No, I’ve Got This!

Chocolate on my shirt and a melting candy bar in my hand. I’d made a mess, and I hate messes, plus I’d been caught wiping that chocolate onto my clean, white shirt. As a firstborn, my mother supposedly kept me ultra clean, whisking me away from the slightest mess to put me into another outfit from all the other adorable outfits she’d stockpiled as a new mom. She was also responsible for my aversion to sticky fingers which I’m sure I had at this moment. Nonetheless, I learned at an early age that I needed to clean up my own messes.

“No, I’ve got this. Just give me a minute,” I must have been saying. Either that or “No pictures, please.”

I’ve felt this way often in my career and with my writing. I don’t want to ask for help but would rather plow forward to clean things up, to make progress on my own. After a writing workshop, with my work torn to shreds on the floor, I am quick to say that I understand the reactions or concerns and I know how to fix something that could be off. After a rejection letter, I’m quick to pick myself up and move on to the next opportunity. After a heart-to-heart conversation with a mentor who loves my work but dislikes a scene, I will listen to every word and then graciously say “No, I’ve got this. Just give me a minute.”

One of the best, backhanded compliments I’ve ever received was from a professor who’d answered my question regarding the best aspect of my writing: “You know when you’ve written crap and made a mess.” She actually was serious and saw this as a strength for long-term success.

I’ve learned over time that writing is a messy process. I have thrown out entire chapters. I have stolen a paragraph or two from one place to insert into another. I have abandoned great ideas that were too untidy, quickly promising myself to return to it after some time. Plus, there is nothing messier than writing about people. Characters are people, and people are just messy creatures. Changing, evolving, surprising, growing, contradicting, lying, and even hiding in avoidance of the truth.

Writing is also a team sport. It takes coaches and fellow writers and an engaged audience to give feedback (good and not-so-good.) It takes readers and writers groups and coaching sessions that are filled with probing questions that lead to a greater understanding of a character or a plot point or a scene structure. But it also requires an ability to pick yourself up off the grass, wipe off your hands, and continue pressing on. (And to resist the temptation to drown your sorrows in a martini glass.) So going through this process we call (the writing) life while surrounded by others who understand the challenges is heartwarming and sometimes life-changing.

There is a power to cleaning up one’s own messes. An urgency, a control, a solution-centered perspective–all tools to make listening to the first half of the mantra easy: No, I got this. But it’s the second half that requires patience and focus and forgiveness. “Just give me a minute” is something I tell myself more often now. This picture reminds me that sometimes I just need a minute to absorb exactly what has happened and where I am and where the answer lives and with whom do I need to huddle and seek guidance—or maybe I just need time to find a washcloth.

When we are driven to do what we do, whether it’s parenting or teaching or running a department or writing or changing the world, we feel impatient about progress. We want immediate satisfaction—to know that what we’re doing is making an impact, to plod forward toward the desired outcome.  But sometimes we must be kind to ourselves and recognize that the mess is part of the process. Life is just messy. Knowing how to clean up while still enjoying the journey might be part of the secret.

However, in the spirit of enjoying the moment, I do hope my younger self, in the seconds after this photo was shot, sat right down on the grass, and took the time to finish off that candy bar before worrying about the dirty shirt!