Do the Work

 

Taking on the 500 word a day challenge has made a profound shift in my understanding of what it takes for me to name and claim a writer’s life. It’s also given me great insight into why so far I've experienced sporadic and limited success with my writing.

 

Success at anything requires takes continuous effort.  Anyone who’s been labeled as an overnight success will tell you it was twenty, thirty, even forty years in the making.  It may also have something to do with the 10,000 hours of practice required for mastery as suggested by Malcolm Gladwell in his book, Outliers.

I could argue I have easy logged 10,000 hours into my job, looking for stuff, or trying to lose weight, and I’m nowhere near mastering any of that.

It may be the combination of effort, attention, and intention that make for eventual mastery. Well, that, and loving the practice itself.

It means being fascinated by how I feel when I eat less and exercise more. Or being more mindful in the present moment than trying to retrace my steps later.  Or being open to learning as much from my students as I attempt to teach them.

It’s easy to tell myself I'll make this kind of effort when I have more time and energy. The real challenge, of course, is to exert this kind of effort with the time and energy available to me right now.

Creativity guru Eric Maisel says, “You must be able to create in the middle of things or else you will not create.”  The best time to practice my craft is whenever and wherever I can.

Before I could whip out a smart phone read a book, play brain games, or pin stuff while I waited, I learned to carry a small notebook and a trusty pen.  This taught me to observe the world in a way that has served me well. 

Instead of asking myself, "What's wrong with this picture?", I'd ask, "What's wacky or wonderful or word worthy?" Then I'd set out to describe it.

My reason for writing is not to create new worlds and invent characters that warrant their own fan clubs, but simply to witness what's in front of me and articulate it in such a way that makes you nod, smile, and say, "I know exactly what you mean," or “That happened to me, too!” 

Let’s just admit it.  Weird stuff happens to us all the time.  It takes a brave soul to blog about it.

Weaving the unsuspecting threads of our story lines together in such a way that leaves us all in stitches is a hoot for me.  Consequently, 10,000 hours seems like a drop in the bucket when I'm having fun.

I will leave you with this question.  What work is waiting for you?  Not the drudgery kind but your life's work, the I'd-do-it-even-if-I-didn't-get-paid kind of work?

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Thanks for reading!

Begin Again

It's easy to think about beginning again at the start of the New Year, a landmark birthday, or after consuming an entire box of Thin Mints.

It's not so easy on a Tuesday when the temperatures are still below zero, a month's worth of receipts are reckoning to be reconciled, and at least a half hour on the treadmill is required before my Fitbit will grace me with an 'atta girl vibration.

Never mind that I've exceeded more quotas in the past seven days than I have in the last seven months in regards to blogging and possibly exercising.  Every day is up for negotiation. If I consider compromising at this stage of the game, it's all over.

With that in mind I pick up my favorite stone, feel the words "Begin Again" etched in its otherwise smooth surface, and focus on the task at hand.  In doing so I think about the people I know who choose to do things that are challenging every day. 

I think of the students I advise who decide to go back to school while holding down a full time job and raising a couple of kids.  I think of my co-worker Rachel who gets up at 5 am to go to exercise bootcamp three times a week before getting her two little ones ready and opening our doors at 7:30am.  Or my friend Karin who is the bravest example of being her brother's keeper I know.  Or my friend Susan who looks after her 93 year old mother with the utmost care and respect.  Or my friend Linda who works two, sometimes three jobs and gives her all at every one.

The list goes on and on.  I could say something spectacular about all my friends because each of them inspire me in specific ways, with grace and good humor.  Just ask my friend Ann, aka Scooter Girl, who shared a disco roller skating Happy Birthday video I made for her on Jibjab with her Facebook friends.  

The truth is life is hard and unpredictable and beautiful and heartbreaking.   We all have our own way of taking on the challenges unique to our situation.  The way I make sense of life and marvel at both the miraculous and mundane is to write about it. 

Here's the thing I've recently learned about challenges.  Meaningful challenges energize me.  They help me focus by prioritizing my time and actions.  Just like falling in love, these kind of challenges help me remember what's worthy and funny and freeing and fabulous about being me.  

Meaningless or annoying challenges imposed on me by outside forces have the opposite effect.  Just like losing my religion, they remind me how cynical, limiting, shut down, and despondent I can become in a very short time. 

David Whyte suggests in What to Remember When Waking that the antidote to burnout is not to drop out but to engaged wholeheartedly. Brene Brown would agree. 

I know what I really want is to be firing on all cylinders as many days as possible. Having said all that, in order begin again and fire away tomorrow, my challenge tonight is to get some sleep.

Let's continue the journey tomorrow then, shall we?

 

 

  

The Way To Find Your Tribe Is To Contribute To It

Every year I vow to complete another book. Unlike my previous ones, the new one will surely be a blockbuster!  It's the story of a lifetime that is mine exclusively to tell, if only I weren't terrified to tell it.  

Last summer I tagged along with Bob and his nephew on a fishing trip to northern Minnesota.  I imagined this to be the perfect writing retreat because other than fishing, there wasn't much else to do but write.  Or so I thought.

I discovered a secluded beach, a hardware store, and other random places that held the promise of adventure as opposed to the hard work of writing. The expectation that I would produce a prolific amount of material prevented me from writing little more than a blog post.  This made me ponder the possibility that the IRS auditor might be right.  Was I just a wanna be writer who likes to take nice vacations?

What I didn't fully grasp then that I've begun to appreciate enormously in the last six days is writers write.  They don't write when it's convenient or when inspiration strikes or when they are on a self-proclaimed writing retreat.  They don't write for millions of fans who hang on their every word. They write for a small army of friends who notice if they haven't written for awhile, forgive any grammatical errors, and allow the taking of creative license to tell a better story.
 
Readers keep me more accountable than any IRS auditor ever could.  Readers and the way I feel when I write.  I pay more attention.  I am more engaged in life. I watch less television.  I exercise more because ideas tend to come to me when I'm moving.  I notice the absurdity or beauty of things in much more detail so I might share them with you.

I write to feel connected to my tribe or community.  For the longest time I believed I had to find my tribe by traveling the country, attending workshops and studying with the wise ones. I had a preconceived notion of who these people were, how they spent their time, and who I would need to be or where I would need to live to fit in.

Now I'm convinced the best way to find my tribe is to contribute to it. I do this by being my quirky self, writing what I know from wherever I happen to be, putting it out there, seeing who shows up, listening to what they have to say, and repeating often.

Clearly, I'm not for everyone.  It took me one bad blind date with a sketchy guy who revealed he'd spent time in the slammer for drug trafficking to realize that's a good thing.

But that's another story, for another day. Today, why not contribute to your tribe or community by trusting you have something of value and offering it up in a way that makes the most sense to you?

I'm betting you'll be glad you did.

Stay Curious and Just a Wee Bit Weird

I've often considered living in Portland, Oregon, where the prevailing motto is Keep Portland Weird.  I've already lived in The City Different, and I know these places do their very best to uphold their reputations.  

Now I live in Maquoketa, Iowa, where the weirdest thing today is the ridiculously cold weather, but overall is how many different ways people who are not from here will attempt to pronounce the town's name.

I like to pronounce Maquoketa in as many weird ways as possible. Often times I call people, places, and things by names other than their given name if those names don't do them justice. Other times I do simply because I can't remember their real names.  It happens more often than you might think once you reach a certain age.  

Names that describe things or people or places perfectly, I can remember.  Like Dr. Groaner, the dentist.  I kid you not.  Or Hell, Norway, one of the 7 coldest places on earth.  Yes, I'm still on the cold kick.

Words are important to me.  I'm a huge believer in what I call Name It & Claim It, especially for New Year ceremonies, birthday parties, new additions or subtractions like babies, pets, spouses, jobs, or any occasion that ushers in a significant change.

Once you get crystal clear on what you want, you are bound to go after it.  Take this writing challenge, for instance.  I've known that I wanted to write since the day I picked up a pen, but until I got clear on the who, what, when, where, why, and how - or how many in this case, I didn't get too far.  I dilly dallied and only occasionally got busy.

Until I named my intention to write at least 500 words a day for 40 days, I didn't fully claim my right to write.  I've journaled daily for years.  But that stuff stays hidden from the world at large.  It's amazing what has happened in just 5 days by letting a few people in on this adventure.  

The words wake me up.  Ideas abound and just like my dogs when they know we are going for a walk, they jump up and down with such enthusiasm I can barely get a leash on them. 

What I've learned from the dogs is despite the fact that we walk the same path almost every day, they act as if this is the most exciting thing we've ever done. They stay continually curious and always a wee bit weird.  (Like what's the allure of freeze dried fish - we live on the Maquoketa River - and why must they bring it to me like it's a treasure?)

My ideas are equally thrilled to be brought out into the light of day.  And it is very curious how the brilliance they seem to possess during the walk gets lost in translation once they hit the page and show up as the idea equivalent of freeze dried fish. 

It's as if my muses have realized they are being rewarded for their half century of silence and are free to explore and express all the weird and wonderful things the world has to offer, at least for the next 40 days. Consequently, they are not holding back.

So, stay curious, and we'll see what they have to say tomorrow.

Baby, It's Cold Outside

Oh, the weather outside is frightening.  And by all accounts, it's only going to get worse. 

Although I have heard of temperatures like 50 below zero in Antarctica, Alaska, or any number of places in Russia, I've never experienced them in Iowa.  (I might have experienced them in Minnesota had I chosen an ice fishing expedition to International Falls this winter instead of the fishing trip/writing retreat last summer.)  However, it looks like I have a chance of experiencing them as early as tomorrow. 

I shudder at the thought.  Literally.

This would be an excellent time to channel my inner Elsa from the movie Frozen.  I could dance about singing, "The cold never bothered me anyway!"

How these characters can make the ice and snow look like so inviting is part of the magic of movies... at least animated ones.  I know I, for one, would never go out in the cold in a sleeveless dress and heels and cast aside my only pair of gloves.

The key to surviving this winter wonderland existence is to be prepared.  Since I don't enjoy the cold but deem it necessary to brave it on a regular basis, I've learned to layer.  Not a day goes by when I don't have a pair of Cuddl Duds nearby (and they now come in fleece, hallelujah!), ready to complete any outfit.  

I also got a beautiful pair of warm, pink coveralls for Christmas.  When I wear them I bear a slight resemblance to the Poppin Fresh Doughgirl.  Since sporting them is for the greater good of staying active, I don't care if the neighbors refer to me as that Crazy Poppin Pink Lady at the end of the cul-de-sac.

Hats, scarves, boots, and a coat in every color - or is that a coat of many colors? - complete my winter wardrobe.  Warm is the new black.  It dictates my every fashion choice.  My fashion designer niece would totally disown me for admitting, let alone blogging, about such a thing. Given my Christmas coveralls, she might already have done so since she would argue if it's not flattering, it's not fashionable.
 

Thriving in the winter requires not just going the extra quarter mile in terms of preparing the body but also in terms of preparing the mind. Today my guy Bob and I were having lunch at a place that in the summer is swarmed with bikers.  I asked him what he thought bikers did on days like this.  Without hesitation he replied, "Snowmobile!"

And wouldn't you know, within moments we spotted some kamikaze snowmobilers having what looked like the time of their lives zipping around the very snow we were treading gingerly through.

As Jim Carey in The Grinch stated, "one man's garbage is another man's potpourri."   

While I may not like the snow and ice and cold, I'm guessing skiers do.  At least the snow part.  Winter Olympic athletes must as well.  Ice fishermen  seem to, although they sometimes seem intoxicated as well. Businesses that sell winter gear should appreciate the demand for their products.


So for the next few days I'm going to dig down deep, bust out the bravado and do my best to stay warm and safe and dry.


That will undoubtedly require some hot cocoa. Let me grab some and I'll meet you back here in front of the virtual camp fire tomorrow.

Go the Extra Quarter Mile

We’re often encouraged to go the extra mile.  I’m all for that in theory, but in practice, I’m a firm believer that even going an extra quarter mile makes a big difference.

Sometimes a mile is just too daunting a distance to go when I’m already tired and it’s late and I’m demoralized because the strategy that worked for nine frames of Wii bowling totally backfired in the tenth and arguably most important frame, nearly blowing my narrow lead.

A quarter mile is usually manageable.  Granted, guilt may be required to overcome the resistance that rears its undisciplined head even at that, but fortunately once this body gets in motion, it’s more likely to stay in motion.  And then there’s the unexpected joy kickback that comes from simply doing what I say I’m going to do.

That kickback is even greater when I have an actual device that gives me a virtual high five, woo–hoo, or some kind of personal you go, girl!  Of course, this requires going the extra quarter mile to figure out the technology involved in rigging it all up.

Case in point, this Christmas I got a Fitbit Force.  For years I wore a step counter that slid on my belt loop and required tricky maneuvering to keep it from sliding to an unsavory and often watery end.  So I was thrilled to discover the stylish Fitbit clamps on my wrist like a watch or bracelet (it’s a bugger to get on and off) and counts not only steps but calories burned, active minutes, restful sleep, and number of stairs climbed.  It also tells time and serves as a silent alarm clock (stay with me and I'll explain). I can sync all this information with the Fitbit dashboard on my computer and my smart phone and access all kinds information, if I am so inclined.

The feature that simultaneously freaks me out and delights me is the band vibrates when I reach my goal. It's also how the silent alarm clock wakes me without waking the rest of the household.  Even though I usually know when I’m nearing my goal, I’m never prepared for my wrist to writhe involuntarily.  When my wrist goes off, my phone joins in and gives me a little shout out.  This, oddly enough, makes me almost giddy.

So the Fitbit has already earned its keep.  A couple of nights I’ve been within a few hundred steps of my goal.  Had I not been wearing my Fitbit Force, I may have said close enough and called it a night.  But because inanimate objects have a way of making me feel they are animate (especially when they vibrate), taking a few hundred more steps to make the thing on my wrist tremble with joy did not seem like too much to ask.

Like house-training a new puppy or staying up with a sick child, certain situations bring out my inner Rosie the Riveter.  I have no choice but to exclaim, “I can do it!” and indeed I do. 

Of course, most of these situations only require that extra quarter mile.  But add enough of these together, four to be exact, and I’ve got the extra mile thing down.

This same principle applies to the daily 500 words.  Now if I can figure out a way to get the Fitbit to count words.  

Let me sleep on that...

I Would Write 500 Words

Yesterday in a moment of what can only be described as New Year's onset optimism, I did something I never do.  I joined a group, I accepted a challenge, I took on a crusade for creativity and I vowed to write 500 words a day for 31 days.  Let's make it 40 for good measure.

One would think this would be no big deal for a writer.  But it's a very big deal.  

While the final draft may look effortlessly articulate, there are all kinds of cutting and pasting, digressing and regressing, mindless snacking, obsessive dusting, and possibly a nap or dog walk going on before the publish button ever gets pushed.  

In other words, the process isn't pretty and it isn't quick, which sums up why there were so few posts by me in 2013.  Well, that and the audit/dishwasher debacle described in my last post. 

But it is a new year and if ever there was a time to change my ways, it is today!  

The trick to writing 500 words a day is to write fast and to write freely.  The trouble is as soon as ten words come out, five of them change their minds, three want to boss the other ones around, and two think they are a complete sentence.

The truth is I have plenty to say at all times about all things.  The rub is that most of it is repetitive and habitual and often critical and judging instead of fresh, open, curious, or accepting. Of course I can edit out all that ruckus and riff-raff so none of us arrive at that conclusion, but it takes considerable time and effort getting there.

Two years ago I came up with a plan to write down the ideas that had shaped my thinking and then write a short essay to accompany them in a book called A Penny For Your Thoughts. I planned to give the book to my friends and followers on my birthday. 

Coming up with the ideas was a cinch.  Even making a short video introducing them when I had no idea how to make a short video was incredibly energizing.  Making A Penny For Your Thoughts business cards and handing them out all over Alaska and the Yukon was a hoot.

But then something happened.  The birthday passed, the trip was over, and the motivation behind the movement evaporated overnight.  The same old doubt that used to rob me of all meaning surfaced once again.  The notorious battle cry of "Who cares anyway?" kicked in and kicked my butt.  Needless to say, the project stalled.

This doubt took on the physical form of an IRS agent who showed up and declared I was not a writer and could not claim office supplies or trips to writing workshops as a tax deductions.

Now I've lived long enough to know that things are not always what they seem.  Maybe this person was actually a "noble friend" sent to incite an outpouring of revenge writing.  You know, the "I'll show you I can write!" kind of reaction.  

Until we are moved by something ourselves, it's hard to move anyone else.  Although I would have preferred to have been catalyzed by compassion or rocked by a refund, outrage also works. No one is really inspired by someone who hasn't had a trial or two. 

So here's the deal.  For the next 40 days I'm going to write like a banshee. I'm going to introduce you to the ideas behind A Penny For Your Thoughts and attempt to flesh out the essays. The writing will undoubtedly be rough, a little raw, and possibly raunchy since I've been known to swear when I get worked up or write poetry.  

It will be an unprecedented output, so if it's too much information or a shock to your operating system (since you've only received 6 posts in the past year!), I won't be offended if you temporarily or selectively stop reading.  

However, if you stay with me, I guarantee we'll learn a thing or two about each other. 

But for the record, I already think you're swell.

Okay, now for our theme song (because every crusade needs one).  You can change the words, "I would walk 500 miles" to "I would read 500 words" and I'll change them to "I would write 500 words".  

If you have no idea what I'm referring to, click here and listen.  Then sing along.

See you tomorrow.