Little Ms Fix-it

I was a project manager even before I was one in any recognized sense. I have always thrived when tackling a large challenge, breaking it down into manageable pieces, setting a sequence, looking for opportunities along the way - you must know people like me. We are the ones who plan vacations, help with weddings, are good in a crisis, whatever.  Our houses are a mess if that's any consolation.

Perhaps you are thinking that this skill must come in handy as a writer - not so much. I can't seem to manage my own things as well, except for my home improvement projects. My novel still has generous amounts of panic, despair, and obscene amounts of caffeine fueling it on its way to haphazard completion.

Anyway, the thoughts that keep me up at night are almost always crazy plans for how I could fix problems. Most of those problems are imagined, by the way - but they might happen and so, I ponder while watching the ceiling fan do laps. These internal conversations start in one of the following ways:

What if I... (called, introduced, emailed, bought, and so on)
Would it be weird if I.... (it only gets stranger)
I guess I could...(for the way-out-there stuff)

In case you are wondering what kind of stuff floats around inside my cranium, here is a doozy from last year. When someone dear to me was concerned about losing his house, I was thinking "not while I have an extra kidney and there is a black market" so you see, it's not always rational.

It's no coincidence that my better ideas often come to me just as I am trying to sleep. My mind really works when I am forced to decide if I should turn on the light (or not) and get the notebook from the nightstand. That notebook has all sorts of random thoughts, some poetry, some story ideas, and some stern admonitions to myself. Their readability often depends on whether I skipped the light. The message from last night:

I have to squelch my problem solving instincts. I can't fix this.

Ahh, the larger problems in life! I have had to continually remind myself that I have to let a few things go - even if they didn't work out like I wanted, even if I was sure that I was right, or if I had a workable plan (probably conceived late a night while watching the ceiling fan spin lazily), and even if I believe for the moment that if I could just (fill in the blank), that my life would be perfect, I would be happy, and maybe Diane Lane would play me in the movie of my life.

I have found that if I can divert my attention to other things (please, let that be my novel!!! Or cleaning my house - that would work too) that life has a way of evening out. Today's crisis is tomorrow's conversation point. Or plot point. Or both. But I can't armchair manage the planet, so I do the best I can.

Until it's time to let go.