It's Complicated...and It's Not.

Is there ever a better time to say yes?

A few years ago, I ran into an old friend. We both had young children and lots to catch up on, and decided to meet for coffee. As we compared our busy schedules, I lamented how busy life had become with these tiny humans. When did grabbing a cup of coffee get so complicated?

My friend responded with a simple truth: “It’s complicated and it’s not. We just need to pick a time and do it.”

Photo by Priscilla Du Preez 🇨🇦 on Unsplash

At the time, I felt consumed with caring for my three boys, idealizing a future when my days wouldn’t be ruled by drop-offs and pickups, nap times, or keeping a toddler entertained while trying to have an adult conversation.

Fast forward a few years: my oldest is in high school while my youngest holds up the rear in fourth grade. Our family calendar is ridiculous, and I’m (mostly) looking forward to a time soon when we have another driver in the house (mixed feelings, as you know!). I may be able to drink my coffee without a baby on my hip, but scheduling anything has only become more challenging.

It was just a cup of coffee, but it felt easy to push off until a better time presented itself.

A few years ago, I treated my writing the same way. When I signed up for a course with The Institute for Writers (IFW) in 2019, I bumped writing up my priority list.

At certain points during the eighteen months it took to complete the assignments, I questioned what I had taken on as I attempted to balance it with parenting and various short-term professional endeavors (some writing-related, others not). But really, I loved it; I was engaged, learning, and giving life to my ideas. The end result was a few published short stories and essays, achievements I know I never would have managed on my own in that amount of time—or maybe ever—without support. 

The process reminded me that, like many, I thrive with structure, accountability, attainable goals, and feedback. My educator mind recognizes this truth as the magic of scaffolding, a concept that emerged from Vygotsky’s Zone of Proximal Development (ZPD) theory, which posits that learners can do more with expert guidance and peer collaboration than they can achieve on their own. 

The biggest surprise was that, having successfully completed the IFW course, I realized that it wasn’t the end, but a stepping stone to a new path. To stop there would’ve been a conscious decision to turn away from something I think I knew all along: I was working towards something bigger. I wanted to write a novel.

Acknowledging this to myself felt brave. 

Telling others felt braver.

Trying to actually do it? Paralyzing.

We’ve all been told, or perhaps dispensed, the advice: “Just start!” 

But “just starting” felt, for a long time, like setting off on a darkened path. Alone. I might eventually arrive at my destination, but at what cost? What kind of journey might it be? There had to be a better way—maybe not a clear path, but one with some general directions. And a flashlight.

And then I remembered: It’s just not that complicated.

With proper training, people can go from walking a mile to running 26.2; it’s not easy, but it is possible. Writing is solitary work but, like running, it improves with training, practice, and community support. In this spirit, a few months ago, I returned to exactly what I know works for me: scaffolding.

This time, I’m tapping into the expertise offered by The Novelry. I’ve completed a foundational course and am now working through the Ninety Day Novel Course—but I know myself and my life, and I will definitely need more time. I’ve set a goal to finish my first draft by next summer. 

I’m excited, and also humbled. This is tough stuff. Most days, it’s just me and self-belief showing up at the crack of dawn and getting words on the page, over and over again. Teeny, tiny steps forward.

I’m still learning to tame the imposter syndrome beast. Does it ever go away? It doesn’t hold as much sway as it once did, but it makes some noise every now and again. I’ve felt this fear before, though, when I enrolled in my first writing class, and that turned out okay.

I have no doubt it will be a long, winding path, and I can think of a million reasons not to do this:

I’m too busy with the boys.

I’ll never finish.

This first draft is terrible.

Will anyone read this?

And my favorite: Why do I think I can do this? 

But none of them are as important as this truth: Someday will never arrive unless I decide it’s today.

It’s complicated… and it’s really not.

Thanks for being here.

P.S. My friend and I did manage to get that cup of coffee before our little ones went to kindergarten.

Substack Shoutouts:

Beth Morris started the Author's Note almost a month ago. I’m sure I will learn plenty from Beth’s pursuit of publication, but her posts are also warm and entertaining. It’s impossible not to smile at her latest post about landing an agent for her debut novel.