In life timing is everything. Even so, how often do we find ourselves mumbling over the ‘slowness’ of a process?

A number of years ago I wrote an article for Footprints Australia magazine, which touched on this topic. The story focussed on my then three year old daughter attempting to make ‘real tea’ for her daddy. Unfortunately (and unbeknownst to us!) she was attempting something for which she simply wasn’t ready.

Timing is not only moving at a sufficient pace, it’s also not arriving prematurely at a given point.

Think music: in an orchestra each note must be played at the right time by the right instrument or the music ends up sounding like an untidy, jarring mash. Just as a child risks injury when doing a task for which they are not yet equipped, so do we risk attaining a goal prematurely by pushing and pulling, striving to make things happen on our terms. Yes, we can encounter some success, but if we’re not ready for the next stage of our journey through inexperience or sheer impatience, we can miss opportunities that are still developing – even in us.

This is a lesson I’ve had to relearn many times over in my life.

As a writer, patience can be difficult. Over the years I’ve thought various written works were ready for publication, only to send them off and receive a ‘thanks but no thanks’ (if any reply at all). And as I developed my craft I’m very glad these submissions were not accepted!

For much of life, this pressing on doors, testing opportunities and putting ourselves out there is all part of the learning process. But in hindsight, I can see that apparent ‘failures’ were necessary to buy me time, enabling me to grow in myself and my writing ability – and that’s a constant process. So often a closed door isn’t an end, but a ‘not yet’ or a ‘wait’. Every experience in life is training for the future. Our time in preparation shouldn’t be wasted champing at the bit, but living out the learning curve we’re on, readying ourselves for when that door we press on does fall open.

I have discovered a remarkable formula for productivity:

nothing + anything = something

Profound? Well, perhaps abominably obvious, but this was the conclusion I drew when undertaking post-graduate study some years ago. Life was busy – as it is for us all. Pressures and demands snatched what spare time I might have had, such that I found myself writing much of my assessable work between the hours of 10pm and 2am.

It probably wasn’t always the best work I could have done and it certainly wasn’t as easy as it had been many years before when I’d do an ‘all nighter’ of study as an undergrad. Life was different. I was no longer that carefree girl, but a wife, a mother, a full-time employee, a team mate, a home renovator and more. Time was precious.

At some point in that lengthy journey I had to decide whether to keep going or to give it away. Was it worth the cost? Many things had changed since enrolling in the program and when it came to productivity, I was largely beating against the wind. But then, nothing + anything …

During those odd hours of night, I realised that something is always better than nothing. Even if what I wrote wasn’t that great, I could always rewrite it, but I could never reclaim that time. If I was to complete the course, I had to squeeze from those opportunities what productivity I could. And, finally, I made it to the end.

No, I’m not advocating mediocrity, but I think that sometimes when it seems we’re stuck in time or facing impossible odds, we need to set a little goal and do something, even if it seems insignificantly small. And if you start, you often gain momentum. With time being such a rare commodity, I often have to remind myself that every choice defines what is important in my world; and sometimes I make a poor call. Sometimes I forget the cost of my choices. Time can never be reclaimed (and as a parent that becomes increasingly apparent!). We need to choose where to spend our time wisely, even if it’s a matter of something being better than nothing.

Perhaps I’ve been struck with a touch of Olympic fever, but have you ever thought how easy it is to run downhill? Every stride is strong and long. The world rushes by and you feel like a super athlete – until the next hill …

Just as ‘what goes up, must come down’ so must every downhill path have an equal and opposite uphill track.

Sometimes life feels like those downhill runs: easy, fast, with the wind in your face and lots of friends willing to run with you. When we hit an upward incline, often the friends that were happy to scoot down can drift off – either digging in and running ahead of us, or lagging behind. It takes deliberate effort to make progress. Your heart has to work harder, you often have to run alone and you might even be tempted to just go home and eat chocolate. (Not that there’s anything wrong with eating chocolate! 🙂 )

The reality is that if you ever want to see the best views or breathe the purest air, you have to go uphill. If you want to get out of a valley, you have to brave the rocky slope of the mountainside (and where I live, there is good opportunity to find a track like that!). Often the only option to sitting in the valley forever is to put on some weather worn joggers and start that upward trudge towards your next destination.

Are you running a hill? Perhaps you have blisters on your toes and you feel like you’re running alone. Remember that for every hill there is a crest and then a downhill stint to enjoy. And the fascinating thing I’ve discovered about running uphill is that the more often you do it, the easier it gets. Then you can take on the mountain!

Recently I was reflecting on my earliest childhood memories, including toddler playtime in an old worker’s cottage on my parents’ farm. In this cottage was a wringer washing machine (if you’re not sure what I’m talking about, Google it! :)) and that washing machine could be anything: a spaceship, a giant tub for making bread and soup, many kinds of vehicles and … well … a washing machine! (And probably much more that I can’t remember!)

Children have a remarkable imagination. Even at that tender age we were playing out the outrageously impossible. Consider how many children imagined things before they were ever reality. Electricity. Flight. Space travel. Computers. The most incredible achievements often began as an obscure, outrageously impossible dream that someone refused to give up on.

That’s how I got started on my first novel. It was literally a dream that I just couldn’t discard. So I wrote it down! Yet, those first sketchy pages outlining an idea were a long way (nearly a decade and a half) from the reality of having a novel nearing publication. For years I seemed to achieve nothing. Some attempts to progress yielded a larger stumble back. Many opportunities involved risking pride, were seemingly small and ultimately reminded me that I had a lot of work to do on my craft. That said, if I hadn’t taken those opportunities as they arose, even if it only served to point out where I needed to improve, I’m certain I would have never seen my work in print.

Never discount small beginnings.

The greatest beauty of my writing journey is being able to grow and learn with others. I have been encouraged over the years by amazing, talented and generous individuals with a vision bigger than my own – a dream that extends beyond self. They helped me fall in love with the shaping of prose and poetry over and again and placed value on my own tentative skills, cheering every small step forward. They valued and nurtured my dream.

If you’re a big dreamer, ensure you share your dream wisely. If you don’t have a dream, perhaps allow yourself opportunity to search for one. I know life can be crazily busy at times, but I truly believe everybody has a unique purpose and part of our life journey is discovering what that is. You might be surprised where the road leads as your dreams become reality.

I peered down the path. It was slightly overgrown, as if rarely frequented. It wasn’t exactly the start of my journey, but it was definitely a bend in the road. I couldn’t see much around that curve. Now was my chance to really do something with the writing obsession that I had.

Should I venture along or should I take the wider track, the one with which I was familiar?

Finally I stepped down the path and around the bend. A dream and a pinch of foolish ambition lingered behind me.

So began several years of learning and mentorship. I thought that the opportunity to study the craft of writing would hone my voice, sharpen my capacity. But as pride so predictably accompanies a fall, I soon realised that around that one bend were many more. The skills I thought I possessed were rapidly exposed as rudimentary and inadequate. This was going to take a lot of work!

Some years have passed since I made that detour. Though I discovered many things along the way, one of the most valuable lessons I learnt was the importance of journeying with others. This applies to any area of life – no less in writing. By walking the path with those who are heading in the same direction, you can build partnerships. For anyone who has done something new (which I hope is all of us!), establishing such connections involves an element of vulnerability. But I have discovered the value of an honest critique (even if it stings a little) and cannot state enough the importance of a trustworthy network of individuals who can encourage and be encouraged in turn. For it is not just about building your own adventure, but championing the walk of others, too.

I continue along that road, but I do not walk alone. When I face a steep incline or get a few rocks in my shoe, arms link with mine to ease the load or find a better path. My steps are marked with the generosity of others, and I have the privilege of cheering their achievements. Just as wattle blossoms light up the bush in winter, we can each add richness and vivid hues to the lives of those around us – no matter where they are along the path.

So share the journey with someone. And I welcome you to come along for mine.