It’s April and I’m taking part in Camp NaNo, or as I like to call it NaNoWriMo Lite. This choose-your-own-adventure version of National Novel Writing Month is a chance to work on whatever writing projects your heart desires, set whatever goal feels right and make progress.
For me, I’m working on a new sci fi novel that I spent much of the last couple months delving into long hours of research and falling down too many rabbit holes to count. My goal is to get 50,000 more words in the manuscript which would bring me in and about the 75% mark of the story.
And then my body had other ideas.
This is not unusual. In the fifteen years since I was first diagnosed with fibromyalgia, I’ve gotten rather used to my body laughing while I made plans. The flares have come and gone, and illnesses (prevalent with a weaker immune system) persist much longer than they might for someone who is not chronically ill.
A good, solid week after I recovered from a respiratory virus (possibly Covid, but who can say for sure), I am now just recovering from a nasty stomach bug that had me in bed for two days. It was not fun, to say the least.
But I managed another 900-ish words in my novel today bringing the chapter I was working on to a close. That is a small amount of progress, but it was progress I would not have had if I had pushed through any earlier and attempted words then. I’ve needed the rest and recovery days.
I learned a long time ago to be a realistic optimist: I can make all the plans, goals, and dreams, but (especially the short term stuff) also to keep them rooted in reality. That’s not to say that I don’t dream big, I do. I also love to plan and organize ( I am the one that makes and uses colourful trackers to see how close I am to my goal). They are tangible proof I’m making progress.
Being chronically ill is about managing your energy levels and making sure you leave some reserve for the next day (I follow the Spoon Theory). It is too easy to go hard at a task and expend all your energy only to end up laid up the next day. I’ve done this many, many times. I still do, even though I know better.
But my writing has taken me on an interesting journey in the last few months. A lot of that is the work I’ve done on my own self, working through difficult things. It’s created space what I am calling Graceful Discipline- the idea that I want to be disciplined in my work so I can reach goals, but keep a lot of grace for myself if I am sometimes simply unable. I get sick, I have an injury, my mental health is struggling. Whatever it is, I need to create both room and time for these things to happen. Instead of being surprised when they happen, I now expect something to come up and have allocated space in my plans for them. They are no longer the life-upending events they once were.
That being said, I am fortunate to be on the other side of a two-year bout of chronic migraines that were debilitating. I stopped doing a lot of stuff because I was always in a state of migraine, of some pain or discomfort. Let me tell you, it’s rather hard to put creative sentences together when your skull feels like it’s caving in.
So Graceful Discipline is my mantra now and it’s been working out rather well. I have planned sick days in my schedule and if I don’t need them, great! Beyond that I actually schedule rest, especially during a month like April where I have so much going on and so much to get done. Rest is the only thing that allows me to keep going the next writing day, whenever that might be.
I don’t know if this latest illness will be my last this month, but it’s about progress, not perfection. It’s about finding my way: one day, one step, one word at a time. Gathered together those words pile up, forming stories, poems and even this post. That is progress.
And progress looks wonderful.