Tag Archives: Writing

On being productive

Tuesday night I went to one of those meetings of the local computer counter culture. Another attempt to expose myself to another way of thinking, working, solving problems. Kind of like taking a calculus class (and, oh, I suck at math). I’m never very sure going in if I’m actually going to get anything useful out of these meetings, aside from satisfying my curiosity, and in truth I usually end up thinking, “well, that’s not something I can do” (or, at least not until I figure out wtf they were talking about).

The topic was productivity — although the title of the talk was “Scrumming things done.” Yeah, I have absolutely no idea where the term “scrumming” came from (although it sounds vaguely sports-related), or why it applies. But I was probably the oldest person there by a substantial margin, and one of only three women. So. Language barriers kind of go with the territory. [Update -- here's a link to a video that explains "scrumming"]

[Oh, and note to presenters. Acronyms. Not everybody knows what they all mean. If you're going to use them, have a slide with the words spelled out. If you don't want to do this, don't open your meetings to the "public."]

Now. Productivity is something everyone can use a little help with, so I figured I’d learn something. In fact, I had what might even pass for one of Havi Brooks‘s “hot-buttered epiphanies” [Okay, I couldn't find something to link this to, but, trust me, she talks about them.] Most of the guys that were there are software developers/web designers/programmers or closely related species. (Then there was me.)

They all spend a lot of time at their computers writing code, entering data, doing research, reading and writing e-mails, and Twittering. Hopefully not all at the same time. Setting boundaries around tasks, prioritizing, and deciding on time lines in advance is the only way to keep that kind of mess sorted out in a way that can make work flow toward a finished product of some sort. These people really have to manage their time, and there are all kinds of tools available that let them micromanage it if they want.

I realized that the reason I never felt like I was getting anything done when I was working for the Kentucky Division of Water was that I wasn’t doing those time management things very effectively. Why not? Well, nobody really told me I needed to or showed me how. So, why didn’t I already know how? I’d had other jobs…which I started to examine.

I worked at a zoo. Work flow = arrive at work, clean cages, feed animals. Next day — clean cages, feed animals. Next day — clean cages, feed animals. Next day — well, you get the picture.

Then I worked at a lab where we did parentage tests for the Jockey Club, the U.S. Trotting Association, and the American Saddlebred Horse Accociation. There the job was — run gels, read gels; or run gels, make gels, read gels; or run gels, make buffers, read gels; and sometimes run gels, read gels, run more gels, read those gels.

Not a whole lot of need for productivity management tools. That was my epiphany. Not really even so much “hot-buttered” as “oh, duh.”

Then I compared what I do now to the kinds of things they were talking about, and realized that, yeah, I let things distract me from writing articles for my blog, drawing and painting, etc. I check my e-mail, read other people’s blogs, read Twitter, do housework, fritter my time away. Not that doing those things is always bad. In fact it’s absolutely essential to do something else when I lose my focus on some tasks, or I run the risk of making a real mess.

When I’m drawing, especially when I’m working with my colored pencils, I get completely absorbed by what I’m doing. All the internal noise just goies away for a while. As soon as it starts trying to intrude, I have to walk away from what I’m working on. Sometimes I only need a minute or two — I check on the dogs, get something to drink, then I can get back into that zone. But if I dont’t get up, I’ll mess something up.

It’s a little different with writing. If I mess up a watercolor painting, I can sometimes pretend that I “meant for that to happen,” but if I make a big enough mistake on a drawing, it can’t always be erased away without damaging the paper. With writing I can always use some of what I’ve done, even if I chop out huge chunks before I’m finished. Writing is like drawing in that I get completely absorbed, especially when I work with pen and paper, like I often do for first drafts. But when I draw, I don’t hear words in my head. I don’t consciously hear anything. It’s very peaceful. But not something I can sustain all day.

Toward the end of the meeting one of the guys said he felt lucky on days when he got as much as six hours worth of work done. I think he probably gets more done than he realizes. I think we’ve all been programmed to see only certain things as qualifying for “getting things done,” and the rest is fluff. I think a lot of the fluff matters. When I get up from my work table and look out the kitchen window and see my dogs curled up asleep on their hay bails, it rassures me that everything is okay, and I can go back to work or on to the next task. And it may seem counterproductive to do housework to avoid studying for an exam, but there’s always the possibility that you’ll study more effectively in a clean environment. Or should I say cram?…or would that be “scrum?”

Life's little turmoils

The past two weeks have been off-routine for me. I had to skip the Wednesday doggie update, and for that I apologize. Today’s post is also going to be a little off-topic, as I haven’t been working much on my drawing/painting efforts. A week ago yesterday I had a job interview that I spent a lot of time preparing for. I felt great about how I did, and I was on pins and needles all this week hoping to hear that I got the job. Yesterday I got the letter saying another applicant had been chosen.

The feeling of let-down was intense. The job was one that I would have enjoyed — not just something to do to pay bills. I would have been able to learn new things, exercise some of my creative muscles, and not be cooped up in a lab or an office or tied to a computer all day every day. In a word — ideal. But not to be. And that is the way my life has been going for the past several months. I’ve had other job interviews, and thought I had the job in the bag, but no dice. Just when I would get over one disappointment and get back to the “okay, I’m going to make something of this blogging thing and figure out how to make it pay me,” I’d get a call for another interview, and have to get all pumped up about a new job possibility. To say it made me feel a bit schizophrenic would be putting it mildly.

But I have learned some coping mechanisms — many of which involve chocolate. Fortunately for me in this case, the new Star Trek movie came out this week, and the Science Fiction Channel is having a two-day Star Trek “Trekathon.” So I can watch space fantasy while munching on my Oreos. Escapist Nirvana. I also have some writing to catch up on (like what I’m doing now), and a project to finish for my monthly jewelry artists’ guild meeting tomorrow.

Maybe I could become a job-interview-failure-recovery coach. But how lame would that be? After a while, you get used to being disappointed; you almost come to expect it. More lameness. I remember many years ago, my dad gave me a little wooden wall hanging for a birthday gift or something. It had a photo of a cocker spaniel lying in the grass looking all relaxed and cute, with the saying, “Blessed are those who expect nothing, for they shall not be disappointed.” I remember thinking about it for a while and wondering, “is he trying to tell me something?” But he told me he picked it up and thought the dog was cute, so he got it, before he took time to read it and think about it. Anyway, it’s something I’m reminded of at times like this — that there’s some comfort in the thought that, if you can learn to not lower but suspend your expectations, you can blunt the pain a bit.

It helps to have fall-back options, or activities to distract yourself with, if nothing else. It is dangerous to grow overly attached to or identified with a job, or a notion of a job, even. Any more, jobs don’t follow the kinds of traditional patterns some of us grew up with — us Baby Boomers. But I think it’s fabulous to see things start to change like this. I have struggled a long time with the idea that to be a “writer” I have to follow the same path that writers have always followed. I have even been bothered by the “what if no one buys my books and all those trees were chopped down and made into paper for nothing?” That wouldn’t sit right with me. Yes, I really would squirm all the way to the bank. I promise.

But I’ve decided to follow the cyber-publishing path, instead. No gate keepers deciding whether what I’ve written will have any popular appeal. My “audience” can decide directly. Since one of my favorite pastimes is reading, I plan to write a lot of book reviews. With practice, I may reach a point where I can contact publishers and request books to review before publication. That would be cool, and people pay for those things. In the meantime, I will set up ways to make this website pay for itself, and maybe some of my bills, too. I may also have to allow some ads on my site. This is my new job. It is a work in progress.

What if…

After a serious rain delay — like all day yesterday — it looks like more of the same today. I’ve decided to borrow a post from another blog I started some time ago and will probably terminate. At least I can get it published and then unplug the computer. Lightning in the area and all that. Borrowed text follows.

On an odd night some time back, when I couldn’t get to sleep, I started playing “what if.”  As in, “what if I hadn’t done so-and-so twenty odd years ago, and instead had done something else.”  It can be a dangerous, habit forming sort of game, and can end up making you unhappy with any decision you’ve ever made and afraid to make new ones.  But anyway.

This particular what if game actually inspired me to get out of bed and write about it.  And here’s the result, more or less.  I’ve done some rearranging to make it more coherent.

“Oh, the Seventies.  The Eagles and Fleetwood Mac.  Desperado, Tequila Sunrise, and Rhiannon.  Heart.  Dreamboat Annie and Magic Man.  The flight line.

“When I joined the Air Force I hoped it would be my path to a future as a zookeeper.  Instead I got distracted chasing guys, chasing the perfect concert, the perfect high, the perfect song.  Every day I took my heart out and broke it against another guy — like cracking an egg against the side of a bowl.  I was out of my mind.  I had no idea what to do with my feelings.

“And I’m carried right back every time I hear Hotel California or New Kid in Town.  There I am again behind the wheel of my pick-up, driving the streets and highways in and around Phoenix.  Sometimes I wish I could go back and do some things differently.  What if I had just said no when Randy said he would come back to Texas with me after we got out?  What if I had just loaded up my truck with my own stuff and got on with my own life — the one I had thought I had all planned out?”

The next day I started writing a novel about a young woman who joins the Air Force with the idea of using the GI Bill to go to college at the end of the four year enlistment.  The idea was that my main character would do things a little differently than I did.  She would still be on her own when she got out of the military, and she would continue her education, keep her eye on the prize rather than get into a relationship where she ended up submerging most of her plans, as I did.

Over the next few months I got several chapters written, and most of them were like little vignettes, with separate little dramas opened and closed in less than 1000 words.  I had never done anything like it before.  But then, I had never sat down and figured out how to use some of the things that actually happened to me to serve as the basis for a story.  Of course I exaggerated the bejabbers out of everything.  Funny thing, though.  It began to be a story about being in the Air Force, working on the flight line, dealing with the guy thing, more than it was about getting out and having the ideal life as a serious scientist — which was kind of what I had started off to do.

For now, the project is on hold.  I lost my momentum when I started working a part time job in late 2007, and I haven’t gotten back into it.  I have to finish it, though.  I hate not finishing something.

Books about writing by someone who knows

Not long ago I re-read William Zinsser’s On Writing Well, a book that was required reading for the writing course I took through Long Ridge Writer’s Group. This time I read with a red pen in hand to underline key passages and fix in my brain the high points of the wealth of knowledge it contains.  Among all the common sense advice, Zinsser mentions another book he wrote – Writing About Your Life.  I went out and bought a copy.  I thought it might help me with my novel, which is kind of a fantasy memoir about my years in the Air Force.  And yes, it will.

I highly recommend Writing About Your Life to anyone who has even the vaguest notion of one day writing a memoir, whether factual or fictional.  For one thing, it is an excellent example of the genre.  Zinsser has some hugely entertaining stories from his own life that he tells to illustrate how to.  Did you know that his great grandfather, William Zinsser, founded a shellac business in Manhattan and that he still sometimes gets calls asking advice about paints, solvents, and shellac?  Or that he wrote the first, long magazine piece introducing a new comic to the public in the early sixties?  The comic was Woody Allen.

A word that shows up in this book more than once, that some of us need to turn into a mantra for our writing life is “permission.”  Give yourself permission to write your own story, as honestly and authentically as only you can.

Since the format of a blog lends itself particularly well to self-revelation, I would also recommend the book to anyone writing or planning a blog. Unless you are going to have one of those blogs where you tell people how to use a digital camera, train for a triathalon, or walk like an Egyptian, chances are you will be writing about the stuff you’ve done and seen in your life. This book has some great tips on how to bring out the humor, the drama, the suspense in your story, and the personalities of the other people you’ve known along the way.

If you are looking for references to add to your library on how to improve your writing, the first book I mentioned is also invaluable. Originally published in 1976, it is now in it’s seventh edition, and is considered a “classic guide to writing nonfiction.”

I know that spontaneity is supposed to be the heart of the blogoshpere, but as more and more people jump in, it will be the well thought out, consistently well written blogs that people will keep coming back to. At least that will be true for people like me. I notice multiple grammar mistakes, multiple spelling errors, and don’t have the patience to wade through those for whatever gems of wisdom they may be masking. I can find better writing about the same subject on another blog. And I will.

There is a third book by William Zinsser that I also recommend. It’s titled Writing to Learn, and it has lessons for anyone who writes anything on any subject for any reason. Need I say more?

For starters

I have been writing for myself almost as long as I have been able to write.  Sometimes I would let other people read what I wrote, but that’s not why I wrote.  I wrote, and still write, because I don’t talk.

Let me clarify a bit.  I’ll use an example.  I have basenjis.  Basenjis are little African hunting dogs that don’t bark.   Sometimes I’ve told people that and they get this pained look on their faces, like, “oh, those poor dogs.  Why can’t they bark?”  Sometimes they even ask me “Why can’t they bark?” because they don’t listen.  (I’m still talking about the people here.)   I never say “can’t bark.”  “Don’t bark” is entirely different from “can’t bark.”  I think basenjis just have a high “bark threshold.”  They have to be extremely motivated to vocalize in a way that could be described as a bark.   My older basenjis bark like cocker spaniels when they’re waiting for me to put their food bowls on the floor.

I’m the same way.  I’m perfectly capable of running my mouth non-stop until my voice is gone. I’m just very rarely motivated to do so.  As a result, a lot of what I have to say stays unsaid.   Some of it joins other things I haven’t said in my head, and they all have a great party.  Then I write stuff down.

So much of what I was writing down in my youth has been lost because the technology I was using at the time — pen and paper — was prone to getting torn up or tossed out in the various purges I went through while packing up and moving around. Then there was the “new” technology — called a Commodore 64, and things called floppy disks that you can’t put in a current disk drive of any description.

So I’m going to try writing in cyberspace — try letting the party animals in my head come out and play a bit.   From what I’ve seen of blogs and websites lately, my thoughts and I should feel right at home.