Fifteenth in the 1K a Day Motivational Series, in which I talk about something that happened in the previous week that could have or did prevent me from writing a minimum of 1,000 words on a given day, or possibly talk about something that provided support to get me through the day.

This week’s post isn’t so much about me as it is about the people around me. As Spring has sprung, as it is known to do, it is also the time for everyone and their dogs to go traipsing all over the world, moving from neighborhood to neighborhood, city to city, state to state. 

To be clear, I’m not moving. No, instead my parents, 13 years in Oklahoma, are moving out of state since my father accepted a new position at his company. Hurrahs all around!

But we all know that moving is stressful, and moving out of state triply so. There’s a zillion and one calls to make, papers to sign, meetings to have, boxes to pack and move, decisions to make.

But I’m not the one moving, you say. It shouldn’t affect your ability to write, you say.

I am a big dude and the first person most people call when they need help moving their things. Sometimes I have reasons why I can’t help someone move stuff on a particular day, but this is my parents we’re talking about.

They ask for my help and I show up. They need me for a few hours after work one night? I’m there. So now here’s the problem:

I have an 8+ hour day at work, a 90-minute round-trip commute, a need to eat something, 1,000 words to write at a minimum, and three hours worth of furniture and boxes and things to move around. Not in that order.

I’m not complaining. I love my folks and I’ll do just about anything for them. So now I have about an hour left in my day to do anything else that needs doing, plus the 1,000 words. Or I can stay up late, closer to midnight, and lose a couple hours of sleep in order to get the writing done if I have other stuff still going on.

So what do I do? I help with the moving of things until it’s crunch time, then excuse myself and cram the words in. I have been writing up til the last minute before on some of those hard days, and in the case of these moving days, one of them was really close like this.

But I sacrificed something to get it done. A couple hours once or twice a week isn’t going to do too much damage in the long run (it will do damage, just not a ton), so I don’t feel bad about that sacrifice.

So do what you have to do, and then do that other stuff you also have to do, and damnit, write the hell on, writers.