Slow to the Punch

This morning — at my “real” job — a client asked me if my name is “Sara with an H.” “Yes,” I replied, “but I will also answer to Sarah without an H.” An unfortunate bystander overheard, and remarked afterwards, “Now, how many times have you used that line in your life?” Truth be told, today was a first. I’m a bit embarrassed to say it has taken me almost forty years to come up with it. To be fair, though, I usually thank folks for caring about my H, as my sister-in-law lost hers at birth. No, today is the very first time in my life that I truly felt witty. I’m usually slow to the punch.

Wicket Lake has been in progress (in some form or another) for so many years now that I’ve honestly lost track. There have been some good-sized dilemmas with Wicket. A few of these, I’ve pushed through, trusting that they’ll work themselves out in the end. Some, however, have kept me awake at nights, wondering how on earth I’ll reconcile the problems.

I’ve pressed on, knowing that editing could become something of a horror, because as dorky as my little fantasy novel is — I love it, and I can’t wait to read it start to finish!

Last weekend, my amazing husband did the thing that amazing spouses do — he listened to me rant on and on and on about the knots and naughts and plot holes of Wicket Lake. We didn’t solve every mystery, but we made excellent and logical progress on some things I hadn’t been able to quite put my finger on previously.

Sometimes… it’s okay to be slow to the punch. Sometimes… you don’t have to know all the details of where you’re headed. Sometimes… you just have to get on the train and know that when you arrive, you’ll be able to look back at the map and recognize all the terrain you’ve covered.

Please, friends… don’t ever let a fear of not knowing all the details keep you from pursuing the thing (the story, the craft, the hobby, the career, etc) you love.

From the shores of Wicket Lake,



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