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I Am Still Not In Charge

I now own a selfie stick and wear my hat like a Millennial.

Last month I wrote about the many things I learned when I took a year off writing.

I had learned about letting go. Remember? Let go, I said. No, more than that. More. That’s what my year off writing novels supposedly taught me. 

I’m not in charge, I said. Who knows what actions lead to which results? Just do the creative things that give you joy and share them and call it good. 

And then I went ahead and took charge. I said I’d start blogging twice a month, instead of once-ish. Which I was, and am still, very excited about and still plan on doing. But maybe I could have waited a beat between talking about letting go and then making all the plans?

Next, I went for a cross-country ski. I have always been a nervous cross-country skier. Even the slightest slope terrifies me. Those tiny little boards that are designed to glide? The sticks with no edges? It is touted as a benign sport but I am not so sure. How do you stop exactly?

A few years ago a friend taught me to stop, and a few weeks ago when I headed out I tried to do as I’d been taught. But it didn’t quite work out. I fell backwards and did the other thing you’re not supposed to do – I put my hand out to stop my fall.


At the ER they thought my wrist was broken so they put it in a cast. (Do you see where I am going with this?)

I am still not in charge. Lesson learned all over again.

I can have my spreadsheets and my 5-point book marketing strategy. I can do all that. But then I can also go out for a very quick ski and end up injured, off work and unable to type or do basic tasks for multiple weeks. Who knows how it will all go? NOT ME.

(In the end, my wrist was not broken. But due to the state of rural medicine in BC, life without a family doctor and the wait time to see a specialist at the big hospital two towns over, it took two weeks to find that out.)

I am now on the mend and will be fully recovered soon. I have heard so many cross-country ski accident stories. Broken limbs and tailbones. Torn and sprained ligaments. Really, you don’t want to know. Walking out of the house with your arm in a sling you’re like a beacon. People come running up to tell you the story of their own broken bones. (There are no end to these stories when you live in a ski town.)

I’m back now. Well rested, as a matter of fact. And I’ve learned my lesson. I will continue to do fun creative things, including writing letters to my readers and blogging. I’ll continue to create and share. But I might ditch the spreadsheet and add a bit more of an -ish factor back into my schedule. Leave some room for magic to happen.

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