"C" Is For Catching Up And Character

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I could be more original than using "catching up" as this post's contribution to the letter "C," but  I'm awfully busy catching up and that saps energy.  In my little world, sapped energy always eats a bowl of creativity for breakfast, leaving me with dumb stuff like "C" is for Catching Up.  It sends me racing away with nothing but the finish line in mind, turning everything else into a formless blur.  There's important stuff in the blur that's missed, and that's not good.

The key for leaving the dreaded sport of Catching Up behind is staying organized, focused, aware, and disciplined.

Let's look at these above mentioned character actions as they apply to writing.

• Organization.  Every writer needs some sort of organization in their writing life if they're going to have any success with words, unless they're content forever spinning in place. Many are, it's a hobby or an abstract idea that sounds good but ends up too hard putting into practice.  That's not enough for me.  Organization really is easy, yet books keep blossoming about the art and craft of getting your stuff together.  I've read them all and ended up with a tangled mess of conflicting theories and practices in my head.  Years ago, in one of Tony Robbins's tapes, he stated that the human mind is only capable of thinking in terms of one, two, three, many.  Stay away from many, and the rest is fairly easy.  That's the anchor I use.  Here's a small example of how I keep things down to three things in my head at any given time.

• Morning.  
• Spike the day's writing task (determined the night before) by firing up the computer and opening software and files relating to that task.
• Walk the dogs.  This removes all worries about them relieving themselves on the carpet or driving me nuts because they haven't had exercise.  It also gives my mind free time away from the writing task, letting my Smarter Me play with the day's work and how to best meet my goals.  I also get a whiff of fresh air and blood circulating to my brain.
• Feed the dogs.  Again, it takes care of the animals that mean a lot to me, erasing any guilt of ignoring them for the sake of my craft, as well as giving me more time for relaxing and just enjoying their company--it feeds my soul. 

That's it.  My day is off to a great start, and it continues clipping along because I'm organized,      keeping everything reduced to no more than three things in my head at any one time.  Of course there's a lot more to be done during the day, but I keep on slicing the day into sections, such as mid-morning, lunch break, early afternoon, four o'clock slump and so on, determining which three tasks pertaining to life, art, and love are exercised, relaxed, and addressed in each chunk.  Notice I feature "relaxed" as a necessary part of every day.  If I'm not relaxed, I'm blocked.  I go for it every chance I can throughout the day.  And I don't let this streamlined system of organization turn into micro-management and a straightjacket because I never stop working on:

• Focus.  A long time ago I realized nobody leaves this life without regrets, so it's best to choose our regrets wisely.  I've had to chose on which I'd regret more--saying goodbye to a bunch of stuff that's become clutter, or a living a life of clean, bold lines.  I chose clean, bold lines, and this is reflected in everything from my wardrobe to my home decor and my computer filing system.  Some people work well in the midst of clutter.  I don't, so I took action.  It wasn't easy, it's taken years to accomplish, but it's been worth it because I can focus on what's important.  Again, I've whittled down what's important in my life to just three things, which I call driving forces.  They are:

1. Family
2. Writing
3. Physical and mental stimulation

• Because I know my driving forces, it's less difficult avoiding the trap of micromanagement. I can let my days flow with a "mind like water."  If a mini-chunk of the day clashes with focus on any of my three driving forces, it gets the boot.  I don't need it (despite what the pretty commercials tell me), I'm the boss of me, so out it goes.  I also practice focus as much as possible in every thing I do.  For instance, I just took a break from writing this because I was feeling tense and pressured.  That's not focus, that's grunting grunt work, so my morning coffee and I went outside to my beautiful Southern country backyard to "become one with each other." All thoughts of this writing were released as I tuned in to that little piece of paradise I have outside my back door, first taking in the feel of the breeze on my skin, then breathing deep and noticing the smell of the wet grass and trees, and continuing on in this manner until all of my senses where in one place at the same time.  Focus isn't a teeth-bared act of will, it's a release into the moment.  There's nothing better.  Nothing more simple and full of pleasure.  And all of this is made possible because of:

• Awareness.  Gut feelings.  Pay attention.  Nobody is smarter than the human mind-body, and only a fool doesn't spend time learning its language.  For a long time I couldn't buckle down with my writing, so I spent hundreds of hours reading everything I could about fear of failure, fear of success, writers block, and every other thing related to writers not writing.  I kept reading until a tipping point had been reached, and for me that point was still not writing.  I'd filled myself up with the words and wisdom of others, but I hadn't cultivated anything that came from the language of my own body, my own mind. Would you believe my avoidance of writing was as simple as a pesky bad back?  It was. When I listened to my body, felt the knot in my stomach as I approached a day of writing, I felt that stomach knot extend all the way into my spine and heard it saying, "No, please, don't make me do it. You get so caught up in your writing that you ignore me and I hurt.  I hurt a lot.  And I get mad so I make it difficult for you to sleep, and if you think that's bad, just wait and see what I've got planned for your sex life!"  I now sit in a different chair in a different place when I write, and I keep a cheapie kitchen timer set for 45 minutes so I'll get up and stretch my back.  I'm now writing more than I ever have and finding it easier to stay focused on that writing so it amounts to something and not just a tangle of words.

And here we are with the last character trait a writer needs:  Discipline.  But you know what?  I'm giving that one the boot for the day (I'm giving lots of stuff the boot lately).  In fact, I may never dally with it again.  It's important, but in putting my thoughts in order through the practice of writing for this challenge, I think it's best to leave this one alone for a time and let it stew.  There's a conversation going on between my body and mind about discipline, and I'd like to hear/feel/taste/touch what's being said in that communication.  I'm familiar with the stirrings of a riddle coming undone in my mind, and I'm going with the feeling.

My gut tells me I've already written out my prescription for discipline in the character traits of organization, focus, and attention.  Or maybe discipline is one more than three, and three is all I can handle with competence at a time.  

Whatever it is, I'm focused and aware enough to know when it's time to stop, and this is the time. 

Starting Again With "B" Is For Belated Beginnings

I'm going to trust that the blog post I wrote and lost was a stinker and the cosmos saved me from myself.  Yeah, that sounds like a great way of easing the frustration of staying up late and writing an entirely new post so my first day of this challenge won't be wimpy. 

So here goes.

"B" is for Belated Beginnings.  On the small stuff in life, I'm never late.  In fact, I've always considered myself neurotically punctual.  Too bad there's no such thing as "neurotic" these days due to everything being changed around and re-categorized as a disorder of some kind.  I'm rarely late, but I do have a terrible time finishing things, probably because I'm always in such a dither making I'm sure I'm early getting to whatever I've got going at the time, or starting something new I've so I can get in on a good thing while it's still (wait for it) early.  Last time I checked, TPTB hadn't yet stamped a disorder on people who are always early but never leave, as in finishing things and making an exit.  Having slipped through the cracks of contemporary psychology, I stand with those who are simply peculiar. I like that.

And I like that neither my husband nor I are afraid of taking risks, like the one we started after being married just a few years and we left behind familiar territory (Los Angeles) for the sake of  Big Dreams. Our aim was New York City, with several planned stops along the way to make money, build a network (formerly known as friends and connections), and spend time with family.  Our first stop was Las Vegas, back before it exploded and became the fastest growing city of the Twentieth Century.  We had planned on staying there two years before the next leg of the journey, but somehow or another we ended up staying longer.

We stayed for thirty years. Yeah.  Thirty.  Years.

And that's what's called Another Story For Another Day.  Right now I've got to get us down South to Arkansas and the beginning of an adventure neither one of us ever thought we'd take.

Adventure?  This isn't an adventure, it's a major shock to the system!  It's a new beginning (called a belated beginning for the sake of sticking with the "b") because we have to learn just about every blessed thing all over again.  And I'm talking about everything from the small stuff of putting coasters under our beverages because humidity makes a cold glass sweat, all the way to re-thinking and re-inventing our faith as it's lived and practiced down here in the Bible Belt.  It's been maximum culture shock, and right here in our own country with our fellow Americans. 

Okay, that's enough.  I've gotten us down to the South, which is what I'm going to write about, so I'm going to consider that part finished (and the crowd roared for the girl who's always early but never finishes as she finishes, in one hasty blog post, getting to the point of the blog) and move on to the real reason why I'm taking on this challenge.

I'm a writer.  It's not what I do, I just am one.  Always have been.  Quite a few years ago I was making good progress on my way to writing in such a way that others would notice--won some big contests, had an agent, ran with other writers, was managing editor of a university cultural arts magazine, and other stuff like that--but I quit.  Didn't finish.  There's a reason for me quitting, but it's irrational and sounds like an excuse, which it probably is, so I'm not going to bother with any of that right now.  I'm just going to stick with forgetting what was and consider I'm making a belated beginning at writing.  Doing it.  Actually writing, just like a real writer does.

I've been tinkering with this and that sort of writing since we got down here and I couldn't find a job, but the thing I keep coming back to is this experience of shifting from being a big city woman to a Southern country girl, so this is what I'm going to write about...when I'm not moved to write about writing. And this "A To Z Blogging Challenge" is the perfect way for me to bust my writing chops after too much time thinking rather than doing. I'm sure there will be plenty of fumbling ahead as I get myself organized and figure out blogging  here on Blogger, and I get a stomachache if I think of the rotten writing I'll dish out along the way, but this is my second chance at a belated beginning, and I'm taking it. 

Why the heck not.  The only thing I've got to lose is a bucket of excuses, a whole bunch of mistakes that need to be made, and possibly a few friends because I intend to tell it as I see it.  As the master Kurt Vonnegut said:

And so it goes.

Happy blogging to all, and to all a good night.