Fault Lines

Finding solid ground when life shakes things up

Welcome, new readers!

Dream Big is about my writing journey. Approximately every two weeks, I post about: finding writing in my 40s, embracing a creative life, writing my first novel, and the everyday moments that inspire me as I juggle family life and my dreams of becoming a published author.

I’m so glad you’re here.

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Hi there. It’s been a while, I know. 

I didn’t mean for it to be, but summer felt busy and not always in a fun way. A bit of covid here, some botched travel plans there…I got pretty off track. I’d say it was a rough patch. Nothing earth-shattering, but enough to take my writing routine and shake it up like a snow globe.

I’m happy to report life has settled a bit, but the experience got me thinking, as I often do, about what I learned from it. Off the top of my head:

• I will write at home only when my kids are sleeping or out of the house; otherwise, I head to a coffee shop.

• A change in scenery is usually good for everyone.

• Summer is slower, but is also a kind of “busy season” for parents; I need to lower my writing expectations accordingly.

As I gain perspective, a memorable evening in early August, at the height of our covid/hurricane/postponed-then-canceled vacation drama, comes to mind. Dinner plates were cleared and nestled into the dishwasher, and I sat alone in the kitchen with my book and a mug of tea. I’d only read a few paragraphs when a siren shattered the quiet, blaring over and over from my phone, loud enough that I startled and lost my page. 

On the screen of my phone:

Adrenaline shot through me. Instead of running for cover, my mind jumped immediately to my kids. Two were out of the house, one was upstairs, and—the ground swayed beneath me, the earth rising and falling, rolling like the gentle waves in the ocean just a few miles down the road.

And then it was over. Nothing fell off the shelves. The windows didn’t rattle. My phone went quiet. We were absolutely fine.

We’ve lived in California for a decade; this wasn’t our first quake and I’ve learned they can feel different. Our first sounded like a big rig passing through the backyard as the earth groaned. Another quake felt like more of a jolt. Most of them have an undulating quality. None have been close to catastrophic.

But in those seconds when the earth rolls, life is pared back. What is truly important in our little human lives rises to the surface, and quickly. It’s not just our planet that yawns and stretches and rattles its bones; I think of it as Mother Nature gripping us by the shoulders and giving us a little shake. Hey you! Remember who’s in charge here.

Photo by Umberto on Unsplash

What every quake has in common, regardless of its epicenter or magnitude, is the reminder that we are in control of less than we think. Sure, we could choose to live somewhere else, but that solution strikes me as too simple for the complexity of where and how we shape our lives. Heat waves, polar vortexes, fire, flood, hurricanes, earthquakes…take your pick. Everywhere has something these days.

When the ground ripples beneath our feet, apart from taking recommended safety measures, often we can only hope for the best. Trusting, if you will, that everything will work out.

But really, isn’t that just life? Aren’t we all living on fault lines, preparing as best we can but never knowing when our lives might rumble and shift? As we are warned repeatedly out West: It’s not a matter of if, but when.

Ominous? A little.

My point is that we simply can’t always know what will throw us off course, disrupt the peace, turn our worlds upside down. If we’re lucky, a ripple or a jolt is just enough to remind us to find gratitude and make the most of solid ground.

The summer was challenging in ways I didn’t expect or prepare for. Though my goal was to finish my first draft at around 80,000 words, I am not that far off as I close in on 70,000. I tend to overwrite, though, so I predict I will write well past 80k. Editing is going to be a blast.

After the boys were off and running into the new school year, I traveled. By myself.

Look how happy!

It’s something I will write about another time, as my trip was spectacular and restorative on many levels. For now, I am home and finally getting my writing legs back, looking forward to a new season.

I hope the ground is still beneath you today and for many days to come. But let’s also remember that in the stillness that follows a rupture, after dusting ourselves off and assessing the damage, after we regain our footing…a path often remains under the rubble.

Thanks for being here.

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