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A few weeks ago, I saw a crab using an exercise wheel.
Wait, let me back up.
I was transporting two carriers of orphaned baby opossums across the city in rush-hour traffic to the home of a wildlife rehabber when...
Hang on, let me back up a little more.
If you haven’t been keeping up with my blog posts and Facebook page, or if you subscribed to my newsletter by accident because you thought it was a coupon for a free pizza (it’s not, sorry) then you might not know I volunteer with a local organization whose mission is to rescue, rehab, and release injured and orphaned wildlife. In addition to working one day a week at the center, cleaning cages, feeding animals, and doing a lot of dishes and laundry, I also recently joined their transport team. Usually, that means jumping in the car to go pick up an animal that’s hurt or sick and taking it to the wildlife center to receive critical care. I enjoy doing this. Although not every situation has a happy ending and not every animal can be saved, it makes me feel good to be a part of a group that tries so hard to give every little life a fighting chance. (Scroll down to see how you can help, too!)
However, sometimes animal transport is less urgent. Sometimes healthy animals just need to be moved to an at-home rehabber to make room for more critical patients at the center. In that case, I’m less like a caped crusader heroically saving the day and more like a ride-share for particularly smelly passengers. In the aforementioned instance, my role was opossum Uber.
So, like I said, I recently drove ten little opies across DFW to a woman so she could continue their rehab in her home. On the way, we listened to a fantasy novel and discussed the poor decision-making of other drivers.*
When we arrived at our destination, I helped the opossums' new foster mom get them safely into their cages. Then I met some of her other animals, such as her blind, elderly dog, her blind, elderly cat, and her lovely terrarium filled with the largest, most beautiful hermit crabs I've ever seen. When I asked about them, she told me they were eight years old and, because they had the appropriate environment and living conditions, would likely live much longer.
I was thinking about all the poor hermit crabs given to me and my classmates in elementary school in the 1980s and how most had dried up and perished in their sad little plastic containers after only a few weeks, when I realized that one of the enormous, healthy hermit crabs in this 5-star hermit crab hotel was using an exercise wheel. Slowly, steadily, it reached its little claws out, grabbing the smooth plastic and tenaciously turning the tiny treadmill. I could practically hear the Rocky theme song.
At that moment, I died a little inside. Nothing had ever made me feel so lazy.
There’s a condition some writers face called “compare despair.” It’s the glum feeling you get when you see another author succeed at something you haven’t done yet, like finishing a manuscript or signing with an agent or publishing a debut novel. Bethany Hegedus—children’s author, owner of The Writing Barn, and fearless leader of the Courage to Create program—constantly reminds us that creativity is not a competition and if we focus on our goals, the milestones will happen. I believe this, and not just because Bethany is a ray of inspirational sunshine. I honestly don't struggle with jealousy much. When I hear that another writer signed with their dream agent or see a friend’s book on the shelves at Barnes & Noble, I’m genuinely excited for them and feel newly inspired to do what it takes to enjoy the same success someday.
So I didn’t expect compare despair to rear its ugly head while I was looking into a terrarium, but seeing that hermit crab on the exercise wheel, I suddenly experienced allllllll the self doubt.
Here I was, sleeping in instead of taking my morning walks, letting boxes on my to-do list go unchecked, and procrastinating on my writing goals, while this robust little crustacean was completely showing me up. Her work ethic and willpower were putting my productivity to shame.
But... I'm proud to say I rallied. Instead of getting crabby (pun intended) about my recent rejections and spiraling further into gloom, I refocused on one of my core beliefs from the Courage to Create community: It takes the time it takes. We all move at our own speed. Patience and persistence are key. The road to publication is slow and full of potholes, but you'll get there eventually as long as you keep going.
In the weeks that followed, when I didn't want to get up to go to yoga, I thought of the hermit crab. When I wanted to crawl under the covers and avoid my tasks, I pictured her emerging from her shell to exercise. When I struggled to finish a scene or revision, I imagined her steadily turning that wheel.
I admire that little hermit crab and want to thank her for inspiring me to continue to work toward my goals. But I swear, if she publishes a novel before I do, I'm going to be livid.
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