Tammy Letherer I don’t usually include photos in my weekly blogs, but this you just have to see to believe—at my house, we have been living in a sock crisis for months.
It started innocently enough. I did what any reasonable person would. I put the unmatched socks into a separate basket, temporarily, with full faith that their twins were in the next load of wash.
When that basket started to fill up, I reacted responsibly. I developed a two-prong strategy. I bought my sons packages of plain black or white socks. Egalitarian and interchangeable. And I enthusiastically embraced my daughter’s funny sock obsession, assuming that a variety of colorful, unique socks decorated with tacos or pizza slices or ‘BRB’ would be easy to match.
It was a sound theory, but the basket had a mind of its own. Soon it was sitting in the corner of my bedroom blocking my closet, tripping me in the night, mocking me every time I thought I could simply reach in and find a pair. Weeks became months and soon the whole family was suffering. Dumping the mountain of socks out and then stuffing them back in the basket became our secret, shameful ritual. This led to sibling rivalry, gender wars, school tardies, and sometimes, cold feet.
Still, I made excuses. I have much more important things to do than match socks, I told myself. Or, does anyone really care if our socks are matched?
Or, I’ll do it someday, just not today.
Then, one day, I knew it was time. I didn’t want to be this person anymore. Other people had tidy, grab ‘n go sock drawers. I could too.
So here I am, with an obscene number of socks spread on my dining room table and I’m doing it— digging through piles of dirty clothes, searching under beds, plundering overnight bags—whatever it takes to either find a match or throw the orphans out.
Now, before I get carried away with this silliness, the point I want to make is about your writing. The excuses you make about why you can’t find the time, or why your stories don’t actually matter, or how it’s fine to let your project limp along as a scrambled, disorganized mess, those have to stop.
I’m putting a sock in my own writing excuses and so should you.
Here’s how we’re going to do it:
We’re going to meet virtually on a Saturday morning (December 14) for a no-excuses writing event that will include getting real about your blocks, goal-setting, craft lessons, actual writing time, and accountability.
If you’re thinking that you can’t possibly spend time, energy, or money on yourself right before the holidays, I’ll ask you to think about your own cold feet when it comes to your writing.
I promise that making a commitment to yourself in December will be like unwrapping the most exquisitely thoughtful, precious gift. You’re worth it.
But if you don’t think so, you can always buy yourself another pair of socks.
(Find full details and register HERE for the December No-Excuses Writing Event.)
