You’ll never find a better sparring partner than adversity. —Golda Meir
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It was 12:34 a.m. when Frank woke up. We know because he said later he looked at the digital clock on the night table and thought how interesting it was that the time was 1-2-3-4. That was just a second or two before a bone-rattling crash shook the house.
I had never heard a sound like that before. Coming out of a deep sleep, I found myself standing beside the bed before I was fully awake. At first, I thought lightning must have struck the house to cause such a deafening noise.
The burglar alarm was blaring, so we both rushed out into the front hall. I ran straight to the alarm keypad and shut it down. Then I looked toward the sunroom, and my bewilderment deepened.
Our sunroom was at the back of the house. It ran along the center portion of the house and was connected to the living and dining rooms by several glass-paned doors. Those doors had to be closed and deadlocked in order for the burglar alarm to be armed. All the doors were wide open. That’s when I got nervous. Maybe somebody had broken into the house after all.
Then my eyes adjusted to the darkness, and I could see debris hanging down from the ceiling in the sunroom, and there was a strong aroma of oak. None of it made sense.
Frank decided to take a flashlight and go outside to see if he could figure out what was going on. I thought that was a really bad idea, but I couldn’t think of anything better, so he left. In a little while he returned. “You’re not going to believe this,” he said. (That’s not good thing to hear at any time, but especially not in the middle of the night.)
A very old and very large oak tree (we figure it weighed approximately ten tons) that was just off the north end of the house had fallen directly along the length of the house and was lying like a beached behemoth on top of the sunroom, kept in place by the very large slot it had made in the roof on the north end of the house.
The tree had taken out part of the roof over the kitchen, the sunroom, and the second story as well as part of the second story wall. Fortunately, our bedroom was at the south end of the house.
The lights in the house were blinking, and we were afraid of wire damage that could cause a fire, so we called the fire department. When they arrived, they checked the house but couldn’t find evidence of fire. However, they suggested we turn off the master switch and go to a hotel to spend the night, which we did.
The next morning, we met our insurance agent at the house to assess the damage. When we walked around to the backyard to view the situation in the daylight, the sight was more awe-inspiring than the sound had been the night before.
The base of the tree was hanging off the north end (right side) of the house and the main part of the trunk lay on the sunroom roof. The top of the tree extended off the south end of the house and beyond the frame of this picture.
We arranged for a company to bring in a crane to remove the tree from the house. I held my breath as a very brave man climbed onto the tree and used a chain saw to cut the top piece off so the crane could lift it and set it down in the backyard. Then he moved to the next piece, and took the monster off the roof one very large piece at a time.
It would take months to deal with the aftereffects. During that time, we moved into an apartment, met with contractors, oversaw the repairs, and dealt with our insurance company (which was very supportive, thank goodness), all around our regular work schedules. Plans we had for those months were put on hold. Necessity is the mother of new scheduling.
All ended well. The contractors did a fabulous job of rebuilding the house, and our insurance company treated us with the utmost respect and care. The insurance covered almost everything, and in the end, the house was in as good or better shape than it had been before.
It took a while, and it wasn’t fun, but everything returned to normal eventually. (Well, almost everything. I used to view trees as my friends. Now I regard them as potential criminals. 😒)
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We all know that life can take a wrong turn sometimes. Things happen. The best laid plans and all that.
So what does this have to do with writing? It’s obvious, right? We come to a stopping point in the WIP and realize things are a mess. We’re going to have to make major repairs to make the story structure solid. It’s time to rethink, reschedule, and do the hard work of rebuilding. But the end result will be better. All in service to the story.
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So TKZers: Have you ever had to stop and regroup when you were writing? How do you handle it when a giant problem lands right in the middle of your story?
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