The Summer Behinds

Summer always brings the same angst to a writer: I’m behind. Every year, the same old saw grinds, back and forth, back and forth through my ego. I’m behind. Never enough hours in the day—even though it’s supposedly longer. I’m behind. Like, somebody’s been lying since the earth first began to rotate. I’m behind. The days aren’t longer. I’m behind. And even if they are (I’m behind), there isn’t enough energy to get it all done. I’m behind. One more excuse. I’m behind. One more apology. I’m behind. I’m behind. I’m behind.

Stop!

It’s taken me almost six decades to figure out that times of opportunity in my life are always overstuffed. That’s how I know I’m doing this life-ing thing right. If friends are outside, tending their flowers or going for a walk or roasting weenies, it’s because they can be. The weather let’s them be. It’s an opportunity to gather, connect, and laugh, not go back and finish the laundry. If my neighbors plum tree puts on a stellar crop and it’s an all-you-can-eat fruit buffet, I’m not going home for a ham sandwich. No one would even blink before yanking hundred-dollar bills out of the air in a money shower (it’s a heist gone bad with second story explosions and unmarked bills), but somehow, overextending myself during times of plenty erodes my very identity. One sawtooth at a time, one failure to hit my mark, one embarrassment, one more apology. I’m behind—behind, I am—I’m behind—behind, I am. Back and forth. Forth and back.

Stop!

Why don’t we celebrate getting behind in times of plenty? Doesn’t it show that I’m brilliant for sucking all the juice out of the pickle of life? Aren’t I wise for recognizing opportunity and grabbing it out of mid-air? Why aren’t the Summer Behinds a badge of honor instead of shame? Okay, Summer Behinds seems to mean something else when I say it out loud, but…maybe not. Maybe beachgoers in their wet, clinging swimsuits with sand on their butts is exactly my point. The sun, the warmth, the long hours, the friends, the sandcastles we build just to let them wash away, the jelly fish stinging our ankles, the clam bake, the wood fire crackling and popping long into the night… Why would we miss these? So, yes, the Summer Behinds sums up my point EXACTLY, proudly, guiltless, and slightly aggressively.

But, I have to cut this short. I’m behind.

Yes, book 11, A Ghost in the Tide, is still in editing but I’ve started book 12, the !!!FINALE!!! so, that’s exciting. Yes, the garden is in and beautiful and filled with summer promise. Yes, I’ve indulged in dozens of songs written and recording music in the new sound studio (built for audiobooks, so, SCANDAL!), and I’ve enjoyed the odd BBQ, jam session, long walks along the beach, and having my writing partner full-time. Life is good and that’s what this writer needs to write more. Photo, “Shhhhh, BeeBee Sleeping,” is of a particularly cool morning when I caught this bee sleeping in a squash blossom. Everything is fuzzy!