{"id":503,"date":"2026-01-08T14:09:31","date_gmt":"2026-01-08T18:09:31","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/monicagraham.ca\/\/a-world-of-words\/?p=503"},"modified":"2026-01-08T14:09:31","modified_gmt":"2026-01-08T18:09:31","slug":"i-got-lost-in-the-details","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/monicagraham.ca\/\/a-world-of-words\/2026\/01\/08\/i-got-lost-in-the-details\/","title":{"rendered":"I got lost in the details"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
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This is one corner of my messy office, where I store\/hide\/treasure everything that is not suitable for anywhere else in the house. (in other words, my family doesn’t want to look at it).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I am lost in the details of the place where I try to write. (Note words “try to.” I’ll get to that in a minute) The place where I keep adding to this blog. Or compile tax papers. Or match what I think I spend to what the bank says I spent. Or make great long to-do lists that land in the to-don’t pile. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

So, why should I post on my website now, when I have written hardly a lick for a year, or more? It\u2019s likely no one is even paying attention.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But I pay for the thing \u2013 the space in cyber space, so to speak. I won\u2019t denigrate the Scots by claiming half my ancestry for making sure I used what I continue to pay for, but I was raised to be careful with money. After all, it\u2019s hard to get. Especially when one is a writer who isn\u2019t writing. This what happened: <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I was beavering away happily on an historical novel that spanned three generations across the length and breadth of Canada. I saved it on a thumb drive because I didn\u2019t want to lose the manuscript, and periodically saved it to the cloud and to my computer\u2019s interior workings. I printed out various bits and pieces so I could refer back and forth from the screen to the page, and to help with editing. I survived a \u201cno\u201d from a publisher and hard advice from an agent, and kept writing. With joy.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I took a Masters\u2019 revisions course courtesy of Jill MacLean and the Writers Federation of Nova Scotia. Enthused, empowered and energized, I gloried in the expanding number of pages as I followed my characters home to their denouement.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Then, one morning, I slammed my butt into my seat to pick up where I\u2019d taken off and\u2026 What the\u2026? My manuscript had fizzled into 300-plus pages of mangled words and half-paragraphs, interspersed with the occasional sensible sentence.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Ok, I had back-up.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But none of them made any sense either. The USB sticks \u2013 all of them – had devolved into gobbledy-gook that the region\u2019s best computer wizard could not restore. He had no answers and neither do I. I still don\u2019t know what happened.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

So I stomped. I cried. I screamed. None of it loudly or in public \u2013 not my kind of gig.  Suffice to say that the trees and critters heard a lot.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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I felt like knocking trees over – but this damage is the work of Hurricane Fiona<\/p>\n<\/div><\/div>\n\n\n\n

Ultimately, I went back to my printed pages, the electronic bits and pieces that remained, and the outline. I tried to start over, but my heart for it was gone.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u00a0I put it away for the summer. And the next summer. I quit Facebook. I quit some volunteer organizations, activities and responsibilities to give myself time to recoup. I got back into the craft of making somethings (earring holders, jewelery, signs, blah-blah) from nothings (rocks, broken glass, wood scraps, seashells, etc). It\u2019s not, by any means, lucrative \u2013 but I am doing SOMETHING.\u00a0 I cleaned up my long-neglected flower beds, and started to fill boxes with items I no longer want\/need\/use so I can have a yard sale. It will probably include those “somethings.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

This change might all be a sign of increasing age \u2013 which is much better than stopping the ageing process altogether. I am not ready for that!<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The universe persuaded me to start some new activities. I am learning to have fun, to actively enjoy my friends and life itself.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I learned to say \u201cF*** it\u201d if that\u2019s what needs to be said. I have let go of a lot. There is a light on the horizon.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

So, I now write a bit: undeveloped story ideas in a notebook that I keep beside the bed; poetry on scraps of paper that I burn; letters; reports for volunteer community groups that want something written… I journal \u2013 I am now on Big Thick Book Number Three. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I write sermons and other bits and pieces as one of three licensed lay ministers in my beloved little church. If that bothers anyone, so be it. I went a long time as a journalist not stating preferences for anything, in case I was seen as biased. Now, I don’t care. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I still think of myself as a writer, After all, I HAVE written and often been published – just not so much lately. I have plans to return to my novel – a little bit of discipline here and there. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

It has occurred to me, as I get older, that the word “deadline” has new meaning. It’s kind of a “now or never” feeling, but I am not holding my breath – that’s not healthy. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

And I feel just fine. So, to those who have asked what I am working on: I am working on me. Whatever that involves. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

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This is one corner of my messy office, where I store\/hide\/treasure everything that is not suitable for anywhere else in the house. (in other words, my family doesn’t want to look at it). I am lost in the details of the place where I try to write. (Note words “try to.” I’ll get to that… Continue reading I got lost in the details<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[7,90,19,41,89],"class_list":["post-503","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized","tag-author","tag-existential-crisis","tag-monica-graham","tag-time-management","tag-writers-block","entry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/monicagraham.ca\/\/a-world-of-words\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/503","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/monicagraham.ca\/\/a-world-of-words\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/monicagraham.ca\/\/a-world-of-words\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/monicagraham.ca\/\/a-world-of-words\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/monicagraham.ca\/\/a-world-of-words\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=503"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"http:\/\/monicagraham.ca\/\/a-world-of-words\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/503\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":509,"href":"http:\/\/monicagraham.ca\/\/a-world-of-words\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/503\/revisions\/509"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/monicagraham.ca\/\/a-world-of-words\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=503"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/monicagraham.ca\/\/a-world-of-words\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=503"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/monicagraham.ca\/\/a-world-of-words\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=503"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}