Category: Setting Goals

Because Virginia Woolf Said So

Halfway through clean up

“A woman must have money and a room of her own if she is to write fiction.”                 ~Virginia Woolf

Years ago when we moved from the city to this bigger house in the suburbs, I appropriated one room for myself. It was to be an office space, although I had no idea what I needed an office for because I didn’t have a paying job. Over the nearly ten years we’ve been at this address, my office has moved locations three times. It has been situated for the last six or so years down the hall from our bedroom in the smallest room in the house. It’s located over the garage. It’s freezing in the winter (like “use a space heater or wear mittens” freezing) and ungodly hot in the summer. But, it has a cute little window seat that I made a cushion for, a full-size closet I can cram all sorts of stuff in, and eastern exposure sunlight, which makes it bright and cheerful in the morning.

The first thing I did when I moved my crafting supplies into that space was to have hubby install a keyed doorknob. I planned to keep the boys from pouring permanent ink onto the floor, super gluing themselves to something, or ending up in the emergency room after messing with one of my sharp, paper-cutting implements. There was something so awesome about having a space I could lock up and keep private too. It was my own little oasis. That was the plan, anyway. Instead, what happened is that my private room became a catch-all for the kids’ school artwork, printed photos, birthday and holiday gifts that needed to be stored and then wrapped, and packing/shipping supplies. During the holidays, the room gets trashed by my whirling dervish behavior. Between the holiday cards, the gift wrapping, the treats for neighbors and teachers, and the scrapbooks I give as gifts, I find I can no longer even walk in there by December 25th.

So, I lock the door and ignore it…for about four months. Sometime in April, I cautiously peer in there to remind myself what I’m up against. Then, I quickly close the door and lock it again. Sometime in May I remember I am soon going to need a hiding place when school lets out for summer, and I begin the dreaded clean up process I’ve been avoiding. Today, though, as I began the cleanliness assault on my space, I was honestly excited about it because I’m not just cleaning up my crafting mess. I’m setting up my writing space too. I’m giving myself a room of my own, just like Virginia Woolf told me to, so I can write this work of fiction that is bubbling in my brain.

My office always had two desks. One was to be for crafting and the other was to house my laptop. I’ve never actually used the space that way, though, because the writing desk has been perpetually littered with, well…for lack of a better word…crap. Not anymore. Today I am turning over a new leaf. My writing desk will be for writing. I’m setting up files for my research and notes. I’m putting up my favorite inspirational quotes. I’ve dusted off my hardcover dictionary and thesaurus. I’ve hung my college diplomas to remind myself that I’m plenty capable of this. I’m ready to kick some creative ass. I’ve got a little money. I’ve got a room of my own. I’ve got some inspiration. What else could I possibly need?

I’m thinking wine fridge. I bet there has been some research done that shows that wine helps the creative process. And, chocolate too. It might be a good idea to toss a little chocolate in my wine fridge. I’m certain those two things will improve my creativity. I think I’m finally going to get a handle on the perfect office for me. And, I’d bet cash money that Virginia would approve.

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Unstuck At Last

It’s always darkest before the dawn.

“Everything in life is writable about if you have the outgoing guts to do it, and the imagination to improvise. The worst enemy to creativity is self-doubt.” ~Sylvia Plath

A couple years ago, I had a flash about a story I might like to tell. I just could not figure out how to do it. What person should I use to tell it? Should I tell both points of view or just one? How could I tell the story of a lifetime in bits an pieces and still tie it all together? How far would the characters go? How would it all work out? I became trapped in the quagmire of questions. I could not get unstuck.

So, I made some notes, tossed the idea on the back burner, and waited for the rest of the inspiration to come to me. I waited two years. It did not come. This weekend away from my family, I knew I would have time to revisit this with a clear head and no obligations. Late Friday afternoon before meeting a friend, I pulled out the laptop and resurrected my notes. I thought they might look different to me after all this time, so I looked at them. Actually, I stared at them until I went cross-eyed. Nothing. I could not stop over thinking the logistics of the story I had already mapped out in my head. They were killing me. I gave up, closed the laptop, and went out with my friend.

Then, an incredible thing happened. After a couple Moscow Mules, I began to get unstuck. My brain opened up and started entertaining possibilities instead of stopping at road blocks. The ideas started to flow. I spent most of yesterday thinking about the conversations that had happened the night before to jumpstart the creativity.  And today, with nine uninterrupted hours in the car driving home from Utah, I brainstormed. I got out my iPhone and took voice memos. When I stopped, I took notes. Suddenly, I felt confident that I could say what I needed to say. What had bogged me down, it turns out, was a lack of imagination. With my background in professional and technical writing, I’ve not traditionally been allowed to change details or move a story around. But, I’m not that person anymore. I’m free of those fetters. It’s my story. A fiction story. I can make up whatever I want. 

I’m certain there will be other things that will stop me in my tracks throughout this process, but after this minor  breakthrough I feel I can handle any additional challenges with a different perspective. If I get stuck again, I will go back to my muse for inspiration. And, if that fails, I’m heading to a bar because I think another couple Moscow Mules might fix me right up.

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Digging Deep

Oh...I really had to dig deep this morning.

“You’ve got to get up every morning with determination if you’re going to go to bed with satisfaction.”             ~George Lorimer

I’ve had this rotten cold sucking the life out of me for days now. Most people hate to be sick. I know this. But, I think my hatred of being sick goes beyond that of a “normal” person’s hatred of being sick. When I feel a cold coming on, I immediately give my body a good talking to. Oh no you don’t. You are not going to get sick. You’re not. End of story. This, of course, does not work. My body does not care what I have to say. If it listened to anything I had to say, I wouldn’t have stopped growing until I was 5’9″ tall, 135 pounds, and 34C. Did. Not. Happen.

Once I succumb to illness, I go to my back up plan. Realizing that my body is not listening to me, I serve a mandatory eviction notice to the cold itself. It has just seven days to reside here. No grace period. I figure I’m being fairly generous to those foreign invaders. They have two days to set up shop and get me good and sick, two days for debauchery and mayhem, and three days to pack themselves up, clean up their mess, and get out.

In preparation for the MS150 in June, I’ve spent the past 6 weeks getting myself back into a steady cardio workout routine after a winter of doing not much. It takes a while to build the habit of working out six days a week without fail, so the arrival of this wretched cold this week was certain to derail all my hard work. Colds have always managed to mess my training up. Why? Because a cold offers me an excuse to be lazy and rest. I am free to sit on the couch watching my favorite show du jour (currently that means back episodes of Friday Night Lights because I have a massive crush on Tim Riggins). I knew I would have to dig deep this week to stay on track. I mean center of the earth deep. But, I did it. 15 miles on the trainer on Tuesday, an hour of hot yoga on Wednesday, 13 miles on the trainer yesterday, and today I somehow managed to get myself to Red Rocks to climb stairs. And, you know what? I did climb stairs. I worked it out. It took me longer than usual, but I completed my usual circuit of stair climbing there. I powered through.

I’m proud of myself. This week, for the first time ever, I fought the urge to use my cold as a free pass out of exercise. As the cold germs partied on while I was exercising, I put my fingers in my ears and sang “lalalalalalalalalala” to block out its ruckus. They may have taken temporary possession my body, but my determination ensured I won the war for my soul. I feel pretty good about that. And, I truly believe this cold will be 100% gone in three days now. It knows I mean business.

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I Was A 98 Year Old Author

One stack of books I am working my way through.

“We are what we repeatedly do. Excellence, then, is not an act, but a habit.”             ~Aristotle

I feel like a kid in school again. There is so much I need to do if I want to realize my goal of writing a major work. Yesterday, I spent a long time in Barnes and Noble in the Writing section flipping through books on every conceivable aspect of writing and publishing. I looked through books with ideas, books about the process, books about writing every possible genre, books about self-publishing, and books about finding an agent. I sat on the floor thumbing through pages becoming more and more overwhelmed with every passing second. The amount of information is astounding. I could spend a lifetime reading about how to write a book and never even write a book. It made me question if I was insane for imagining I could do this. I left the bookstore with four books, two about writing and two about feminism, a headache, and a hole filled with doubt in the pit of my stomach.

When I got home, I opened up one of the books, A Novel in a Year by Louise Doughty, and started reading. Ms. Doughty offers 52 weeks of exercises designed to break the unconquerable task of writing down into bite-size bits. It is filled with useful advice on writing and practical exercises to “help writers develop confidence and style.” Yep. That sounds like something that might help me. I’m, more or less, starting at ground zero right now. I could use all the advice and practice I can get. The first exercise was simple. She offered a sentence for us to complete. I turned my sentence into a paragraph and felt reasonably pleased what I had written. Funny how the fear of writing goes away when you write instead of merely thinking about it, preparing for it, or talking about it.

And so I’ve decided to look on this as a journey, not a destination. The goal is to publish, but the timeline is flexible. If I work constantly thinking that the only way I will be successful is when I actually publish, then I’m unduly stressing myself out. I am on a path, not a racetrack. Every time I write, I learn something about myself through my emotion, my choice of words, the mere act of putting thoughts on paper (or a screen). I do mean to publish, but if it doesn’t happen until I’m 98 that is fine. If I write repeatedly from now until then, I might just turn myself into an excellent 98 year old author.

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I Was Wrong

Today marks my 100th consecutive day writing on this silly blog. About 101 days ago, I was not sure I could do it. I’m happy to report that I was wrong. I was the only thing standing in my way. I’m glad I stepped aside and let myself through. I’m not going to prattle on about this accomplishment because I truly hope that I’ll make it every day this year without missing a post, and I’m sure no one cares about these milestones aside from me.

However, in reflecting on how I got from Day One to Day One Hundred, I realize that the only thing that made this blog possible was the decision to do it. It took only the desire not to miss a day to ensure I didn’t miss a day. Admittedly, it was not easy…but it was possible.

I’ve always loved this quote but it seems especially appropriate today, so I thought I would share it:

“Whatever you do, or dream you can, begin it. Boldness has genius and power and magic in it.” ~ Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

If there’s something you haven’t begun or attempted because you’re not sure you’ll have the time or the energy or the fortitude to be successful, go ahead and step boldly in that direction. Make yourself a priority. Believe in what you can accomplish. If you do, one day fairly soon you too will be fortunate enough to admit you were wrong to sell yourself short. I don’t know about you, but if I have to be wrong I think this is the best way to go about it.

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Filling Out a Deposit Slip

The sky in my present world.

“You can clutch the past so tightly to your chest that it leaves your arms too full to embrace the present.”                    ~ Jane Glidewell

I have to admit that I feel like something of a fraud. I come here daily to blog, to write about living now and living zen, but for the past few months I’ve been doing nothing of the sort. I’ve been hanging onto some things that I really need to let go of…slights, memories, and long-dead hopes. I’ve been in a quagmire of disappointment and self-doubt. Today I read a quote that nudged me just enough to start my momentum. The quote read: “There are two types of people in your life…those that make deposits and those that make withdrawals. Cut out the latter.” (Thanks, Reshell.)

This afternoon I finally shifted my position enough to get a new perspective, to admit that I’ve been stuck in negatives when I should be nothing but positive. They (whoever “they” are) say that the first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem. So, I’m telling you all I have a problem. I’ve been an Eeyore. I’ve felt sad and hopeless and insignificant and silly. It’s been a horrible waste of my abundant energy. I know that once I let go of the negatives that are holding me back I will lighten like a balloon filling with helium and have nowhere to go but up. That’s a beautiful thought.

So, starting here, starting now, I am moving on. It might take me a while, but I will make it. Life is too short to give your time and energy to people or situations that don’t buoy your spirits and breathe life into your being. I’m going to jettison some things and get out of my own way.

Suddenly, my life feels like the photo above. There are still clouds, but the sun is coming out. I like how that sounds.

 

 

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Too Young for the Rocking Chair

One of my favorite sayings

As the hours of the long holiday weekend counted down today, I noticed my oldest son becoming more and more agitated. He was so worried about wasting a second of what was left of his time off school that he became obsessed with the passing of time. The later it got this afternoon, the more frenzied and frustrated he became. He had just a small amount of homework to complete, but instead of buckling down and focusing on getting it out of the way so he could enjoy himself he railed against it. He spent two full hours fussing over what should have taken him no more than 30 minutes, and then he still had to put in the 30 minutes’ worth of work.

This is a common pattern for Joe. He has a tendency to procrastinate and then worry about the time he’s wasted. I don’t know how to help him, and I feel for bad for him. I am not a procrastinator. I loathe the feeling of having something hanging over my head, so in school I was the kid who worked on her homework on the bus ride home. Any free minute I had during the day was devoted to making sure I was caught up or, better yet, ahead of the curve on my assignments. At work, a boss never had to bother me about a deadline because I perpetually met them in advance. For me, the dread of having something undone is worse than the effort of getting right down to business and simply getting it over with.

After Joe had finally finished his work and was able to relax a bit, I reminded him of my favorite phrase about worry, procrastination’s dear friend. The phrase is one I share often with friends when they talk about the heavy mental burdens they are carrying. In my early 20s, I was deeply in debt. Between student loans, my used car, and credit cards, I had racked up more debt than I could pay off even while working two jobs. I remember waking up in the middle of the night with a panic attack and rifling through my closet, desperately searching for items I could possibly return or sell for extra cash. I was in a downward spiral. I had friends who were preparing to file for bankruptcy at the same time but, at 23, I found that option unthinkable. Instead I faced the miserable fact that I was in a hole, walked into a Consumer Credit Counseling office, and signed up to pay off my debt. Bit by bit I clawed my way out of that self-dug, cavernous abyss. It took me three full years, but at 26 I was debt free. Those lean years in debt management were tough, but that period of my life changed me. I now understand that worry is a waste of time and that I am plenty strong enough to face and overcome hardships. Those years, desolate and trying, were a gift.

I do hope that Joe will learn sooner rather than later that worry is pointless. It’s just another form of procrastination, another way to rob ourselves of the present moment. I also hope Joe’s lesson won’t be a three-year trial like mine was. Most things in life have a way of working themselves out. And, the things that don’t resolve themselves can be remedied with a little hard work. I know Joe will ultimately be successful because he’s bright and capable. I just hope he gets out of the habit of worrying sooner than I did. He’s far too young to be wasting time in a rocking chair.

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The Easiest Way Down Is For Sissies

There is difficult, slightly difficult, and not difficult at all. But, what you get out of life is largely only what you put into it.

“If there is no struggle, there is no progress.”                               ~  Frederick Douglass

I spent my weekend skiing at a resort that was new to me. It’s been a long time since that was the case for me, and I had forgotten how much it helps to rely on ski maps until you get your bearings somewhere new on a mountain. So, my friends and I studied the map, picked some routes, and targeted a few areas we were interested in experiencing. One thing struck me wherever we went on the mountain, though. I kept seeing signs that pointed to the easiest way down. Now, I know that if I had been on the beginner slopes, I would not have seen those signs; but because we’d decided to spend a fair amount of time on advanced terrain we saw plenty of signs that offered an easy way out.

Those signs are crucial on a ski mountain. Sometimes, without a map, you end up somewhere that might require more skiing skills than you actually possess. To keep yourself from injury, you need to find the easiest way down. But, the more I reflected on those signs, the more I realized that perpetually taking the easiest way down can do more harm than good. I only became a better skier when I began trusting myself and taking some risks on tougher slopes. If I had not been willing to let go, ski a bit faster, and believe in my abilities, I would still be stuck in the same rut, too fearful to venture out.

I work hard to show my boys that growth only comes through taking calculated risks, branching out, trying new things, and being willing occasionally to look foolish for a while while you work towards improvement. Most of the strides I’ve made in my life, the goals I’ve accomplished and are most proud of, have come only as a result of overcoming a struggle. Many things that have come too easily feel unimportant by comparison. And, the things I most worried I would not be able to do yet eventually accomplished are my happiest memories. If you look at a difficult task square on, have doubts in your ability to surmount it, and yet plug right along until the goal is reached, you truly are rewarded. If you’d asked me ten years ago if I could ride my bike 150 miles in two days, I would have flat out laughed. Yet, here I am with two MS150 rides under my belt and a third one on tap for this summer. I won’t lie. The last 7 miles on those 75-mile days are rough. But, once I roll under the finish gates, I feel such intense joy and strength. I know I can do anything. I am invincible.

Without struggle there is no progress. The easiest way down will get you where you need to be. No doubt about it. You can continually travel the same well-trodden path and live a perfectly adequate life. You won’t get anywhere but through it, but you’ll do fine. But if you can accept (or even seek out) a challenge or struggle now and then, you will grow beyond your wildest expectations. While I appreciate the tips on finding the easiest way down, I think I’ll keep pushing my boundaries for a while and see where I end up instead.

 

 

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