I’ll just have to make it a point to get out of the house, that’s all.
(from the Lazy, Stupid, and Godless group on Ravelry)
Category: Goals
Resolutions. Or Not.
I’ve been thinking about resolutions all day (which is to say on commercial breaks and while driving to Chapters only to find that THE INTERNET LIED and they weren’t open after all, dammit). I feel like this is a big year, for some reason, Mayan bullshit excepted.
So, some things:
I want to waste less: time, energy, money, mental space taken up by stupid shit that doesn’t matter.
I want to make more: to write and publish more, finish up some knitting projects, and bake every week.
I want to read more: I thought about setting a “goal” number, 52 books this year? 100? but that takes the joy out of reading. So, just more.
I want to strengthen my relationships with the people who matter most to me, and to let go of those who suck the life out of me.
I don’t know if these are resolutions, in the traditional New Year’s sense, because they’re all things I’ve been working on lately anyway. But at the same time, these are all important to me, and sharpening my focus on them only helps me get where I want to be. So, there you have it.
What are your goals this year?
Regarding Yesterday’s Post:
I’m ready. Balls-to-the-wall, sleeves rolled up, let’s do this. New life, startinnnnng…. NOW.
(photo from tumblr)
That Whole “Balance” Thing
Here we go again.
I haven’t written anything in a few days. Scratch that, it might be approaching two weeks at this point. Two weeks without fiction or journalling. Two weeks of barely even maintaining my planner. Two weeks may not seem like much, but two whole weeks without creating anything is like drowning. Not only does it feel awful, but with every day that slips by it gets harder and harder to get started again.
It’s not even a block, not really. It’s… an absence. Whole days pass without even the inkling to pick up a pen or to open a text program.
Bizarrely, I’ve been super productive lately in other areas. I’ve been baking up a storm, knitting a very secret Christmas gift, deep cleaning and streamlining the house. But the more I seem to get done in my day-to-day life, the more it seems my career is suffering. It’s completely unacceptable.
I’ve decided that enough is enough. One whole year of my five-year career plan has slipped by, and I’m not where I thought I would be. I’m not where I need to be. But today starts a new month. I’m considering December a practice run before the new year kicks in.
In four years I don’t want to look back and realize I let myself down.
This is it.
(photo by Colin Harris)
Hello There, All-Nighter
I’m making some exciting headway on my novel (“novel” is such a terrifying word, fraught with danger, that I dare not speak it aloud). I’m very superstitious, it turns out, and honestly even writing about how well it’s going makes me afraid of jinxing it.
You gotta strike while the iron’s hot, they say. So, in homage to the good old days when I’d see the whole night through, I’m queuing up the coffee maker and having myself a little write-a-thon tonight. Once C heads to bed, the games begin.
I don’t remember the last time I was this excited about a story. And now, to appease the Gods of humility, let us not speak of it until the night is through.
Back to the Grind
Ugh, vacation’s over. I’m back to work tomorrow.
Why is it that time spent at work feels so much longer than time spent…well, doing pretty much anything else?
I’ve always promised myself I wouldn’t post much about DayJob, having read the horror stories of people fired for same, but suffice it to say I am not looking forward to going back. That bit’s no secret.
My solution to stay sane: I’m reading 168 Hours: You Have More Time Than You Think and really thinking about ways I can still feel like my creative self while I’m going about my day. I’m not far into the book, but already I’m seeing all kinds of small ways I can get more done.
I bought a new charger for my dead netbook, so step one will be committing to writing at lunch. Tried before, didn’t stick with it, but I’ve reevaluated my priorities and I’m ready to give it another go. Besides, I’ll never get anywhere unless I really push myself.
Step two is nerding it up by self-designing new scheduling inserts for my Filofax. It seems I can’t find any that suit me, and I think I need to visually see where my time is going in order to use it better.
There’s got to be some way to get there.
I Need to Staple This to My Forehead.
First I questioned the fact that Stick Guy only has two (three?) cups of coffee. Then I realized the cups are as tall as his chair. Well played, The System.
NYT: “A Book a Year is Slacking”
“For years, it was a schedule as predictable as a calendar: novelists who specialized in mysteries, thrillers and romance would write one book a year, output that was considered not only sufficient, but productive.
But the e-book age has accelerated the metabolism of book publishing. Authors are now pulling the literary equivalent of a double shift, churning out short stories, novellas or even an extra full-length book each year.”
Read the full article here.
Writers: are you concerned about productivity? How much output is “enough”?
sniderwriter 