Everything is Chaos
Until it's not.
I have - once again - been procrastinating.
Every other Sunday, I publish an essay. Every other Saturday, I swear I’ll start giving myself more time to write.
And here we are. Saturday afternoon. No topic. No plan.
Just chaotic ✨vibes✨
It’s not for a lack of ideas. I jot down snippets and article links every day, hoping one of them turns into the perfect, most amazing, undeniably fantastic essay.
I wrote a few lines on Joe Jonas’ divorce PR, Barbie’s career of the year (which also happens to be my job), and the ethics of child influencers… all great, interesting ideas.
But I’m struggling to find the point.
Last week, I had the opportunity to interview one of my favourite writers, Fredrik Backman.
We talked about Beartown, hockey culture, developing sympathetic characters, and his approach to writing.
For each book, he tries to capture a feeling. It’s the same method of artistry as cooking or making music: in the end, you want to leave people with something finite. There’s a specific emotion, idea, or line he wants them to internalize.
The book is merely a vessel for the larger concept.
For Backman, there is no detailed plot map to guide him through the story. He doesn’t know where, how, or when the characters will weave together. He creates as he goes, knowing the end result he wants to achieve.
It’s chaos until it’s finished, he says. And then it all works.
As a writer and perfectionist, that’s some of the more frustrating advice to hear. Nothing is more anxiety-inducing than starting something without a plan.
That’s why my book draft is sitting in a drawer, mostly untouched.
…And why this essay is (at present) a jumble of thoughts.
…And why our house is still filled with moving boxes and piles of crap.
It’s chaos with no end in sight. All I want to feel is “done.”
If you’ve been reading for a while, you know that we’ve been renovating our home.
Over the last eight months, we’ve been living like termites: covered in sawdust and staying unseen while workers demolished and rebuilt the space.
In March, there were holes in our roof.
In April, we could walk through the walls of our kitchen.
In June, our basement became a sand pit.
Next week, it will all be finished.
I almost can’t believe there will be quiet after almost a year of jackhammers, electrical tests, and neighbourhood disputes.
Sometimes I stand in the middle of a room and remember how much has changed.
Just as quickly, I see how much still needs to be done. Furniture to buy, boxes to unpack, baseboards to fix, rooms to paint…When construction ceases, a whole new set of challenges starts.
For the next few years, this home will be a bunker where we cower from debt.
Writing - like home projects - is never truly finished. You can edit forever. There is always a better word, a more becoming paint choice, a deeper thought, a new furniture item…
It’s just as easy to get lost in the details as it is to fixate on the plan. The goal is to carve your idea down enough that the image is clear, but not so far that the whole stone breaks.
Grounding yourself in an emotion is one way to do it.
I, unfortunately, have never been great with feelings. My therapist gifted me this handy wheel because I’m so prone to intellectualizing. It’s like flashcards for the emotionally stunted.
When I think about our house, this blog, or my book, my feelings oscillate from immense pride to intense inadequacy.
How dare I waste a moment being proud when there are still things to do?
My inner saboteur loves to scream that I’m falling behind on everything. So much so that I’ve clogged my calendar with added writing deadlines, side projects, and volunteer work.
Unsurprisingly, the most worn feeling on my wheel is “overwhelmed.”
I am forever and always caught in a whelm of my own making.
If I’m honest, I never think about how the reader is going to feel after a blog post. I’m shocked any of you even open these emails.
My thoughts are constantly flying around like confetti, and writing gives me time to inspect each piece.
If it makes sense when I’m done, that’s a bonus.
In retrospect, it’s not surprising that I put off these articles. Who wants to examine a million tiny shreds of ideas? Shifting through nonsense is hardly anyone’s ideal weekend plan.
As much as I hate to admit it, Fredrik Backman is right.
I didn’t finish this post because of any great plan or outline. It was gruelling discipline that brought me to the final line.
Writing this was chaos until the very end - as in 5 minutes ago.
And it all (sort of) worked.
…Next time I swear I’ll give myself more time.