ever been in her life, and was not able to work on my WIP.  She vowed to return to it when she was better.

 

But, by now, I am wondering if this manuscript is carrying some sort of curse. I certainly would not dream of inflicting it on anyone else. This thing, my latest novel, appears to be a killer and not in the good way some use the word.

🫣 SPOOKY😨

WHERE’S YOUR FOCUS TODAY?

 

Ever notice that when you have focused on a particular task you begin to notice all things related to the task elsewhere?

 

Years ago, in the throes of choosing fabric for curtains which I proceeded to sew, I wasn’t able to walk past any window without intently examining the curtains gracing it. I began to worry I was going mad, for there are MUCH more interesting things to observe on an urban walk.

 

An old friend with whom I used to take regular walks, became decidedly less interesting when, in the process of choosing a new color for the exterior of her home, could comment on nothing else but the colors of all the homes we passed.

 

A few months ago, a gold chain I had worn for years suddenly broke. While looking for a sturdier replacement, I was unable to look at other people (whether on screen or real life) without noting if they were wearing a chain (or chains) and what these ornamental ropes were. I used to look at faces, for goodness’ sake. What was happening?!?

 

The examples above^ from my life also echo times I am focused on first drafting, where I notice the writing of others in a different way, or dealing with a new medical diagnosis (whether pertaining to me or mine) and focusing on information and anecdotes related to it. But the latter two seem worthy of temporary focus.

Are curtains or house colors or gold chains also desirable? Hardly.

 

Musing on the nature of focus. I’m focusing on it now.

MAKE ROOM for the NEW

 An undeniable fact of life is that everything passes.

 When friends leave, whether to another location or to another world, I understand that this is the way life clears some to make room for others. Been there. Bet you have, also.

 

When your books go out of print and are only available used, the publisher is making room for a whole new flock. Been there. Maybe you have, also.

 

When the used booksellers also empty the rest and your book (or a book you have been hoping to get) is no longer available anywhere, others will fill the sellers’ stores. Been there, and you might have, too.

 

Speaking of stores, the most beloved neighborhood stores have a habit of closing or moving to unknown destinations. You can’t count on any business to be there your whole life long. Been there, and I have no doubt you have as well.

 

Blisters, even countries that seemed so solid can evaporate or splinter into smaller distinct entities. If you’ve lived through the fall of the Soviet Block, or read about it, you know what I’m talking about.  

 

The earth itself has a pattern of erupting new mountains and swallowing whole cities. I haven’t been there, and I hope you won’t, but we know it’s true.

 

My daily morning meditation includes wishes that what I know and love will remain. But it occurs to me that maybe, just maybe, I should also allow a wish to let go more easily.

 

Nothing of this world is forever. Let’s cherish the day and hope that what is gone is making room for wondrous things to come.

©Yoga cat by Shelagh Duffett

(Ms. Duffett sadly passed away in 2020)