I am lost in the labyrinth of my own thoughts. Revisions have my mindset lingering, hovering above my story, circling and recircling its three acts. Act I is all about introducing characters, world building, and unravelling a problem. Act II takes us on a journey, while bit by bit we chip away at solving the problem in a succession of scenes moving us closer to a solution, or dismally in the wrong direction. Then, in Act III our heroine finally gets it together and fixes not just her problem, but herself, leading to a satisfying conclusion.
However, I’m not lost in contemplating my actual novel revisions right now. You see, today is my birthday, and if my parents’ current ages of 90 predict my likely aging progression, I’m firmly in Act III of my life.
Growing up with a birthday two days after Christmas, meant all my annual waiting came at the same time. If Advent seemed to take forever for you, imagine it doubling my impatient longing for my own birthday simultaneously. In Act I of my life, I was all eagerness to “get there.” The eagerness for accomplishment transferred into a feeling of general restlessness during Act II. “What do I need to get done?” then the striving to complete it. Only, the feeling of “arrival” never actually arrived.
This awareness came during a recent Zoom call. While discussing writing and Advent, my brain was processing Christ’s arrivals into three acts: The first coming, the daily indwelling, and the second coming. I thought, the long awaited first coming’s celebration of angelic singing lasted one quick blip in the whole of creation’s timeline. Arrival lasts a few seconds and then we’re on to the next waiting.
Not long before that call I celebrated a long-awaited advent in my writing life when I signed a contract for representation with a literary agent. One of my friends asked how long it would take for me to get published. “I’m afraid it doesn’t guarantee she’ll ever find a publisher for my work. And if she does it will be a couple of years before I hold a book in my hand.” I explained, while secretly hoping the second and third acts of my writing life would come quickly. “But I’m enjoying the process, no matter the outcomes. I like putting my stories onto paper.” I have to make that enough of why to keep doing it; a moment of success will be too short without it.
These realizations have me treading tenderly in Act III, not knowing if I’ll have the luxury of multiple celebratory endings. (Think, The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King.) Perhaps I’ll have to tie a quick knot on loose ends, or someone else may have to complete my scene, should my ending come abruptly. I know I’ll be okay no matter how Act III plays out. I’m enjoying it: I’ve got a great cast of characters alongside me, and my Writer is one doozie of a creative genius. So, I better find my way out of this maze in my mind, put my fingers on the keyboard, and revise the novel I’m actually writing.
Your Turn: Most off this life, we are waiting, not arriving. It’s my aim for Act III to embrace the wait, enjoy the process, put getting there over the moment of arrival. Can you see your first thirty years as Act I, the second as Act II, and your golden age of 60+ as your third act?
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