The Hazards of the Unforeseen

I'd ask whether life has ever handed you something you did not expect, but it would be a stupid question. Unless you are Nostradamus, it's happened today... or at least this week. My life is filled with the unexpected.

Right now my existence is permeated with it. I had eye surgery, which, unexpectedly to me but not to the eye doctor, it seems, meant I could drive in a week but would have to read large print EVERYTHING for the next 4-6 months.

My kids, only one month into school, have proven they cannot properly handle their classes without my constant nagging and looking over their shoulder. So they are behind. Again. And I have to refocus them ALL DAY to help them get caught back up.

My house is in need of its final overhaul, remodeling the last remaining ugliness. Unfortunately, that involves ripping down wallpaper and refinishing spots on the wood floor. The wallpaper alone has been a beast--the dining room alone took me FIVE DAYS to tackle.

I could whine more, but I won't. I just use these unexpected events as an excuse most of the time. An excuse not to write.

Not productive, I know. You don't have to tell me. Just as I don't have to remind you about all the unforeseen hiccups in your life. So, my vision still a bit blurry, I rip down wallpaper until my fingernails disappear, spackle, stretch my aching shoulders, and wait for NaNoWriMo.

Yet my hope is unchanged. I WILL get this remodeling done. I WILL see fine within the next few months (already I can write this without enlarging it on the screen, and that is GREAT news!). I WILL find a way to make sure my kids stay caught up AND still have time for my own pursuits. I WILL get my priorities back the way I want them, and not the way I have to place them for now.

This will pass. This is temporary. I WILL start my agent search very soon...

As soon as I get the last of this damn wallpaper down.

Why am I Playing this Retarded Game?

The job awaits
Two more ghost writes
Before I am finished

But I am putt-putt golfing, creating rainbows
For no apparent reason.

My novels whisper to me
Yanking at my hair
Even as I sleep

Yet I insist on tossing colored balls
Around this stupid screen.

My painting--still unfinished--
Lies winking at me
Dried long since

While I make ice cream sundaes
For impatient customers.

Tell me that you do not understand.
Call me retarded, and you'll be more than right.
Urge me to put the time wasters down
To turn the television off
And return to the life I know is mine.

Perhaps I'll listen to you
For once
As soon as I can finish this Sudoku...

Assessment

I used to hate this word. In the academic world, at least to college teachers, it means an examination of what we do to see how effectively (or ineffectively) it furthers a student's learning and development. And it's hard to gauge, complicated, and sometimes makes us a bit defensive. (What do you mean my students knew less at the end of the semester than at the beginning?)

With a short article from Writer's Digest, however, I have realized that it's way past time for a self-assessment of my writing habits. WAY past time. I've known so many writers who have very particular habits--a certain place to write, certain snacks, the best time of the day to write, etc.

My habits have always been pretty specific, too:

1. I write reclined in my wingback chair, laptop on my, well, lap.

2. I tackle a short online game before I start writing, to clear my head.

3. I write only during the day, not in the evening (unless I'm up at 2 a.m.).

4. I sit on my books for months, working on other projects until I finally get back to them.

5. I work on only one project at a time.

6. I put my writing last, after dishes, laundry, cleaning out the cat box, decorating for Christmas, cooking dinner--okay, pretty much everything. (I'm a bit like Cinderella, telling myself I can write IF I get all my work done, and IF I find a suitable dress to wear...)

So, what's wrong with all this, besides the obvious travesty in #6?

It isn't that anything is wrong. But the WD article suggested looking at my habits carefully to see how well they work, honing those I want to keep, and tossing or changing the ones that inhibit my productivity. And since I'm planning on signing up to be a school substitute in January, I have some definite reassessing to do.

Here are the questions I need to ask myself before then:

1. Is reclining the best way to tackle this? What about sitting at my writing desk, or even standing (it's better for circulation, and I've done it a little recently, with good results). Don't my legs start cramping if I write more than an hour at a time? Might another position help me be more productive AND healthier?

2. How much does online gaming get in the way of writing? Should I restrict my games to the fast ones? Doesn't Dragon Mahjong, for instance, sometimes delay me for half an hour, since I want to play until I actually win a game? How much time every day do I waste on this crap?

3. WHY do I only write during the day? So that I can stare at the football my husband is watching? Is television ever worth it, besides Grimm and Once Upon a Time? I already know the answer to this. I find most television mind-numbing or outright irritating... so why not write while the hubby is getting his TV fix? What is it I'm sacrificing my time for?

4. How effective is it to sit on my books for so long? What's the ideal time for stepping back to gain perspective? This one might be the most effective habit for me as it stands, actually. I reread my Death By Chocolate story, attempting to revise it, but it seems as if 1 1/2 months is not enough time for me to gain perspective. I added some detail, yes, but I didn't make the substantial changes to it that are probably needed. Lucy (hopefully) will see the holes and be honest enough to slash through them without mercy. I find that time is absolutely necessary for me, or I end up with three revisions of a work that don't even add up to a good edit. I know most writers are different from me in this, but it doesn't matter. I have to make sure that what I do works best for me.

5. I am too scatter-brained to work on two novels simultaneously, but my gut feeling with this work-on-only-one-project-at-a-time mentality isn't helping me be productive. I so want to finish a project that I slog through it even when it's utter crap, when it might serve me better to switch to something that could work better. Then again, I know two many friends who have five unfinished novels. This one might just have to stay as is. I have to think it through--perhaps try out a new habit or two--and experiment to see what works best.

6. Putting my writing at the bottom of my TO-DO list absolutely must change. Self-sacrifice cuts into my creativity more than everything else, and I need to at least fit in writing a little bit every single day. I've had "rewrite query" on my TO-DO list for two weeks now, and I know that today it won't happen. Will it happen tomorrow? I need to figure out why I believe my writing activity is not worth my time, and I need to find a way to show myself that it isn't a waste, that it deserves my devotion (and I deserve the time to write).

Wow, this entry turned out really long, and it probably bored the snot out of you, but if I can put these questions to myself, I might end up with a more productive 2012 than I would have otherwise... and maybe I'll be on a truer path to establishing my career as a writer.

So, what about all of you? Any habits you have that need a bit of assessment?

Self-Pep-Talk

Don't like the way you look? Think your stomach is flabby? Don't like pinching yourself into your jeans every morning? Well, DO something about it. Eat right, exercise, and get yourself in shape. Or buy bigger jeans. Problem solved.

Don't like that your novel isn't finished? You know the answer to this one: WORK on it. It won't get done if you spend the day watching infomercials, sweeping, playing games, or whining to nine friends on Facebook that it isn't done yet. For God's sake, write!

When you don't like the way you smell, you take a shower. When you're hungry, you get something to eat. You pay bills on time, you wash the dishes when they fill the sink. You get the kids to bed when it's time. You do daily stuff like clockwork. You handle all sorts of crappy little chores beautifully, checking them off your list one by one almost as fast as you can write them. Sure, some of your problems may take a bit more work, but that's just it--they take WORK.

So quit your whining, self, and get out there and do the work. You have time. You got the whole day. And tomorrow--don't forget you have tomorrow, too. Get it done.

My Favorite Day

I bet y'all thought today must be my birthday! You know it isn't Christmas, nor is it (American) Thanksgiving. No gifts will be exchanged, no parties planned, no cakes made (thank goodness!).

No, it's just my favorite day in the world, the one day of the year I get an extra hour to work on stuff. I've said about a million times before (on this very blog) that I wish I had a Timeturner (and if you don't know what that is, you need to read the Harry Potter books--or at least the third one). This is the one day when time is turned back for me.

Sure, it's only one hour. But that hour is one of the most precious things I have to use, and I have so much I can do with that one hour:

1. Read more to my kids.

2. Give them their piano lessons this week (unlike last week).

3. Go to zumba.

4. Write my day's installment of my NaNo novel.

5. Assess the 101 essays (okay, this will likely take two hours--but I can get half of it done).

6. Revise 3-4 pages of my Thomas novel.

7. Make and enjoy a gourmet, made-from-scratch dinner or cheesecake.

8. Cut out a dress or blouse to sew.

9. Finish reading The City of Ember.

10. Go through my daughter's clothing (or son's clothing, or my own clothing).

I have a much longer list of possibilities, but these are the most likely. What will you do with this blessed extra hour? Sleep? Whine? Watch the boob tube? Don't do that! Make the hour count for something!

Now I'm all done bossing. I don't want to waste anymore time, for that extra hour is awaiting me, needing all my energy and drive. Make your own hour count! I know I will!

Wasting Time

I took off for my playwriting rehearsal this afternoon, looking forward to centering myself a little around writing and theatre. I reached the theatre ahead of time, pulled out a book to read until everyone else arrived, and waited. 

No one came. I'm still not sure when the rehearsal was supposed to be (I was told 2 p.m.), but since I live nearly an hour from the theatre (and am now home, after waiting there for over half an hour), I won't be driving back for the staged reading tonight. In fact, with all the driving, I spent about 2 1/2 hours--no, wasted 2 1/2 hours--doing absolutely nothing. 

I cannot express how frustrated I am at this moment--although the impact of it is already beginning to fade--frustrated enough to question my involvement in what is otherwise a fantastic playwriting group. They are one of the best writing groups of any kind I've found over the years, and I'm lucky to be involved with them. Really.

But I hate wasting time. And gas. In those 2 1/2 hours I could have read another most of my best friend Cherilyn's novel. I could have finished Susan Cooper's fifth of five books Silver on the Tree. I could have finished Crystal's painting for her room. 

Then again, not going to the performance tonight has freed up quite a bit of time, too. Sure, I'll miss what is likely to be a fine reading, but perhaps I'll get to all those other things, and more.

See, all it takes is a bit of a perspective shift to end my whining. I'm off to read/edit/paint/etc. Hope you're making the fun use of your time, too!

The Voice of God?

Yesterday's blog was full of promises... I was going to redirect my energies towards a certain piece of writing, use what time I had to do something real with my talents... 

But then the day happened, and when the sun had set, and I looked back on it, I hadn't written anything except my blog. That made me wonder. If I had a gift but never used it, would it be taken from me? I imagined God, looking down at me, at my wasted day, filled with nothing but chores. He looked back over the last month, where I'd accomplished pretty much nothing of note at all... and he decided he'd had enough.

"Cheryl," he intoned down to me, his voice resonating, "you've been a bad little girl."

"Yes, God." (What was I supposed to do, deny it? He was right.)

"Since you can't seem to make any time to write, I've decided to take your talent from you."

"No, please," I'd beg. "I don't paint much, either, but when it do it turns out pretty good still."

God thinks that one over. "Maybe I should take that one away, too."

"Please, no!" I whine. "All I'll have is my piano and my sewing."

"But you haven't done enough with those either. Or that theatre thing you do."

"But--"

"Now, no arguing. You know you don't deserve any of it."

And I don't. I don't have a comeback for that one. I just rub my toe into the dirt, dejected.

"Okay, now, don't cry," God says. "I'll let you have them a while longer. But do something with them, okay?" Sounds just like me begging my son to behave for once at preschool. Does God know he's likely to reap the same level of effort from me as I do from my son? Surely, if he is real, God knows this already.

I nod, hoping I can make the next few years different from the last few. I hope I can write more, write every day, write stuff that's really worthwhile, ignore the online games, get the chores done faster so that I have more time for what's really important, and not fritter away what little time I have on useless, stupid things. 

I hope, I hope, I hope. Will I change, though? Only time will tell. If you have any advice for how I can do this better, I'd love to hear it.