Gauthic Times: The Bill Gauthier Newsletter #137, or Grace to Start

Hello, friends!

I’ll be writing a little more about this past week in today’s essay but suffice it to say it kicked my ass. I came home aching and exhausted every day. Only about 178 days of the school year left. I hope I can make it.

Welcome to the 137th installment of Gauthic Times, the newsletter about my writing, my life, and giving oneself grace to continue. If you’re a reader who subscribes via Substack, my website, or Patreon, your encouragement helps motivate me. I’m not breaking any records but I’m thankful to have any audience.

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As I’ve written below in today’s essay, I didn’t really do any writing work this week. I added about 200 words to Project: Moons on Saturday night, after I worked on last week’s newsletter, and that was about it. I worked a little on lesson plans but mainly just tried to keep my head above water and sleep when I could, which was often because of exhaustion.

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This past week was my first full week of the 2025-2026 school year. I believe this is my 19^th year teaching. Well, 19^th year in education. My first year was as a teaching assistant. Either way, it’s about 14 years longer than I thought I’d do this when I started. This week was a lot. As such, I came home and crashed, exhausted, every day. No writing got done. A part of me feels bad. Most of me has been okay because I have decided to give myself grace, something I rarely do.

The 2024-2025 school year was another rough year. I haven’t felt like the year has been good since probably around 2017-2018. Between personal losses, global pandemics, seeing the world become uglier, and everything else, it’s been a ride. I’ve written about how students are coming into high school but they aren’t behaving as high school students anymore. I’ve written about the disrespect the teaching profession has among many. All that still applies. This past week had some really good moments. It wasn’t all bad; I must say that because it’s true. It was actually mostly good.

But it was a lot. Exhausting.

I have had dreams about work every single time I sleep for the past week. Stress-related dreams that are sometimes too close to the mark. Every morning I’ve woken up anxious about what the day will be. And why wouldn’t I? My classroom still isn’t 100% set up. I’ve taught around 46 students this week in a classroom that still needs to be finished. There’s a part of me that feels like I should be there right now, on Saturday afternoon at 1 p.m. instead of sitting on my patio, my MacBook on a lap desk, and writing this essay for tomorrow’s newsletter. But I’m giving myself grace.

The grace thing is new. Every day I came home from work and wanted to write. I signed a contract for a new novel last week and haven’t looked at the edits to get back to the publisher since last Sunday. I haven’t edited/revised the adult horror novel I’m working on a 3^rd draft to since last weekend. I also haven’t sat down to write the first draft of another book I worked on all summer. The only times I actually sat at my desk this week was to work on lesson plans on Monday night and pay bills because this was a pay week.

Until now. I decided to take advantage of the 70ºF temperature and beautiful day to work outside. No pressure. I need to be kind to myself because the world sure as hell won’t be. I know that the exhaustion will pass as I get back into the groove of being Mr. Gauthier for the ‘25/’26 year, which will be a different job than I did last year, which itself was different than what I’d done the year before. I’m no good to anyone if I burn out before the school year really takes off.

In the past, I may have been worried about taking a week off from writing. I’m not. The stories are still there. All I have to do is lift the sheet and there they are. The projects I’ve referred to in the newsletter as Project: Monster, Project: Amusement Park, and Project: Moons are all right there. The title of Project: Monster will officially be revealed real soon since it’s the book I just signed a contract for.

The stories are still there and they still live, eager to be told and read/heard. That’s great because I can’t wait to tell those stories. By giving myself grace, I will be able to tell them well.

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