Jobs & Identity

Writing and Littles

Writing and Littles

Samantha Gratton

It’s one of those nights where if I don’t write now I’ll probably burst into a million letters and commas—and especially em dashes.

So often I feel like a writer without a home. Not without a literal home because we live in an adorable little rental (emphasis on the “little”) in my favorite part of town (hence the reason why we might not ever leave). As a writer though, I don’t always know where I best fit.

My writing floats throughout the internet searching for meaningful pages to land on and hopefully, for eyeballs to read it and hearts to connect with. I work with publications who print articles featuring my very own byline and clients who want some ghost writing with their names at the top—both of which enable me to type away and even earn a few bucks on the side. But it doesn’t always feel like mine. Then this blog, this space, is technically my own. But I can get caught up in who my audience is or which friend, family member, or potential client might misinterpret my spilled out thoughts or carefully crafted post. My inhibitions take over, and I quarantine my words and expressive phrases to my mind or perhaps a google doc.

Almost seven years ago when I first started this blog called Moving Peaces it was to document a potential cross-country move. “Moving” was obviously for the literal move at the time. Then “Peaces” was my ever-so-clever play on words while also giving a nod to a desire to live peacefully despite my fears of the unknowns.  Now, I can’t imagine moving away from this house, let alone across state lines anytime soon. Instead my movement is small but constant as I chase around a toddler and tend to a newborn. And peace? Well sometimes it’s found in the mere moments when both kids are sleeping…before I remember I need to do more laundry or finally take a shower.

Some days I feel the thoughts rearranging into complete sentences or concepts in my head, but my hands are too full to type. Other days my mind feels so numb and tired that by the time I have the opportunity to write, nothing comes to mind. Yet if asked what I do for work or where my core creativity lies, my reply comes swiftly, “I’m a writer.”

Life is full of different seasons, and I try to live in the season I’m in at the moment. Sometimes seasons last a few months, while sometimes they last a few years. Right now I’m unmistakably in the season of littles. Little hearts, little hands, little (and big) messes. Which also means little time, little opportunity, and little energy left at the end of the day. At times, it feels like only a little bit of me as I wrestle with what I prioritize and what I let go of when facing my current limitations and obligations.

Writing is one of those things that feels so innate to me, yet in this season it also feels fleeting.  As I strive toward a better understanding of where my writing belongs, I also have a few little hearts to care for—hearts belonging to littles, who belong to me. So perhaps I’m the writer currently in between assignments, or in a different season, or caught somewhere in between the lines. Yet somehow I know—deep in my bones—that one day this writing will find its proper home.

 

 

In it to win it

In it to win it

Samantha Gratton

I think sometimes we ask why we do what we do and if it’s a worthwhile endeavor when reflecting on our choices. Many evenings the past few years I’ve considered the same two options: I could spend time writing or I could lay on the couch and watch TV. One feels easier than the other…but is it because there’s less risk? There’s undoubtedly less potential reward to merely consume instead of create. 

Writing fills me up as I pour out the words and thoughts. Yet at the same time, it depletes me. It takes my time and energy, but with it also some of my hopes and dreams. Aspirations of connecting with a wider audience or building toward a bigger project. When said like that, it’s hard not to say, Where’s audience? Where’s the awards? Where’s the blog sponsorship or book deal?

Simply put, they aren’t there in spades. Will they all someday show up out of thin air? Probably not. Will they ever come after years of effort? I don’t know. Is it still worth it regardless of the possible accolades?

It’s nice to know what we’re working towards. Goals give us direction, purpose, and motivation. But even if I want a larger audience or awards or a monetary deal to transpire, can it still be good without those? You know, as is.

Married to a musician, we’re constantly asking ourselves if the amount of time, money, energy, and even physical space that is devoted to music is justified. Likewise, I second guess myself when it comes to writing here on my blog or for a random publication or on yet another word doc to metaphorically collect dust while stored in the depths of my hard drive. Sure, it’s great to pursue your passions, but we have a family and friends and jobs and responsibilities that need tending to. At what point do we sacrifice what we love for those things (and which is which)? Conversely, when is it worth continuing to press forward despite the sacrifices required…even without a payoff guaranteed on the other side?

For instance, is it enough to just compete in the Olympics if there’s no way you could even come close to the podium? Should you be in it to win it? I can’t help but think about Olympic halfpipe skier Elizabeth Swaney. If you didn’t see her run in PyeongChang, it was entirely lackluster and she received the lowest score by a landslide. People have a lot of opinions, and it’s hard to even say if what she did was admirable or embarrassing. On the one hand, she technically made it to the Olympics but on the other hand, some may say she didn’t belong there at all. Was it an accomplishment or was it a completely foolish waste of time?

Then again, isn’t it still an enjoyable hike and experience up a mountain even if you don’t reach the summit? As a rather unaccomplished hiker and climber, I feel confident in saying, Yes, yes it is worth it. But I only go on a few hikes a year (if that), and rock climb each week to squeeze in a little healthy exercise. I never aspire for more than that. Therefore my level of effort and ongoing mental consideration toward hiking/climbing is likewise reflected. Is that the difference? Having completely grounded and realistic expectations of my progress and no wild dreams or creative passion tied into it?

Somehow writing is different. Music is different. Although I’ll never be a painter or sculptor, I assume that’s different too. It’s more personal and protected in a way. Hence the continued questions and thought toward the value and worth behind my thought and energy devoted toward creativity. But then are those questions themselves worthwhile or are they merely excuses to hide behind? Honestly, it’s easier to just turn on the TV at the end of a long day. Rather than deeply consider the potential to create something of significance or obscurity, I watch someone else’s stories unfold on a screen and feel a mix of rested and restless.

Eventually, something seeps out, because you can’t hold back creativity forever. There we circle…back and forth, the cycle of self-doubt and fleeting satisfaction.

The question remains, is it worth it?

The day everything was off

The day everything was off

Samantha Gratton

I didn’t lose power, I didn’t lose anything really other than maybe another hour of sleep. But today felt like it started like many of mine do–tired and resistant to the idea of leaving my bed. The overcast skies were of no help either.

Today is another day. A day for work and making meals and fighting the never-ending battle of being overrun by toys in almost every inch of my house. It started with the no-less-than ten-minute game of “clothe the toddler” as he playfully scrambles from room to room while I chase after him, trying to squeeze on another article of clothing. By the time we had finally packed the car and headed to preschool I thought we had made it. We got there, albeit late, and now the day could start anew as I spent the next few hours kid-free. But as I drove over to work at a new-to-me coffee shop with a friend, I struggled to gather my thoughts and my fatigue.

I arrived feeling disheveled and out of place. This wasn’t my usual work spot on the couch. It was full of lively college students and young adults with their multi-colored hair and trendy green coats. My computer needed an outlet to survive, which meant wedging myself in the middle of a small bench to claim access to the power strip. It was loud and full of stories, but made it hard to write mine.

As I attempted to get in a groove and focus, I realized my wedding ring I’m constantly adjusting was left at home due to going rock climbing last night. My back-up hair tie was also gone from my wrist, and I have nothing to fidget with. Suddenly I’m surprised to be staring at a blank page without a clue what I will write.

Am I in over my head? What am I doing here? If I can’t manage a simple thing like showing up to a new coffee shop without feeling like a total klutz, how will I convince someone to hire me for more freelance assignments? What if I’m not a real writer anyway? If I can’t manage the first sentence, how will the next 1,500 words of this assignment ever seep out?

That toddler who needs to be picked up in an hour? I can barely seem to get him dressed in time for school and am often counting down the hours until nap time or bedtime. What if I’m not cut out for this? I’m not that mom who makes sensory bins or has a new project for him each day. Sure, we go on long walks around town and hit up some museums occasionally, but often our biggest outing of the week is the grocery store. And it’s an Aldi week…the prices are good, but I don’t feel like I have the patience for the manual labor that trip requires.

Some days I feel more in the zone, more confident and capable. More grateful and maybe more rested. But regardless of off days or on days, I have to remember we as humans will experience both. We can’t constantly achieve and succeed. It’s not all upward motion. We need to go down to go up, or even just to go forward. There will be doubts, questions, or feelings of inadequacy. There will be “meh” cloudy days that no amount of caffeine can pep things up. Not even bad, terrible days, just off days. Days of feeling like a klutz and mentally disorganized.

Today might be off for me. It might even be a total wash, only time will tell. But I’m still doing it. I’m a writer and a mom, a wife and friend. It’s just a matter of continuing to show up–whether feeling on or off.

Who knows, maybe the off days define us more than the on ones?

 

 

How quickly we forget

How quickly we forget

Samantha Gratton

Where did I put my keys? When’s the library book due? Did I take my vitamins yet today? What’s the name of that person…the one I just met?

All day long, I’m reminded of my short memory. While I may be able to tell you exactly what happened the week before I graduated high school with vivid memory or spout out just when was the last time we all sat in the same room together, I also manage to forget everything.

I forget what life was like before toys were everywhere and a toddler was serving as my primary alarm clock. I forget the strength of the body of work I’ve created or what I’m capable of. I forget how brave I’ve been and the kind of incredible moments it’s caused. I forget who cares about me or what kind of impact I’ve had at some point. I forget the many goals I’ve achieved and bucket list items I’ve checked. I forget the places I’ve seen and people I’ve encountered. I forget what I’m working towards, what we’re aiming for at the end of the day, week, month, or year.

Because I’m not paying attention. 

I’m tired. I’m distracted. I’m bored. I’m lonely. I’m self-depricating. I’m jealous. I’m busy. I’m scared.

Here’s the thing, I think sometimes we’re living the lives of our dreams. We’ve forgotten that this, what we once wished for or only imagined, is what we’ve wanted all along. Instead of achievement or elation, we forget because we’ve already started dreaming and lusting after another life. We get to this point, wherever it may be and it isn’t everything we expected. So we move on and determine that this wasn’t the life we dreamed up, because it’s simply not enough (or too much). There’s still a struggle and grind toward that next hurdle to cross.

Now don’t misunderstand me when I say that sometimes we’re living our dreams because in reality, sometimes we are living our nightmares. This is not to make light of those very real and painful moments. There are seasons of grief or misery that strike, and those are most obviously not the lives we’ve dreamed of.  But those times may remind us of what we’ve forgotten, either in the moment or once we’ve gotten to the other side of the season. 

So what have I forgotten? That I spend time each day watching my son learn and grow. That I love the man I married. That we live in a space and city that suits our needs. That I am healthy and capable. That I’m working as a writer in a freelance capacity. That I have friends and a community to support me. That I have the opportunity to be creative, generous, and kind.

Junior high me is swooning right now. High school me is overjoyed. College me is amazed. Early twenties me is ecstatic. Mid-twenties me is thrilled. And late twenties me? Feeling forgetful but grateful.

Are there things in my life that aren’t ideal? Sure. Am I sometimes lonely or exhausted or bored or about to go crazy if I hear another battery-operated kid song? Yes, absolutely. But in so many ways, this moment I’ve landed on is fulfilling so many of my hopes and dreams. Therefore I want to live in celebration of what it is I have and what has been achieved. Instead of living in comparison or discontentment, I want to cherish and commemorate. Perhaps, this is as good as it’s going to get. You know what? I’ll take it, because in more ways than one, I’m living my dreams.

And that’s something I don’t want to forget.

Proof of Creativity

Proof of Creativity

Samantha Gratton

There’s something about creativity that begs to be seen. Show me your big idea, let me read your work, play me a song, hang up your art, watch that video project.

And then the masses, they can say, “how nice, how artistic, how talented” you are at that thing. Or, of course, there’s also the risk of a negative response, or even worse, no response or acknowledgement whatsoever, leaving that creativity vulnerable and alone in the world.

But one is never enough. You need a body and collection of work. It can never be stagnant or stale. You think you’re a writer? You call yourself a musician? You want to be a videographer? You consider yourself an actress? You say you’re an artist, a dancer, a dreamer, a poet? Prove it. 

Instead of the love and the passion and the drive that once compelled such creativity, you find hustle and exhaustion and burnout. A world that says, if you don’t keep churning out more you’ll be lost and left behind by all the ones ready to chew you up and take your spot.

It places all of your worth into what you produce or your results. You’re only as good as your latest project, and it better be something recent, otherwise, what have you been doing all this time?

And not only that, but where’s the self-promotion, the curated pieces, the shows and the gigs and the countless fans along the way?

For the average creative, or maybe just for me, it’s too much. The hustle and chase and sacrifice is too great. Maybe that means I’ll never make it or never have my name in lights. I’d like to hope instead that it means that my creativity and my sense of self will still stay intact.

May the thoughts and dreams that excite me stay possibilities and perhaps even one day realities, instead of drowned out by the noise and expectations to keep the same rapid pace of someone else. May my success be simply gratitude for the ability to create and connect with others, instead of an addiction to constant adoration and attention that can never quite be fulfilled. May I find moments for creativity and inspiration but not feel it is my only or greatest legacy.

That’s not to say that hard work, dedication, and motivation have no place here. All of these make their home here, just as I welcome space, grace, rest, and relationships. It’s about finding a balance and enjoyment instead of making chores out of the things I love.

So, for the last few months the blog has been quiet. This time I don’t think I’ll try to promise a revitalization coming soon but just let it happen as it happens. As for creative side projects, our music has been getting more of my energy and effort for the time being. At work, my writing and editing has continued. At home, we’ve chosen to listen to the need for rest when it comes, to celebrate weekend afternoons relaxing on the porch or rolling on the floor with our little one.

Does my work say something? Sure, sometimes. But more importantly, I’d like my life to speak louder. Not through fame or failures, but through my faith, family, and friendships.

 

Putting it into Perspective

Putting it into Perspective

Samantha Gratton

There’s this thing that we use to shape our experiences and thoughts called perspective. It’s the vantage point from which we view life, our attitudes, and opinions. Perspective often helps us see beyond ourselves–to take in more information and look at the big picture or to be sensitive to small details that make a big impact.

But sometimes, we abuse that perspective. We compare bad situations to dire ones and suddenly feel like there is no need for help or improvement. We say things like, “Because this isn’t THAT, it’s fine” or “I’ve had worse” or “His situation is really bad, so I shouldn’t mind mine.”

While usually said with good intentions and can be stated a way to lessen the blow to some bad news or issue…it can also lead to a misrepresentation of the reality in a situation.

Do we need to cry over a stubbed toe like we would for cancer? No. Should we be grateful for what we have? Absolutely. But is there still room for growth and improvement and action? Most likely.

For example, my baby cries when his diaper needs changing (you’d think the world was ending by the way he shrieks, but no, it’s just wet). If I said to him, “Don’t you know you have such a good life and are well taken care of? Not all kids are as lucky as you!“–that would be true, but wouldn’t change the fact that his diaper is dirty and needs to be addressed. Looking only at the good but ignoring the immediate issue doesn’t actually solve anything. Instead, it diminishes his cries for help and perpetuates the problem.

Perhaps, there is reason to be upset or to seek improvement, and we need to be open to that. We need to have a self-awareness about what is happening so we can best address it. Maybe that means acknowledging a loss or celebrating a win. Saying things aren’t where they should be or could be at work or in a relationship. Admitting there are areas in life that need improvement, be it health, organization, motivation, or otherwise. Maybe it means being proactive in realizing that things are good now, but they aren’t to be taken for granted or assumed.

So to put it all in perspective, could things be worse? Sure. Could they be better? Perhaps. Either way, it’s worth being realistic about the present situation in order to best address it.

 

What I Write and What I Want

Samantha Gratton

On the Horizon
It’s been a few weeks, and I’m still not sure how to pick up where I left off. A lot has happened and is happening. A few difficult yet vaguely described months this past fall/winter were followed by some resolve, some redirection, and some utter ridiculousness. In all of that, I question what it is I most want to say.

I have talked a few times about how much I appreciate writing and have been grateful that this blog has been a place for that. It’s been a way to update people, to share my thoughts, and to think through the different things going on in our lives. But it is also a place people come to read those things, which is something I consider very carefully. A handful of people have told me that they read my blog, which is always a flattering compliment, so I have a limited notion of my audience. There are also many people I’ve never met and know nothing about.

To me, the listeners/readers are often just as important as the message. This isn’t a journal, so if I don’t consider my audience, I do a disservice to us both. Lately, with a lot of transition and life going on, I’ve been considering even more carefully what it is that I’m saying and how my words are portrayed to those who are watching and reading. There are times filled with great news or success that I want to shout about and times when I just love the little details in life and want to share them. There are moments of frustration I want to lash out in passive aggression and moments of hurt or fear that I want to describe and sort through.

But the question becomes, what is my purpose? What is it I most want to do through my life and likewise, my writing?

Do I want to have a big platform? Do I want lots of likes and attention? Do I want to promote or sell something? Do I want to woo or impress? Do I want to simply have a creative outlet or a modern-day scrapbook?

Ultimately, none of those are my purpose, and in realizing this, I’ve stepped back. I’ve considered each word and each post and the impact it has. In this time of contemplation I have yet to figure out where to go from here and what I most want to say. But I know I want to keep writing. I want to connect with people. I want to write in a way that encourages, inspires, and relates.

Not only is this my favorite type of writing, but this is the type of writing I most love to read. I have learned and grown so much from reading what others write as they face challenges, celebrate victories, find their faith, and pursue their purpose. Not only that, but these are the lives that carry the greatest impact. Some people have strong voices or get loads of attention, but I’m not after the megaphone moments or a picture perfect type of lifestyle.

I want true authenticity and real relationships; loud joy and quiet success; wisdom over wealth; words filled with grace and also with thanks, and through it all, no matter what, I want to have faith, hope, and love. 

Plans and Expectations

Samantha Gratton

Calendar photo by Brandon Redfern

Plans and goals–they sound like such good things. Dreams and deadlines mean something has to happen. It tells a story of progress and forward motion toward (hopefully) all of the right things. It is refusing to stand idle while life threatens to pass you by.

But is that all? Is it only the promise of good that can come from such hopes and aspirations?

What about the bitter disappointment that comes when things don’t go “as planned” in life? Or the fits we throw when someone doesn’t live up to our expectations? We lose trust and hold a grudge when things don’t look the way we envisioned, because that’s only fair. This was not what we had in mind, therefore it is practically our right to let the world know.

Honestly, you and I, we are allowed to be disappointed. I will never be the person that says you should only be happy or at least attempting happiness in every moment of life. Emotions come in a wide range and part of life is allowing ourselves to experience the many joys and frustrations that a range of emotions can bring. Go ahead and feel down when you’re sad, elated when you’re happy, conflicted when you’re confused or overwhelmed. This not only makes us human, it also allows us to cope with our situation and better empathize with others.

That said, sometimes I think we set ourselves up for disappointment when we don’t have to. 

We put these high expectations on ourselves to be something and achieve something. Then we go around putting these expectations on the people around us. We make plans as if that will lock in the things we want and then pay no regard to the fact that we only have the slightest bit of control over it. If it’s in the calendar, then it’s bound to happen, right?

Right now, I have no interest in making any plans more than a few weeks away. There’s so much that can happen in a month, three months, eight months, a year. The farther ahead we plan, the farther it feels from something I can count on. I would not be planning based on reality, but on pure speculation and therefore creating more expectations to uphold. Life has too many variables and the vast majority of them are well outside of our control. 

We don’t know what will happen tomorrow, much less a month from now. Tragedy could strike, opportunity could knock, the unexpected could happen. Health-related, weather-related, people-related, work-related, government-related–which of those things can you reasonably control? Sure, you can exercise, bring an umbrella, invest in the lives of others, work hard, vote, and whatever else to contribute to the overall impact (and you should), but don’t fool yourself into believing you’ve therefore earned it and can will things to happen the way you want.

Let’s instead put our hope in the right things. Let’s give grace when expectations aren’t met and think more realistically when it comes to our dreams and deadlines. Let’s be cautious to make plans and realize when we are forming absolutes in our minds. Let’s do our best, but know that most things are beyond our control and therefore let go of our reliance on our own expectations.

Let’s give the same grace and space for in our own lives as we do in the lives of others.

 

Employee of the Month

Samantha Gratton

Employee of the Month | Moving Peaces

I’ve got an announcement: I’m officially the Employee of the Month. Yes, thank you for your applause, kind words, and flowers. This is just such an amazing moment for me. 

Where at, you ask? Oh, uh…my little yellow house. So I guess you could say there wasn’t much competition, BUT the hard work and effort was all there. And no, my husband did not bestow upon me such prestige and glory, it was self-awarded.

Alright, jokes and sarcasm aside, I thought I’d give you a little update on what I do during the day. Frankly, it changes all the time and has been an interesting journey, but I’m really grateful for it.

Some of you know, I have worked in communications and project management for years. That work has allowed me to think creatively, plan strategically, and work with all sorts of awesome clients and businesses. It seemed the most logical step was to do just that and set my schedule and workload around what worked best for me.

So, I’ve been adding new clients who need me to write their blog posts or send their newsletters or help them create a timeline or a process. I have my own LLC and created a simple website to sum it up. I get to decide the clients I take on and have to keep myself accountable for the work. I have continued to have clients coming in and have learned so much in the process. I feel this is exactly what I’m supposed to be doing right now.  

I won’t deny that it has been hard to know where to start or what to do at times. I took on a part-time job for quite awhile to make sure there were consistent paychecks coming in, and I have had to really consider what type of work I want to do. It has been a continual work in progress as I work through different projects and look forward to upcoming clients and assignments.

That is the long and short of it.

If you find yourself saying, “I love her writing, I should hire her!” then please go right ahead. We can talk more about specifics and see if it’s a fit. If you are worried that from now on I will be self-promoting my work in every post here from this point forward, then you are sorely mistaken. I think work and what we do each day is important, but I also think it’s a mere piece of who we are and what life is. I most certainly enjoy my work, but it isn’t all that I am…and I plan to keep it that way.

 

If Only We Were Robots

Samantha Gratton

Off in the Clouds by Steven Hrissis | Moving Peaces

Time would be measured by productivity if we were all robots. We could plow through all of the tasks and chores we have to do with no need to stop and eat or sleep. Distractions and hypothetical rabbit holes would have no place in the world. As robots, we could focus on whatever we were programmed to do.

Just think–if we were robots we could do all the things we now try and fail. There would be no such thing as a bad hair day or a bad boss. Nothing would stop us from achieving our goals, because we wouldn’t have the physical, mental, or emotional obstacles standing in our way. Doubt and fear couldn’t creep in and feelings of inadequacy wouldn’t win. There would be no putting your foot in your mouth or guilt from whatever mistake you made.

Some days, I just want to be a robot. To do everything just so and always know what to do. To work right on through my day, always checking off my to-do list. I want to never make mistakes and go after the things I was meant to do.

While this imaginary robot life might do everything right, it’s void of what makes life the wonderful thing that it is. Those moments where we struggle? That’s where the story comes in. The bad days, bad hair, and bad jobs give us something to relate about and support one another. The need to eat and sleep in turn give us reason to taste and an opportunity to dream. Distractions and thoughtful rabbit holes can lead to creativity, which brings beauty, art, and meaning into the world.

Lately I’ve poured myself into writing–writing for clients, writing for various publications, writing just for me. By the end of it, I’ve spent all of my energy writing down my thoughts and ideas with nothing left over. I look around and see a messy house, a list of to-dos long overdue, and every way that I have failed at something or with someone. I look back on my day and wonder where all the time went and why I can’t seem to get everything in order. So here I am, in the middle of the night, wishing I could be a robot. Thinking, if only I could press on through the night and skip sleep then maybe I could accomplish everything and stop disappointing people, myself included.

But we aren’t robots. 

And when it comes down to it, I don’t really want to be a robot. I want this life as a human…even with the pain and mistakes, because I know it also brings beauty and joy. We get to feel and experience life, hold each other’s hands, and find laughter and grace. That beats productivity any day.