Happens that I wrote this last week on a Sanibel Island retreat and fully intended to post it then. But, as it happened, unexpectedly, I fully immersed in the experience. So, I never did post. Then, today after a "feels like spring" yesterday, it's full blown--literally, blowing white and sideways, capital B BLIZZARD. So, snowed in,  I'm thinking Sanibel and thus posting now... Happenstance!

Why am I on Sanibel Island? Holiday? No. . . . Yes . . . Could have been, except: I have an Agenda!. A complete plan fulling formulated in my Bullet Journal. My intention is to align the chunks and bits of a middle grade novel I have been writing so I can finish this draft. A momentous goal, yes. But one I felt sure I could accomplish given the expected situation. 

Sanibel sand and surf! My view as I sit typing. No, I am not on the beach...really.

Sanibel sand and surf! My view as I sit typing. No, I am not on the beach...really.

As it happened, the reason I am on Sanibel Island is my sis-in-law, Marilyn Bennett, an author and filmmaker  is teaching a course at Big Arts, a three-day, 3-hours per day, class on how to get started writing one's stories. I'm her guest. 

The way this guest-invite was couched, I would have days--all day, every day, for seven days of solitude while Marilyn taught and did whatever she had/wanted/needed to do. Evenings, from Sundowners on, would be girl time with Marilyn and our hostess and friend, Deborah.

Definition of happenstance
: a circumstance especially that is due to chance
— https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/happenstance

It so happened, I was home packing my suitcase when Marilyn called and texted asking me to take her course. (I think she wanted me to provide color commentary ala Monday-night Football.--Over to you Chet!)  By way of twisting my arm, Marilyn said I'd be "Doing her a favor." Little did she know..."

Deborah's enrolled, too," she said. (Which upped the guilt factor and interest quotient.) How could I not say "Yes." 

Yes, Steven Pressfield, I did consider this was one more way of avoiding writing "The End" on my manuscript and thus having to send it out into the world to face criticism . . .  

Needless to say--but I'll say it anyway--when class time came, I was there--last one to arrive, sans paper and pen, but There. And to quote Chauncey Gardner, isn't that what it's all about? Being There?"

My post from last week end with that. (What happened later, comes later.) So what's my point? Simple, when SH#* Happens, don't explain, don't complain, flip it.