Sunday, January 5, 2014

#500 word challenge Day 3: Procrastination as an art form

My worst trait as a writer I think is procrastination. That and always using the “While blah blah blah, this was happening” sentence structure. That is why I thought this #500 word challenge would be good for me. Something fun that keeps me on task and maybe something that could help break my procrastination habit.
That is why on the third---er fourth day---I am writing my third batch of 500 words.
At least I haven’t given up entirely.
I have read books, attended time management sessions, been coaxed, prodded, intimidated to try and improve my distain for the deadline– one editor told me that I expand the work to fill the deadline time, instead of just sitting down and doing it and having it done early. Another told me that I strive for perfection when it isn’t needed, and I need to just think “whatever gets done is good enough.” And one actually gave me a little paperweight for my desk that reads The ultimate motivation is the deadline. That was years ago and it still sits on my desk as a gentle but not so effective reminder. One book I read said you need to figure out WHY you procrastinate in order to fix the problem. It listed many different types of motivations, and I fit into at least three of them: ironically, my independent spirit (you’re not the boss of me) resents “being told” when to get things done, even when it is for my own good. So I worked on that, telling myself that what I wanted was to make the deadline and experience that good feeling of being on time. Things are much less chaotic when you aren’t working on overlapping deadlines.  Another was the perfection thing – afraid that what you are working on is not going to be perfect, so you never finish it. I do try to keep that in mind when on the day before deadline I think – hey, this would be an awesome thing to have in this article – but wait, I don’t have time. HATE that. That theory has helped me let go of huge chunks of copy and interviews instead of wrangling with it another day or so and trying to make it fit and missing a deadline. Sometimes, anyway. And of course in this world of texting, facebook and twitter, the book talked about shutting down those things and giving yourself x amount of time to just focus on the task. I find that wearing headphones – even when I am alone - and listening to my favorite music helps me with this. It anchors me both physically and emotionally. The wire of the headphones tethers me to my laptop and the music helps me zone out all other distractions except the words and task on my screen. And if you are working on something boring, or with a huge amount of text, I have found that breaking it down into smaller chunks helps – you’re not looking at this large mammoth thing that needs to be done yesterday – instead you just have 2 or 3 pages to complete at a time. Easy Peasy. That actually works well for me. Most of the time.
And then there are days like today, and yesterday, and the day before, when life just gets so big and noisy and disruptive that I have lost all focus and even when I “apply my ass to the seat” as Dorothy Parker says…I still can’t get anything done. And that’s when I remember what the authors of that procrastinaton book said in their preface: they were writing a book about procrastination, and they missed their first deadline by four months! They wrote, we’re not writing a book about procrastination because we don’t procrastinate, we are writing a book because we do! So here were two women who are successful – that book is in like its fourth reprint – but still procrastinators! That means that you can procrastinate and still be successful. Being a procrastinator does not make you a loser, or a bad person, or a lousy employee, or a no-good writer. It just makes you human. So on with the struggle!


Friday, January 3, 2014

#500 word challenge Day 2: Color My World

      There are lots of things that people know about me. I’m not a very private person and even before the advent of Facebook I shared too much information at will. Just without photos. Anyone who has known me for five minutes knows I like vodka martinis, have a gluten allergy, hate the cold, love animals, and hanging at local bars with friends on Sunday afternoons. But there is one thing that I bet not many people know about me. And that is that I like to color. Yeah, color. Not the crayon and Disney character on scratchy pages kind, but the needle sharp colored pencil and advanced color books type put out by Mindware and Brainiac. Complex, intricate designs that repeat themselves in a mosaic or geometric pattern, or hidden figures that emerge as I carefully choose each color and slide the end of the pencil back and forth over the particular segment I am coloring.
I find it so meditative, relaxing and creative. Since I have no drawing talent of my own, I enjoy creating colorful pictures without the struggle of creating the images as well. I like the focus of staying within the lines, pairing colors together or coordinating their juxtaposition, but at the same time, applying the color to the page, either with a light feather swipe to produce a whisper of pastel or a hard bearing, indent creating firm pressure that pinches the tips of your fingers to make harsh bold colors from the same pencil. When I was a kid, I don’t remember enjoying coloring. I remember being impatient about having to stay within the lines – yeah, I got reprimanded – and I was more interested in peeling off the paper of the crayons than creating pretty pictures. My coloring then was kind of crazy swirling tornados of color, with holidays and gaps in between and no consistency in the color from one stroke to the next.

Today, when I color, sometimes I intentionally try something weird or off, take a risk with my coloring that I wouldn’t have done as a kid. Like blue trees or brown flowers, or purple people. Or putting neon orange and green right next to each other – and a fuchsia pink, too. Wow – ugly but daring. And freeing. Because the results of the coloring doesn’t matter. It’s the journey now that I enjoy. A few stolen quiet moments of contemplation that don’t have any right or wrong or disastrous implications or consequences. A break in the day of deadlines, responsibilities, and hard thinking. Just me and my colored pencils, my sharpener and my book. My private time. My peace.

Thursday, January 2, 2014

What really matters


What really matters

No matter how much you love her, you do not want to brush your teeth after your 90-year-old mom has put her dentures to rest. No. Seriously. I live with my mom a few months of the year, and she is a wonder, a champ, an idol. She shovels snow, splits wood, climbs ladders, and stairs, and decorates at least 10 trees for Christmas in her nearly 200-year-old farmhouse. She keeps a wood stove going, cans vegetables that she grows in her own garden, mows her own lawn on a riding tractor, splits her own wood and still drives her garbage to the landfill. She survives colon cancer surgery like it was a manicure. She is an independent, strong willed and strong-bodied Yankee, to be admired for her longevity, wisdom, and resilience. But at 90, you don’t pay much attention to what you leave behind in your white porcelain sink, probably because you don’t really see it, and rinsing your dentures and placing them in their plastic chopper bin with a tablet of Polident is rote. Who thinks of that after 30 plus years? Not my mother. Sort of how she no longer finds it necessary to clean the litter box daily, or vacuum the upstairs hallway often, or wipe off the table or counter. So what if she leaves She can still make a mean jar of pickles, grow the best lilacs and irises, and stoic – she is the very best at stoicism.  I love her dearly, but brushing my teeth in the upstairs bathroom after she has put herself to bed—it’s not pretty. It takes a strong stomach, and a willingness to let things go (like chunks of unidentifiable food around the chrome drain).  I’m sure it’s a bit like being 90 – you begin to worry only about the things that matter. Being happy, being sure of yourself, living your life the way you wish. Like loving the woman who gave birth to you, focusing on her strengths, and ignoring the things that don’t matter. After all, that’s what paper towels are for, right? But I might recommend, on certain occasions, closing your eyes to the obvious, and focusing more on the important things.