Before the Clinic Opens

A quiet kind of forward motion

Hello and welcome to Drafts, Deals & Detours. This is your weekly dispatch.

Dispatch #3: Detour
Focus: Grant application for Object Lessons manuscript
What I’m Feeling: Cold (it’s 28 F). And in need of more downtime.

I started writing this a few hours before I boarded a very long flight from Hawai‘i to the East Coast, where 10,000+ writers are about to descend on a single convention center, all abuzz about books and writing.

But then my husband and I decided to say goodbye to my sons on the way to the airport, one who was only in for the day, so we had to leave earlier to meet them. I closed my laptop, got in the car, saw my boys, then boarded a plane and landed in Baltimore ten hours later.

Despite having lived abroad and flown quite a bit “back in the day,” I am not a great traveler anymore. I intentionally built in a couple days to adjust and get some quiet time with my current manuscript (if you missed what’s going on with that, read about where I was two weeks ago, where I was last week and what changed this week).

But the buffer has been claimed. A minor health issue—my body’s way of saying we are not doing this the way you planned—has kept me more horizontal than vertical since landing. I’m waiting for the Kaiser clinic to open in a few hours. I’m awake enough to work, though not enough to truly focus on my manuscript, so I thought I might go through the conference schedule.

Instead, I started applying for a grant.

The math on grant applications is generally unkind—significant time in, uncertain odds out—so I’ve learned to wait for a feeling before I try. I found it through Chill Subs’ excellent newsletter, got a tingle (ha ha), and thought, why not?

If you’re thinking this sounds like procrastination or distraction with only a touch of a UTI, you’d be right. I should also add that somewhere over the Pacific, I listened to an audiobook that tipped me straight into imposter mode. By the time I landed, I was primed for things to go sideways, even though I know better.

Fortunately, this is not my first rodeo (AWP, prepping for a panel, self-sabotage, being under the weather on the road, dragging paper around that I don’t touch). I like to think that age is helping me know when to breathe and take a break (while fending off my anxious, self-punishing self, which says that I’ve taken enough breaks and need to get back to the page). Either way, here I am, in a hotel room in a town with an 80% chance of snow today (and no, I did not bring enough warm clothes and no, I have zero bandwidth to shop and yes, I still have to go outside to walk or get an Uber to Kaiser).

But I’m also feeling okay. I’m well-rested. I slept for nine hours. I’m hydrating like crazy. It is (mostly) quiet. My mind is (mostly) clear. Last night I found a new show on Amazon Prime, Hirayasumi, about “Hiroto Ikuta, 29, has no stable job, no partner, no plan for the future—and he couldn't be happier,” which I highly recommend if you’re in need of something slow, human, and quietly reassuring.

I feel better about my manuscript overall, imposter-syndrome derailment aside. I’m genuinely curious about what this book can become, and I know this week—for better or worse—is helping me discover it.

What I’m Going to Do Next: Show up slowly, with antibiotics and a water bottle. Clinic, then rest. Then (maybe) some writing.

I wish this was a more exciting photo. Alas, it is not.