Pivot

 Last week, I wrote about the Pennwriters Conference, an event I've been attending for probably 20 years. My reasons for attending vary from one year -- and one stage of writing -- to the next. Over time, I became more particular about which workshops I attended, honing in on sessions that fit with where I was in my writing career. Some years, the focus was meeting with agents. Other years, it was social media, writing craft, or networking (a.k.a. known as socializing). 

This year, my goals were motivation, inspiration, and instruction. Every writer has slumps, and this past year has been one of mine. I have a project ready to go, but it's stalled because I'm disillusioned and overwhelmed by the next steps I need to take. 

Because this year's conference fell during finals week, it was impossible to attend the full conference, so I scoured the scheduled offerings, highlighting the sessions that were the best fit for my current circumstances and planning accordingly. In the end, I laid out a schedule that enabled me to attend a day and a half of the conference.

The pre-conference offered a half-day session for writers who'd finished a book and were struggling with the kinds of promotional writing that constitute the next steps -- a perfect fit for my current situation. Although the presenter didn't give me the information I'd hoped for, her workshop yielded something valuable. 

It shed light on WHY I'm stuck.

I was profoundly aware that writing a novel and submitting a novel involve two different skills sets, one of which I find MUCH more enjoyable than the other. The presenter aptly described this as moving from pouring your heart and soul into something to turning it into a product to be sold. 

Yikes. No wonder this is hard. I needed to pivot, but I was standing still, completely unaware that I was supposed to be pivoting. I knew I needed to do something, but I had neither the energy nor the choreography to join the dance.

I have no illusions that this will be easy. Exhaustion and burnout don't arise overnight, and they can't be resolved that quickly either. Knowing this frees me from the pressure to seek a quick fix and enables me to embrace the wisdom of focusing on small steps instead -- a slow, meticulous pivot, if you will -- that will get me pointed in the right direction. From there, I can focus on the rest of the choreography.

How about you? Is there somewhere in your life that requires a pivot? What will it take to get you to join the dance?