I never expected to be writing a sequel of sorts to last year’s column.

With as problematic as writing a sprawling post-apocalyptic tale during a global pandemic sounds, it’s keeping a handle on the day-to-day that takes its toll.

I’d love to tell you that I’ve learned something or other in the last year tooling around writing The Great American Novel. 

What I’ve realized (much too late, as usual) is that these grandiose ideas are naught but chunks of marble to be chipped away at over time especially when I’m unable to see the masterpiece hiding inside.

I’ve just figured out that this is the first time I’ve sat down to write since June. Amid writing retreats, house buying, and child wrangling, perhaps what’s been gumming up the works this summer is that I’ve not taken the time to breathe. 

To sit and wait. Patiently, for that still, small voice.

As I sit here writing and revising this, it’s the little things that are getting my attention:

The spiders spinning webs, where they do and why.

The different grasses in our lawn.

The rotating airplane light gracing the trees at night. 

Bees making a hive in an actual tree.

The “writer’s block” that I think I’m suffering from? 

Those are just stepping stones with enough clearance to jump to each one as I cross that unfathomable chasm that is life.

That block I’ve been chipping away at? 

Those parts that I thought I didn’t need are discarded for a reason. 

I’m not sure what it is yet, but I’m looking forward to seeing the finished product. 

If you enjoyed this piece, please follow Jared A. Conti on Twitter @oracularbeard.