When Giving Up Is Productive

By Peter Nevland - Jul 15 , 2009

“Cool. I got no idea what I’m going to write. I’ll meet you there.”

I got on my bike and headed over to meet my friend Matt to play some pool and talk about his recent trip to Indonesia. I’d been struggling all week trying to figure out what to write for my weekly article. I needed a break, and listening to Matt’s stories about setting up health clinics on tropical islands seemed like a good escape from my stopped-up thoughts. But things didn’t go quite as I thought they would.

As I pulled my bike down my porch steps, my phone reminder went off. “Oh, crap! I’ve got to go pick up Paul from the airport!” “My car’s in the shop overnight.” “My roommates aren’t home, so I can’t borrow either of their cars!” “What am I going to do?”

Expecting other people to forgive my mistakes isn’t something my brain normally does. I have a feeling that most of us give more grace to other people than ourselves, and I’m no exception. I’d toured around the world for 6 years with Paul Finley. Arguments we’d had in the past about me not being ready on time flashed through my mind. We’d just found resolution in our relationship a couple months before, and I didn’t want to screw all that up. I called Matt back as I started out toward him on my bike, hoping that I could borrow his truck.

“Well, I’d love to help you, but I’m not in my truck. I’m with my brother, and his truck wouldn’t fit all of us.”

“You don’t think he’d be willing to let me borrow his truck to go pick up Paul and bring it back, since he lives so close, do you?”

“Let me ask. I’ll get back to you in a minute.”

I biked up to the Black Sheep Lodge, where Matt and his brother were going to hang out. When I got there I noticed that I had missed a call from Paul Finley. My head sank. I felt like a terd. I’d promised to pick Paul up from the airport, and I couldn’t do it. The only thing left to do was to call him and tell him my predicament.

Sometimes you have to give up. Sometimes there’s nothing you can do but put yourself at the mercy of others, trust that the idea for writing will come to you while your mind’s preoccupied with something else, wait for the promotional seeds you’ve planted with agents, publishers, and buyers to ripen and cause them to contact you. It’s true in relationships with people, and it’s true in your efforts to write and promote your work.

“Hey,” Paul answered the phone with his Wisconsin accent.

“Hi, Paul, I made a mistake. When I said that I could pick you up from the airport tonight I forgot that I had made an appointment to take my car into the mechanic this morning. They thought it would be done this afternoon, but it turned out it’s still there tonight. I didn’t remember that I was supposed to pick you up until the phone reminder I set went off a few minutes ago. I’m really sorry. I’m trying to see if I can borrow Matt’s brother’s truck to come get you, but I’m waiting on them.” Paul didn’t wait too long to speak, but I held my breath.

“That’s okay,” he said. “Mechanics are like that sometimes.”

I exhaled a sigh of relief. “Hey, I think that’s them calling back. Hold on…”

Matt let me know that his brother didn’t feel comfortable loaning out his truck. I understood and called Paul back. We decided to call a couple people and try to find a ride for him. I called my roommate, EJ, to see where he was. While on the phone with him, Paul called back.

“I found a ride,” he said.

“Man, I’m really relieved. Sorry again. I was really lookin’ forward to hanging out with you and catching up. We should get lunch or something soon. Hey, I tell you what, you just figure out your schedule and let me know when we can hang out. Dinner or lunch is on me.”

“Hey, that sounds great. Don’t worry about not pickin’ me up. These things happen.”

We talked some more and made some jokes. Paul really wasn’t angry, and everything had worked out. We’ll get some time to hang out soon. I hung up the phone, relieved.

I called my roommates back to tell them that I didn’t need to borrow one of their cars. They decided to come up and meet me, Matt, & his brother at the Black Sheep Lodge. My roommates and I had some stuff to talk about, and that night was the only time in the next couple of days that we would have. Our conversation reminded me once again that I can’t say all the right things and guarantee that people will do what I want them to.

By the time I finished with my roommates, it was closing time. Matt, his brother, and I got in one, quick game of Cutthroat on the pool table before having to leave. He didn’t get a chance to tell me his stories about Indonesia. We made plans to hang out again soon. And right then, a light went off in my head.

I need to write about letting go, about putting in the work that I need to do and then letting it and the people I’m depending on grow on their own. This has happened to me so many times where I’ve given up trying to figure out a problem, what to write or how to get someone to book me, and once I go on to something else, the solution or the reply call comes without me straining and struggling to figure it out. Giving up is me putting a seed in the ground, covering it up, and trusting that a little green sprout will push its head through the soil, delighting my eyes with its life.

“He who observes the wind will not sow.
And he who regards the clouds will not reap.
As you do not know what is the way of the wind,
Or how the bones grow in the womb of her who is with child,
So you do not know the works of God who makes everything.
In the morning sow your seed,
And in the evening do not withhold your hand;
For you do not know which will prosper,
Either this or that,
Or whether both alike will be good.”
—–Ecclesiastes 11:4-6