Adrift on a Slack Tide

First the Tide Rushes In…then…

Have you ever noticed how life seems to ebb and flow? It sure does for me. First life rushes to shore, then recedes, pulling all that’s left behind. Wild and tumultuous times are followed by quiet times when tide turns slack.

Those can be the hardest moments — those slack-water times when life seems stalled. Left without a compass, we become unsure which direction to take. This empty floundering about makes me feel most uncomfortable. What’s next, I wonder, with no answers apparent?

When I made my continental leap to coastal North Carolina from California, I left behind the corporate world of marketing and advertising. Here, in my new little village, I hoped to craft a simple life. I would create the time to create. I would be content.

And, after a time, it proved so.

Setting a New Course

I turned back to my first love, journalism. Interviewing interesting people, writing articles, working with dedicated newspaper and magazine editors, I felt in my element. The sweetness of seeing my name in print as an author; this recognition, proved gratifying to my thirsty ego after years of writing anonymous advertising and public relations campaigns.

This was a time of renewal for me. Oh, the pleasure of growing older when we’re free to explore our edges! Many creative women live in my new town; they became my new community. Our shared explorations enriched me and provided great, good joy. I rarely laughed when I toiled in advertising.

But then the tide turned again, as it does. The economic downturn came crashing ashore. My steady magazine clients, faced with reduced advertising revenues, tightened their freelance budgets and started writing more and more of their articles in-house.

Though I marketed madly, pounded on doors, lowered my rates, was hyper-vigilant in sleuthing for assignments on electronic job boards, my paid writing projects were reduced to a trickle. This was a lesson in how much of my identity was tied up in my profession. Little work turned into a lost sense of self-worth. Dark thoughts — who-am-I thoughts — came creeping in.

My social network aided my rescue. With their help, I came to view this slack water time as a gift. This was my time to take stock; to pursue matters of the heart. I pared my cost of living and launched anew.

I began the novel that had long been perking in the recesses of my mind. A favorite book, George Orwell’s ‘1984,’ had stayed strong in my mind over the years. I wondered what changes we’d see a hundred years past 1984, given climate change and other factors?

So I took the plunge

Plot and distinct characters began to dwell in my mind — they whispered their words into my ears. I entered a new future world and sometimes found it hard to leave it at the end of a writing day. Now the book’s complete. I published ‘Falling Through Time‘ on Amazon.

My writing group helped me steer a steady course by demanding and cheering on each new chapter. It’s been said that ‘it takes a village to raise a child.’ I’ve come to discover that it takes a village to crew and launch a book; to support one another’s creativity.

Short stories and essays next captured my muse. Writing a novel had been long-form — and it was sure time-consuming for this short-attentioned Gemini who likes to flit about from flower to flower like a hummingbird, never alighting for too long.

So no wonder essays and short stories next captured my muse. Nora Ephron’s ‘I Feel Bad About My Neck’ collection of essays had long been a favorite of mine. Such honesty about the adventure of growing older. And her humor sparked my funny bone.

Two shorties — one fiction and one non-fiction — found homes in two anthologies — one in an unlikely anthology collection of romance fiction centered on Harley-Davidson motorcycles entitled ‘Love on a Harley.’ My writing group found this to be hilarious, considering I’d never actually ridden a Harley. But my local Harley shop was gracious in answering questions as I peopled my romance with a school teacher who falls for a Harley-riding tree surgeon.

Now, I’m trying another foray into writing: this web log called ‘PattyTakes.’ Yet another port to aim for, a new destination into a foreign land…just when I thought my craft had sprung a leak and I was drifting aimlessly. My personal slack-water time — this time when the turning tide had cast me adrift — has shifted. I’ve gained a new direction.

These lulls are often painful, I’ve found. They can batter and bruise our self-worth. Who am I? Where am I headed? But, with time, comes again a freshening breeze to fill our sails. And off we go, puffed with new energy.

Maybe there awaits something tucked away awaiting discovery on the map of your mind? Could be your time has come to raise anchor. When you do, may the tide lift you and carry you to new lands of wonder. I send best wishes for a happy voyage to each brave new explorer.