Sarah Brentyn aka Lemon Shark has issued a flash fiction challenge in support of hurricane relief.
Tell a story in 50 words or less –
This storm is not our ending. We may be cut off for a time, but this time is only temporary. We will adapt and rise stronger. We will make this world our own. This is our new beginning. We are the Lemurs of Madagascar. Let others see and awwwww.
Source: Lemon Shark | Navigating the Uncharted Waters of Life
Deep in a dark and ancient pyramid, a forbidden chest was opened, and an evil the likes of which had never seen was loosed upon an unsuspecting world (well maybe not an ancient pyramid per se, more like a standard rectangular room, but the lighting back there is poor and the box isn’t allowed to be opened unless a parent is in the room. Okay, so the box’s contents probably aren’t evil, but you can’t say they are entirely good either, so I’m going with it).
It was a plot that would turn dreams into nightmares…It was the curse of the LEGO tape.
It all started innocently enough. It was Spring. Perhaps it was the pollen in the air. Perhaps it was the rising humidity. We may never know the reason. But on this day, the computer was on.
“Kiddo, look what I found.” This as become a rather ominous phrase in my house.
“What is it, dad?”
It’s something called LEGO tape.”
“Coooooooooooool. Can we get it?” Considering I’m pretty sure my son is on a singular quest to collect every single LEGO set ever manufactured, I can only imagine what was going through his head as he watched the video play. You mean I can cover my floors AND my walls in LEGOs? Sign me up!
“Well, you see it’s not yet in stores. They aren’t actually making any yet.”
If our son were a robot, I’m sure he would have said, does not compute. “But the video shows it. Right there.”
“That’s just a prototype. This is a crowdfunding site. They are asking money to make more and the people who give them money now will be the first to get the tape when it goes into production.” My husband launched a business several years ago and has a soft spot for others taking the plunge. Therefore, I can excuse the enthusiasm he projects when discussing entrepreneurialism with our children, but it can be contagious.
“Can we give them money?”
“Sure. Why not?” Why not? Is there another question in the English language that deserves more to go unasked?
May
“Have they shipped my LEGO tape?”
“Not yet. I don’t think it was supposed to be ready until this summer.”
June
“Have they shipped my LEGO tape?”
“Not yet. Be patient.”
July
“Have they shipped my LEGO tape?”
“Not yet. They probably ran into a production delay. That happens sometimes.”
August
“Have they shipped my LEGO tape?”
“Not yet.” At this point you might be realizing my summer devolved into an extended version of the whole, ‘Are we there yet?’ question, which is the second most deserving question to go unasked.
You’d be right.
Still August
“Okay, mom.”
“Oh, my gosh. Is that what I think that is?”
“It’s LEGO tape. But I thought I was supposed to get it before the stores.”
“Er, I thought so too. Maybe it’s another brand or something.” To be fair, there are now a number of variants in the marketplace. Who knew LEGO tape would have such fierce competition? Maybe had we known, we might not have been so quick to back the product, but those are the risks you take in crowdfunding. It’s also a good reminder to always do your due diligence on any investment.
Yep, still August
“I’m never going to get my LEGO tape.”
“I know you’re disappointed, but things like this happen sometimes. It’s in the stores now. We can get it for your birthday if we have to.”
September
“Hey Kiddo, you got an email from the company. They’ve apologized for the delay. Your LEGO tape is coming. There’s even a tracking number.”
“It’s going to get lost in the mail. I just know it.” Kiddo has a legitimate reason to worry. Our local post office is notorious for missed shipments and delayed deliveries. His disappointment would only be made worse after the build-up of the summer-long waiting game.
The next day
The day after that
I have to say I grew somewhat troubled by the fact that Kiddo had stopped asking whether the LEGO tape had shipped. Would his very first experience with crowdfunding go on to be his last? He’d been so eager to be a part of something bigger than himself, especially if it resulted in more LEGOs.
After seeing how high his hopes had flown, I hated to see them plummet like this, but this was one of those times that I couldn’t kiss a boo-boo and make it better. He’d taken a risk. It hadn’t worked out. Not everything he tries in life will be a success. He might as well learn to accept that now so he can focus on the positive side. As much as I wish it didn’t hurt so much at the moment, it is our failures that make us appreciate our later successes all the more.
We moved on. We started planning his birthday list.
I received a text from my husband one evening. “LEGO tape came in. He’s a little excited.”
The kids met me at the door and brought me to their rooms, eager to show off what they’d done already. You might have mistaken a day in late September as Christmas morning. If my husband entrepreneurial enthusiasm is infections, it has nothing on the joy that is knowing a child’s wish has come true.
To-do lists can be so cute when they are young. When they look at you with those big shiny eyes, begging for your attention, you can’t help taking them home. As you stroke its fur and listen to it emit those adorable sleepy sounds of contentment, you can’t help think of all the wonderful things the two of you will accomplish together.
Then one day when you aren’t paying it enough attention, it piddles on the floor or gnaws a hole in your favorite shoes. Your sleep gets interrupted by late night whimpers or whines demanding your immediate attention. It nips at your fingers with sharp baby teeth and scratches your legs with its razor-sharp claws.
But you let this behavior go. It’s a baby to-do list after all. Mishaps happen. It’s annoying, yes, but all part of the process. You tell yourself it’s no big deal.
The next thing you know, that baby is one hundred fifty pounds of pure muscle more capable of taking you on a walk than you are taking it. The floors are ruined as is the couch, the blinds, and the contents of your closet. You stop having anyone over, too embarrassed to let them see what your list has become. You dread leaving your home, worried about what mess it’ll make while you are gone. What if it gets out? Even worse, what if it finds another list out there and multiples?
It growls at your family. It snaps at your dreams and each day you do nothing your to-do list only grows larger, meaner, and more wild. It’s no longer annoying. It’s quality of life affecting.
You might be tempted to take the to-do list out to the woods and be done with it, but then you remember back to those eyes and the sweet little baby it once was, and you decide to give it one last chance, but deep down you know something has to change. That something is you.
It’s time to take control and tame that unruly beast.
Step 1: Put that list on a diet.
Focus instead on limiting your list to three to five lean but high-quality meaty goals and keep your list active with plenty of exercise. Once your list is back in a manageable weight class, you can reintroduce the snacks provided they remain in moderation.
If you are not sure how to do this (it’s harder than it sounds), you may want to check out The 4 Disciplines of Execution: Achieving Your Wildly Important Goals
Step 2: Establish and Enforce Boundaries
Step 3: Enlist the help of a trainer
Your to-do list just knocked over Grandma Maude’s vase with its tail. I get it. Adding more books to read to your list isn’t helping. You’ve maxed out on what you can do alone. If this is the case, I recommend finding an accountability partner. This can be a friend, spouse, colleague, or even a random person you’ve stalked built a relation with online (facebook groups related to your interests are a good place to start). The ‘who’ doesn’t matter. What they do, however, does. This person should be able to regularly help identify priorities and be trusted to hold the leash with a firm hand when your to-do list starts pulling away as it is apt to do.
Step 4: Reward your progress
Positive reinforcement works wonders. Just as a dog can learn to associate the sound of a clicker or over-the-top expressions like “whose a good girl/boy? You are!” as praise, your list will respond to seeing tasks getting checked off. Treat each check mark like a big deal it is. If you prioritized your tasks properly, they will be. Don’t keep your accomplishments in your head. Write them down and display them for all your family to see.
Some people might be comfortable working from a scratch pad or a pile of post-it notes, but I prefer using an app like Evernote, Trello (affiliate link to tell them Allie sent you) or Asana. All have desktop and mobile versions as well as limited, but free-to-use plans. I also like these tools because it makes it easy for me to share my list with my accountability partners, set due date reminders, and upload files related to a task, so pulling it all together later is one task I don’t have to add to a list.
Step 5: Accept accidents will still happen
No matter how well-behaved your list becomes, its heart is still that of a wild beast. Accidents, like forgotten commitments and missed due dates will still happen. Don’t rub your list’s nose in it. Don’t dwell on the failure and whatever you do, if your goals are important enough, don’t ever give up.
My grandmother, my father’s mother, was diagnosed with cancer when I was only a child. She was told she had only months to live. She wrote a note to the family and toured the world, I assume saying her last goodbyes to friends, before settling into a house on an island in the middle of the Caribbean Sea known as St. Martin or Sint Maarten depending on which side you were on.
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And so it was – paradise, that is. So much so, that my aunt lived there at the time as well along with two of my cousins, both near my age. They invited me to visit their school so they could introduce their American cousin to their friends, but I couldn’t fit it in. There was simply too much else to do, like dodging incoming airplanes or sitting on the beach.
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We let the wind take us to another nearby island where engines and bits of WWII fighter planes still dot the landscape. To both my amusement and embarrassment, we also learned that particular island also happened to be a stop for a nude cruise, giving a whole new meaning to the term, history buff.
We spent the rest of my visit scuba diving where I was given the nickname ‘she who sings with the fishes,’ as I had come up with the brilliant (and I now know completely ridiculous) idea I could extend the oxygen in my tank by humming. That’s also how I learned sound travels farther in water.
I have beautiful memories of that trip and always intended to go back and share it with the family. Maybe we could go one year when our work isn’t so crazy or the next when the kids aren’t quite so young. One cousin still lives there. We had plenty of time to visit.
But a category five hurricane with 185 mph winds decided to beat us to it.
Wednesday, September 6th, I spend a good portion of the day stalking the social media feeds of my extended family. Hurricane Irma had made landfall. My aunt had lost contact with her son, my island cousin, around six am. His brother, now stateside, forwarded links to island webcams showing a vaguely tree-like shadow shaking in an otherwise gray nothingness. The image wasn’t exactly comforting.
I clicked on another link. This one had a slightly clearer picture and I was relieved to an extent until I saw a notice posted above the video. It was only a loop of earlier footage, taken prior to complete loss of power and connectivity.
Nearly the entire day passed before we got the news – my island cousin had checked in from the other side of the storm. He’d lost his roof but helped rescue another person stuck in what was left of their home. Looters roamed, but he was making his way across the island with a chainsaw and a 4×4. He was okay, though the same couldn’t be said of the island I’d once known.
In the US mainland, we waited as the hurricane hit Antigua and Barbuda, Saint Barthelemy, Anguilla, Saint Kitts and Nevis, the US Virgin Islands of St. Croix, St. Thomas and St. John, the British Virgin Islands as well. Then Puerto Rico, the Dominican Republic, Haiti, which never seems to be able catch a break, the Bahamas, Turks, Caicos, and Cuba too, resulting in the deaths of 68 thus far [82 as of September 15th] and rendering thousands homeless. (Source: Don’t forget about us: Irma’s desperate Caribbean survivors, CNN & Irma’s Staggering Toll: At Least 68 Dead, Billions In Damage From the Caribbean to the U.S., The Weather Channel)
When the storm finally arrived on the mainland, no longer a category five, some people said they were unimpressed. However, I say, when a hurricane comes a-calling but decides at the last minute to turn away, the word you are looking for is grateful. Because as the last few days proved, when a storm like this comes to your door, it is anything but another day in paradise.
For those wishing to do more, I would encourage you to check out the facebook group SXMabroad which is a group whose goal is to A) provide a consolidated list of reputable organization to for the purpose of financial donations B) organize groups of people who have the time and ability go and help re-build and C) do whatever this group can to encourage tourism to rebound as quickly as appropriate.
A three-day weekend loomed in front of us and our plan was to have no plan. We’d sleep in as much as the children allowed. We’d stay in. After being away from home most weekends in August, my husband and I were looking forward to tackling a few projects but generally doing nothing more than relaxing. It would be a weekend to simply enjoy being a family.
It was a good plan.
I’d no sooner stepped out of my bedroom Saturday morning when I was met in the hall by my eldest son and his best friend, Biff. “Mom! Biff invited me to go with them to a mud run. Can I go? Can I?” I blinked. I hadn’t drunk enough coffee that morning to be able to process that level of excitement. It was a wonder I’d even gotten into my day clothes already.
I stalled. “Those things usually cost money.”
“My mom will take care of it,” Biff assured me.
I felt like there was something I was missing. Kiddo would be out of the house all morning? He’d be exercising instead of alternating between begging me to allow him to binge-watch his latest favorite cartoon (there are only six seasons, mom), creating Lego minefields, or complaining about how bored he was and I wouldn’t have to pay for it? It seemed too good to be true.
It was.
We learned no such offer had been authorized. Sure, Kiddo was welcome to come along (the more the merrier!) but the insurance waiver clearly stated that a legally responsible adult must be present along with every child. One of us, either my husband or I, would have to go with Kiddo else live with a weekend long case of ‘you are the worst parents ever!’ There went our relaxing morning.
My husband and I faced off like gunslingers at noon in an old western.
“It’s only a couple of miles,” my husband pointed out.
“You are the one training to run another marathon,” I reminded his father.
*do-la-doooooo wha wha whaaaaaa*
“Please?” I swear Kiddo batted his eyelashes. (Don’t ask me where he learned that trick).
My husband broke first. “I’ll go change.”
LT, our youngest, caught wind of the conversation. He had no idea what a mud run was, but his brother and father were going. He would not be left out or heads would roll (as would the rest of him as his tantrums are typically full body affairs). Then all four of us were at the starting line with the elder Potts guys in their work out attire and me and LT standing on the spectator side with a camera and their spare clothes.
A fog horn blew and then they were off.
A short time later, two incredibly filthy smiling faces crossed the finish line. I know they were smiling because the only part that wasn’t covered in brown was their shiny teeth. The shoes they’d worn were tossed in a pile which would be industrially cleaned and donated to those in need. A large tanker truck provided the water needed to remove the mud from Kiddo’s ear. Speakers blasted music while LT grabbed fistfuls of grass and rubbed them into his hair and across his belly in order to look like one of the participants. We hadn’t brought a change of clothes for him, but I found I didn’t mind. Not one part of the morning had gone to plan, but it was still a good morning.
No. It was a better morning.
I am a planner by nature as much as by habit. I set goals. I track milestones. I know how to keep a program advancing, but though it is making me twitchy writing this, there are times you have to focus on the outcome, but let the plan go.
“Stay committed to your decisions, but stay flexible in your approach.” – Tony Robbins
I was supposed to have another book out by now, but my characters rebelled. I found myself asking what was more important? My outline or my outcome.
I thought my outline was a good one. I’d put real thought into it. I’d spent hours if not days planning and pacing. I’d created character profiles and scene summaries. I’d researched setting. It should have worked, but it didn’t, and ultimately I allowed myself the flexibility to adapt moving forward. I picked outcome.
Though I hate that it has taken so long to get to this point, I have to admit my characters were right. I rewrote my plan. I altered my method. I’ve received my feedback from my beta readers and all that is left to do is a few manageable rewrites and work through my final edits before sending it out to the next round of advanced proof readers (if that sounds like something you’d enjoy, please contact me at allie AT alliepottswrites DOT com).
The path to publishing this book may have deviated from my plan. It’s taken a few twists and gotten messy along the way but my commitment has never wavered. With a little patience and a whole lot of support, I will publish this book and it may just be better than I ever planned for.
