I am surrounded by coziness.
My law office has a comfy desk and office chair; it is very official looking, with degrees on the wall, and it is clean and filled with inspirational items; really, it's very feng shui, if I do say so myself, mainly because my mom picked out most of the decorations. I wouldn't be able to decorate a blank piece of paper if I were given one colored marker and a stencil.
Our reception area is also very comfortable; we have a leather-ish sofa and leather-ish chairs, a coffee table, and again, my landlord-type-person is quite the stylish decorator, so it's the perfect space to set up a well-organized mind to work.
My home also has a very nice desk; it is smaller, but it is made of old-looking wood that gives off an air of competence and "you should work here." It has lots of nooks and crannies for organizing things and a lamp on it for my poor tired eyes.
We even have a fantastically comfortable leather sofa in my house. I have slept on this sofa on many occasions, usually unintentionally. It beckons with cushiony goodness for weary bones.
Of all of these options, which one do you think I select for getting the most work done?
If you picked "Option F, None of the Above," you'd be correct.
No, my workspace of choice is sitting on a bar stool at my kitchen counter.
It's very uncomfortable. While it's a cushiony bar stool, it is nonetheless a bar stool, and after 8 to 10 hours of work, my lower back is usually screaming at me to stop. There is also absolutely no room on this counter. It's usually crammed with discarded junk mail, half-finished household projects, and dirty dishes. It also gives me a prime view of my kitchen, which, despite our best efforts, is typically a great big mess.
However, starting with law school and moving up to the present day, I have yet to find a place where I can accomplish more on any given day than perched atop this precarious stoop, hunched over my laptop, juggling paper and various electronic devices. I credit this barstool with my graduation with honors from law school, my first novel, and now, my successful law practice and freelance writing business.
Go figure.
This is of moderate concern, however, as the house we are moving into in a few weeks doesn't really have space for a countertop and an uncomfortable bar stool. I'm therefore fielding suggestions on uncomfortable places I can continue this practice. The only real requirements are discomfort, an electrical outlet, and a WiFi connection. All other amenities are, clearly, optional.
Showing posts with label Motivation. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Motivation. Show all posts
Monday, April 29, 2013
Tuesday, May 1, 2012
Diversify or Concentrate?
I have been bombarded with choices my entire life. It's really defined me as a person in many ways, mainly because it's left me virtually incapable of making a decision.
I still remember when I was growing up, my parents took me out furniture shopping for a new bedroom set when we moved to Richmond, VA. I can't tell you how many different furniture stores we went to, how many different sets of beds and dressers I looked at, how many different styles there were to choose from. It was exhausting. It was frustrating. I hated every second of it.
In retrospect, I know I was lucky to even have the option of going furniture shopping for my own room. But at the time, I really could not have cared less. I was fifteen, I had no taste whatsoever (and still don't), and every time I actually made a decision about something I liked, my parents would remind me of my dozens of other options, as if I'd somehow made the wrong choice. Granted, one of those choices involved zebra prints and lots of reflective surfaces, but hey -- they asked me what I wanted. We fortunately ended up with a very tasteful set of furniture. I, of course, had nothing to do with selecting it. Which is probably for the best. I was kind of resentful of all of the fruitless furniture shopping trips, though.
Years later, I take the experience as a lesson in a theory I've been developing lately. There is something to be said for a lack of options. It's efficient. It focuses your attention away from all of the fluff, and hopefully puts you in a position to make the best choice out of what you have to work with.
The same is true of selecting a profession. I once had a dean at my undergraduate college explain to me why he hated approving credit overloads for students - he felt like people were spreading their studies too thin, perhaps in hopes of covering just enough ground that they'd be employable to someone, somewhere. He kept having to approve credit overloads for people who were double- and triple-majors, with additional minors in underwater basket weaving as a fall-back. But looking around at the job market these days, it seems like more opportunities are available for people that focused themselves - they picked something, and just went for it. All or nothing.
I think the same can be said for writing. More success is available to those who focus.
Think about it. If you decide that all you want to be is a writer - or a singer, or an actor - what would you do differently? How would you spend your time? You could focus on your craft AND work on the business end of things. Could you think of ways to make ends meet while you focus on your dream?
But then consider how things might be going now, while you're trying to "diversify" - working another full-time job, writing during off hours, squeezing it in when you can. I think this describes a lot of people who are trying to get by financially while holding out some hope of pursuing their dreams on the side.
It doesn't bode well for me, either. I'm not gonna lie - I diversify all over the place. I split my time over a gajillion different projects. My writing performance is spotty at best. I'm not even going to admit to you how many times I haven't gone to the gym lately. I take on so many goals at once, all of them end up suffering in the long-term.
Don't take this post as a ringing endorsement to go out and quit your job immediately (although I wouldn't blame you if you do). But it's food for thought - if you could focus, and concentrate, and just do what you want to do instead of diversifying over several different things, what could you accomplish? Do you see the value if only doing a few things well instead of doing many things at a mediocre level? Can you work towards that now?
I still remember when I was growing up, my parents took me out furniture shopping for a new bedroom set when we moved to Richmond, VA. I can't tell you how many different furniture stores we went to, how many different sets of beds and dressers I looked at, how many different styles there were to choose from. It was exhausting. It was frustrating. I hated every second of it.
In retrospect, I know I was lucky to even have the option of going furniture shopping for my own room. But at the time, I really could not have cared less. I was fifteen, I had no taste whatsoever (and still don't), and every time I actually made a decision about something I liked, my parents would remind me of my dozens of other options, as if I'd somehow made the wrong choice. Granted, one of those choices involved zebra prints and lots of reflective surfaces, but hey -- they asked me what I wanted. We fortunately ended up with a very tasteful set of furniture. I, of course, had nothing to do with selecting it. Which is probably for the best. I was kind of resentful of all of the fruitless furniture shopping trips, though.
Years later, I take the experience as a lesson in a theory I've been developing lately. There is something to be said for a lack of options. It's efficient. It focuses your attention away from all of the fluff, and hopefully puts you in a position to make the best choice out of what you have to work with.
The same is true of selecting a profession. I once had a dean at my undergraduate college explain to me why he hated approving credit overloads for students - he felt like people were spreading their studies too thin, perhaps in hopes of covering just enough ground that they'd be employable to someone, somewhere. He kept having to approve credit overloads for people who were double- and triple-majors, with additional minors in underwater basket weaving as a fall-back. But looking around at the job market these days, it seems like more opportunities are available for people that focused themselves - they picked something, and just went for it. All or nothing.
I think the same can be said for writing. More success is available to those who focus.
Think about it. If you decide that all you want to be is a writer - or a singer, or an actor - what would you do differently? How would you spend your time? You could focus on your craft AND work on the business end of things. Could you think of ways to make ends meet while you focus on your dream?
But then consider how things might be going now, while you're trying to "diversify" - working another full-time job, writing during off hours, squeezing it in when you can. I think this describes a lot of people who are trying to get by financially while holding out some hope of pursuing their dreams on the side.
It doesn't bode well for me, either. I'm not gonna lie - I diversify all over the place. I split my time over a gajillion different projects. My writing performance is spotty at best. I'm not even going to admit to you how many times I haven't gone to the gym lately. I take on so many goals at once, all of them end up suffering in the long-term.
Don't take this post as a ringing endorsement to go out and quit your job immediately (although I wouldn't blame you if you do). But it's food for thought - if you could focus, and concentrate, and just do what you want to do instead of diversifying over several different things, what could you accomplish? Do you see the value if only doing a few things well instead of doing many things at a mediocre level? Can you work towards that now?
Monday, April 23, 2012
"I'll do it later" syndrome
My fatal flaw is that I am the ultimate procrastinator. I procrastinate because I'm constantly overwhelmed by the amount that I have to do, and it's easier to ignore it and do something else.
For example, when I'm about to start cleaning, I will survey my condo and note all of the things that need to be picked up, wiped down, vacuumed, and tidied. I then realize that doing all the things I need to do will actually take me a few hours, rather than the 20 to 30 minutes I wanted to dedicate to the project. So, instead of rolling up my sleeves and diving in, I stress and fret for that 20 to 30 minutes, then wander off and find something else to do.
The same is true of my writing. I am editing right now. As a result, my condo is very clean, and I have a fridge stocked with all of the food I cooked yesterday for the week. Because the amount of editing I have to do is intimidating the hell out of me. So of course I'd rather do anything but that.
So. This here is some smack talk to my subconscious.
Do you REALLY think you are going to become a writer if you keep waking up miserable in the morning because you got nothing done the night before? And then it's time to go to work, right? And you spend the entire car trip with knots in your stomach while you go to a job that - let's face it - you don't hate, but you just don't have the passion to do for the next 40 years of your life. So to pep yourself up, you go right ahead and picture yourself as a successful writer. What kind of lifestyle you'll have, how you'll get to spend your time. As if it's possible to dream yourself there. When really you know what's going to happen - you're going to sit at your desk and pray to God no one finds out you're as incompetent as you feel. You're going to exhaust yourself with stress and worry, because that's what being a lawyer is good for. And then you'll go home, have a scotch, sulk, watch lame-ass TV, and write it off as just "not feeling inspired enough" to work on your novel.
And then you'll do the exact same thing again the next day.
And the next.
Well, guess what? I'm really sick of that whole mess. It's time to stop pouting and feeling sorry for yourself. There is no magic gadget that is going to make writing easier when you actually, God forbid, sit down and really work at it for once. But you want to do it, so it's time to actually do it. Stop making excuses, stop procrastinating.
You edited for all of an hour tonight. Just one hour, but look at the progress you made! The first five scenes of your novel, the first 8000 words of your novel - edited! Not to perfection. No, we are working in layers, because that's what we do. But you cut a lot of chaff you were fretting about. You tightened up some language. You corrected some crap grammar. AND you thought of some new things to add to replace the 700+ words you ended up cutting! And they're good things. Good ideas.
Can you commit to doing an hour tomorrow night? I know you'll probably get home late. You're going to have to make up for sneaking out a little early this evening. But there is a plus side - the kitchen is clean. The fridge is full of food that you just have to heat and eat.
And, OK, hell, you can use your new voice dictation device thingy you bought for your car. So instead of fretting, maybe you can actually do something useful with your time while you drive.
Now if only you could actually get your fat butt to the gym once in a while.
For example, when I'm about to start cleaning, I will survey my condo and note all of the things that need to be picked up, wiped down, vacuumed, and tidied. I then realize that doing all the things I need to do will actually take me a few hours, rather than the 20 to 30 minutes I wanted to dedicate to the project. So, instead of rolling up my sleeves and diving in, I stress and fret for that 20 to 30 minutes, then wander off and find something else to do.
The same is true of my writing. I am editing right now. As a result, my condo is very clean, and I have a fridge stocked with all of the food I cooked yesterday for the week. Because the amount of editing I have to do is intimidating the hell out of me. So of course I'd rather do anything but that.
So. This here is some smack talk to my subconscious.
Do you REALLY think you are going to become a writer if you keep waking up miserable in the morning because you got nothing done the night before? And then it's time to go to work, right? And you spend the entire car trip with knots in your stomach while you go to a job that - let's face it - you don't hate, but you just don't have the passion to do for the next 40 years of your life. So to pep yourself up, you go right ahead and picture yourself as a successful writer. What kind of lifestyle you'll have, how you'll get to spend your time. As if it's possible to dream yourself there. When really you know what's going to happen - you're going to sit at your desk and pray to God no one finds out you're as incompetent as you feel. You're going to exhaust yourself with stress and worry, because that's what being a lawyer is good for. And then you'll go home, have a scotch, sulk, watch lame-ass TV, and write it off as just "not feeling inspired enough" to work on your novel.
And then you'll do the exact same thing again the next day.
And the next.
Well, guess what? I'm really sick of that whole mess. It's time to stop pouting and feeling sorry for yourself. There is no magic gadget that is going to make writing easier when you actually, God forbid, sit down and really work at it for once. But you want to do it, so it's time to actually do it. Stop making excuses, stop procrastinating.
You edited for all of an hour tonight. Just one hour, but look at the progress you made! The first five scenes of your novel, the first 8000 words of your novel - edited! Not to perfection. No, we are working in layers, because that's what we do. But you cut a lot of chaff you were fretting about. You tightened up some language. You corrected some crap grammar. AND you thought of some new things to add to replace the 700+ words you ended up cutting! And they're good things. Good ideas.
Can you commit to doing an hour tomorrow night? I know you'll probably get home late. You're going to have to make up for sneaking out a little early this evening. But there is a plus side - the kitchen is clean. The fridge is full of food that you just have to heat and eat.
And, OK, hell, you can use your new voice dictation device thingy you bought for your car. So instead of fretting, maybe you can actually do something useful with your time while you drive.
Now if only you could actually get your fat butt to the gym once in a while.
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
When was the last time you were truly happy?
I've been asking myself this question all day today. I'm not really a depressed, melancholy kind of person, but I sometimes get into a sad mood and think about these things.
I think part of the reason I write is because everyday life can often lack real emotion. We have annoyances. Some of us have really big annoyances, but that's all they really are. Every so often, something incredibly sad happens, like the loss of a loved one. But what really, truly causes happiness, or real fear, or real anger?
I sometimes feel ancient, even at only 29 years old, and I wonder if I've really felt anything since I was a kid. Do you remember the unadulterated joy of childhood? Like getting a new toy, or going to an amusement park, or discovering something? You didn't have to try to be happy - it just happened naturally. And we felt real fear as kids - when we'd done something wrong, and we just knew we had it coming. Or real anger, because some other kid was mean to us.
Now, as an adult, I find myself on a pretty even keel most of the time. And that even keel mostly consists of... "blah." I'm not particularly sad. I can't say I'm particularly happy, either. I'm just... really normal. And I'm bored.
So when I write, I really enjoy the fact that I can make my characters pure. They can have emotions, adventures, and experiences. They're not wasting time in a tiny little condo out in the middle of nowhere, trying to do what they should be doing with their lives. Frankly, if I could find an effective way to eliminate currency in my fantasy world, I would. Unfortunately I can't think of an effective way to do it that wouldn't tie up the plot for 2 days while my characters exchange some menial farm work for food.
Anyways, I don't have a particular point, except that I saw a video tribute to "Everybody's Free (To Wear Sunscreen)" today and it got me thinking. I wonder if self-publishing this year will make me happy? I'm not sure that the action itself will. But if someone reads my book and enjoys it, then I think that would probably cause me to be happy. And I think that's okay.
I think part of the reason I write is because everyday life can often lack real emotion. We have annoyances. Some of us have really big annoyances, but that's all they really are. Every so often, something incredibly sad happens, like the loss of a loved one. But what really, truly causes happiness, or real fear, or real anger?
I sometimes feel ancient, even at only 29 years old, and I wonder if I've really felt anything since I was a kid. Do you remember the unadulterated joy of childhood? Like getting a new toy, or going to an amusement park, or discovering something? You didn't have to try to be happy - it just happened naturally. And we felt real fear as kids - when we'd done something wrong, and we just knew we had it coming. Or real anger, because some other kid was mean to us.
Now, as an adult, I find myself on a pretty even keel most of the time. And that even keel mostly consists of... "blah." I'm not particularly sad. I can't say I'm particularly happy, either. I'm just... really normal. And I'm bored.
So when I write, I really enjoy the fact that I can make my characters pure. They can have emotions, adventures, and experiences. They're not wasting time in a tiny little condo out in the middle of nowhere, trying to do what they should be doing with their lives. Frankly, if I could find an effective way to eliminate currency in my fantasy world, I would. Unfortunately I can't think of an effective way to do it that wouldn't tie up the plot for 2 days while my characters exchange some menial farm work for food.
Anyways, I don't have a particular point, except that I saw a video tribute to "Everybody's Free (To Wear Sunscreen)" today and it got me thinking. I wonder if self-publishing this year will make me happy? I'm not sure that the action itself will. But if someone reads my book and enjoys it, then I think that would probably cause me to be happy. And I think that's okay.
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
Posty-Posty Post-Post
I have a food problem.
When writing, I often will space out for a few minutes while trying to decide how to proceed with my current scene. I also use this time to eat something. My favorite way of stalling is going to the fridge, opening it and staring at the contents, then glancing over at the pantry, then back to the fridge...
To be honest, writing is sometimes boring. Don't get me wrong - I would rather be writing than doing just about anything else in the world. However, I'm not one of those fortunate, super-inspired individuals that have words pouring out of them like a waterfall at all times. No. I'm far too careful most of the time. So, when I stop to think, sometimes I get a little roadblocked, and my next source of inspiration usually involves something on a pita chip (I love the fact that I can buy Stacy's Naked Pita Chips), or cheese, or peanut butter, or things that are far less healthy than that.
I'm a compulsive boredom-eater. There, I said it.
I was this way in law school a lot too. I would be slogging through pages and pages of dense material, and I often found it was difficult to stay awake if I wasn't also munching on something at the same time. I tried to channel this into something healthy - e.g. instead of tortilla chips, carrot sticks! - but really, my tastebuds just won't fall for it. I once forced myself to study for an exam by eating a steady stream of wasabi-flavored almonds and craisins (alternating between the two, of course) over the course of 8 hours. I got a really great grade in the class. I also gained like 3 pounds. I try to save those episodes for times I really need a huge incentive to keep my butt in gear.
I suppose there is a plus - I'm much happier writing than anything else, so I don't depression-eat as much anymore (unless it's because I want to be writing and can't be...) Hopefully it balances out!
When writing, I often will space out for a few minutes while trying to decide how to proceed with my current scene. I also use this time to eat something. My favorite way of stalling is going to the fridge, opening it and staring at the contents, then glancing over at the pantry, then back to the fridge...
To be honest, writing is sometimes boring. Don't get me wrong - I would rather be writing than doing just about anything else in the world. However, I'm not one of those fortunate, super-inspired individuals that have words pouring out of them like a waterfall at all times. No. I'm far too careful most of the time. So, when I stop to think, sometimes I get a little roadblocked, and my next source of inspiration usually involves something on a pita chip (I love the fact that I can buy Stacy's Naked Pita Chips), or cheese, or peanut butter, or things that are far less healthy than that.
I'm a compulsive boredom-eater. There, I said it.
I was this way in law school a lot too. I would be slogging through pages and pages of dense material, and I often found it was difficult to stay awake if I wasn't also munching on something at the same time. I tried to channel this into something healthy - e.g. instead of tortilla chips, carrot sticks! - but really, my tastebuds just won't fall for it. I once forced myself to study for an exam by eating a steady stream of wasabi-flavored almonds and craisins (alternating between the two, of course) over the course of 8 hours. I got a really great grade in the class. I also gained like 3 pounds. I try to save those episodes for times I really need a huge incentive to keep my butt in gear.
I suppose there is a plus - I'm much happier writing than anything else, so I don't depression-eat as much anymore (unless it's because I want to be writing and can't be...) Hopefully it balances out!
Sunday, January 22, 2012
Ode to Coffee
Ode to Coffee
A tribute
My alarm clock doth ring
And out of bed I don't spring
For too early is it
Yet at my desk I must sit.
Still yawnin' and stretchin'
I make my way to the kitchen
To put things in motion
Brewing life's sweetest potion.
As I shower, I think
What awaits me to drink
So I soak and I scrub
Don't fall asleep in the tub!
Could I just stay awake
As my hair and face I make,
Do my clothes even match?
I might need a second batch.
Completed, I emerge
Oh morning, thou art my scourge!
But look, in the distance...
That which saves my existence!
Come sweetly to my lips,
Never mind the scalding drips.
I can face this new day
Sweet nectar, don't go away!
Friday, January 13, 2012
Just keep writing...
The last couple of days have been tough.
1) I am having a rough time at my day job, and it's starting to cut into my writing time. The primary problem is that we do not have a lot of systems in place. I am a very systematic person - I like lists, checkboxes, calendars, deadlines, etc. My current job is mainly about managing relationships - which, as many people know, doesn't lend itself to a checklist sort of system. Plus, I'm always worried that I'm forgetting something. Meaning that when I suddenly realize at 8:30 pm that I did forget something, I immediately stop writing and start working.
Just an FYI, working from home is great when you suddenly have a huge energy crash in the middle of the day and can use your lunch time to take a quick cat nap. It's not so great when you wake up at 2:30 in the morning and decide to work because you suddenly got a flash of anxiety that you forgot something.
2) I am still making myself write - even if it's just 2 or 3 sentences. It forces me to remember the world I'm creating and keep it foremost in my mind. If I didn't even do 2 or 3 sentences, I'd probably drift off, forget my characters' names, and then have to re-invent the wheel whenever I finally did manage to sit down and write again 2 months later.
3) I'm officially old. Well, not really, but I'm kind of creeped out. Today marks the beginning of my last year as a 20-something. Next year, I hit the big 3-0. Somehow, I always thought I'd be farther along in my life by now. I remember writing out plans in college to be retired by the age of 28 so I could enjoy life a little bit before I turned old ("old" being 35). Instead I'm sitting here wondering where the time went.
I can't even imagine having to do this and raise a kid at the same time! Many props to my partner in crime Stephanie for handling it so well... (she promised she'd post something here soon, I hope she chimes in, otherwise I'm going to have to play the "birthday" card and tell her she has to 'cuz the birthday girl says so...)
1) I am having a rough time at my day job, and it's starting to cut into my writing time. The primary problem is that we do not have a lot of systems in place. I am a very systematic person - I like lists, checkboxes, calendars, deadlines, etc. My current job is mainly about managing relationships - which, as many people know, doesn't lend itself to a checklist sort of system. Plus, I'm always worried that I'm forgetting something. Meaning that when I suddenly realize at 8:30 pm that I did forget something, I immediately stop writing and start working.
Just an FYI, working from home is great when you suddenly have a huge energy crash in the middle of the day and can use your lunch time to take a quick cat nap. It's not so great when you wake up at 2:30 in the morning and decide to work because you suddenly got a flash of anxiety that you forgot something.
2) I am still making myself write - even if it's just 2 or 3 sentences. It forces me to remember the world I'm creating and keep it foremost in my mind. If I didn't even do 2 or 3 sentences, I'd probably drift off, forget my characters' names, and then have to re-invent the wheel whenever I finally did manage to sit down and write again 2 months later.
3) I'm officially old. Well, not really, but I'm kind of creeped out. Today marks the beginning of my last year as a 20-something. Next year, I hit the big 3-0. Somehow, I always thought I'd be farther along in my life by now. I remember writing out plans in college to be retired by the age of 28 so I could enjoy life a little bit before I turned old ("old" being 35). Instead I'm sitting here wondering where the time went.
I can't even imagine having to do this and raise a kid at the same time! Many props to my partner in crime Stephanie for handling it so well... (she promised she'd post something here soon, I hope she chimes in, otherwise I'm going to have to play the "birthday" card and tell her she has to 'cuz the birthday girl says so...)
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