Becoming a Grub Earning Writer While in the Walker Lane
Don’t you just hate it when you’re in the slow lane?
Don’t you wish you were back on your bike… and could pop a wheelie and go around the idiot that’s causing your nerves to jangle and your teeth to gnash. And suddenly you realize you’re the source of all your own anxiety. That it’s you that’s going so slow.
You then conclude that life is a breakfast bowl and you need to break fast and bowl your way through all the hassle by getting out of the walker lane as fast as you can.
And you think …
If only I could.
If only I could run.
Or at least walk fast. Then I could really go somewhere. Then it wouldn’t seem like such a waste of time. For falling in the fall wouldn’t be such a big risk.
But that’s the walker lane for you.
Here today, here tomorrow. Slow as snail mail. But hey! You’re still alive. You haven’t kicked the bucket yet.
In fact, you’re not kicking anything, or even trying cause it’s too hard to lift your leg.
Grubby Writing
And you can barely remember those times when you actually could kick up your heels. For you’ve been in the slow lane far too long. Especially when it comes to writing.
For you still don’t really understand why.
Why you’re still getting ignored.
You’d think by now you’d be getting some traction. That someone would be paying attention to you. That readers would recognize the value you have to offer. Even in the fall. The fall of your life.
For you’ve learned the difference between writing that is grubby … and writing that earns your grub.
For you’ve faced the truth.
The truth that you what you were once writing wasn’t worth a damn. Wasn’t even worth a penny a word. In fact, you finally accepted the reality that what you once wrote was very GRUBBY… glop reheated until burnt and black and yucky.
Because it was so boring andd tasteless that you finally admit to yourself it would put the tastebuds of most people to sleep. Even the world in fall wouldn’t fall asleep as fast. Or as hard.
Even if they were an insomniac like me with a sweet tooth.
Truth And Dare
For how can you honestly write something that is intriguing, daring, and blissfully appetizing when you’re stuck?
Especially when you’re tied to a walker? And you don’t go anywhere… anywhere that’s exciting. In fact, the only place you’ve been lately that was a little bit interesting was Dairy Queen.
It was a gathering with my independent living group that spiced up my life. Our medical team drove us to DQ. And I had to be almost lifted into the van. I managed to push myself up into my seat with my cane.
Talk about exciting.
Yet I was bubbly with excitement about going to DQ. And I wasn’t going to let a walker come between me and this get-together. Between me and an ice cream sundae.
Noon Hour Risk
Even though I was a bit leary.
For it was noon. And I was sure the traffic would be moving faster than I ever could. And I was right.
DQ’s parking lot was full.
So full I could see myself and my walker weaving between all the parked cars and traffic. Like some pole-bending rookie weaving her way towards the finish line. And knocking down pole after pole.
Only instead of poles getting knoecked down…
it was me getting knocked down.
And if I made it through all that trauma and got into DQ, I pictured myself in even bigger trouble. I’d be weaving between all the tables and chairs filled with people. Bumping into people, knocking them down, and running over them with my walker.
For the brakes on my walker aren’t too good. And I can barely walk. Much less stumble my way through a bunch of hunger-crazed DQ fans lined up at the counter.
DQ really needs a walker lane.
Wasted Worries and Jettisoned Jangled Nerves
But all my worry and jangled nerves were jettisoned somewhere else.
For our med team said I could sit in the car. They would order what I wanted for me and bring it out to me.
I shook off my my fears.
Shook off the dread and worry about no having walker insurance in case someone I knocked down and walked over needed medical care. And I rejoiced that God graced me with the wonderful help of our med group.
I joyously gobbled up a scrumptious burger and fries and Pepsi, as well as a luscious caramel sundae.
Without risking being sued.
Maybe worry is the price I’m paying for all the running… running away… that I’ve done most of my life. For maybe all that running should have taught me a lesson.
Like the lessons I’m just learning now.
Lesson Of Earning Your Grub
Like the lesson of enjoying the fact that I’m still alive and able to participate.
And especially engage in the feasts of the upcoming fall holidays. As well as chomping on some ideas to write about. Even though it all often seems like such an endlessly slow and painful walker experience. Especially this learning how to earn my GRUB by grabbing readers unexpectedly by the bootleg and pulling them around in a new direction.
Like I would have gladly hoped someone would have done for me in DQ if I’d had to go inside.
Because learning how to turn around in the slow lane is a difficult lesson. It requires time and patience. As writing and all learning does. And it also requires a good imagination.
It requires imagining yourself reveling in the moments of a luscious feast.
Imagining yourself building the momentum of moving toward what you want. Feeling good about moving steadily and persistently in the direction of your goals to enjoy a feast instead of the famine.
Requires even believing that no matter how slow you move, taking one step at a time, in the right direction, will get you to the grub you really hunger for.
Eventually.
But hey! The DQ experience, as well as the writing journey, is worth it. For it’s getting out and about and putting yourself out there in the world that matters the most. And my journey to earn my grub as a writer is just starting.
For my walker and I are just learning to navigate the world together.
And I am in the process of learning to write something actually grub-earning as I enjoy my life as a new 70-year-old this fall, even while in the seemingly so slow walker lane.
