Reading Deprivation Week Check-In #2

Eleven-thirty on a Friday night, and I just finished a little revision session with my picture book WIP. This is the kind of thing a delightfully deprived girl does. The fun part was that it was . . . fun! Not work-like at all. I hadn't looked at this manuscript in about a week, so the experience had that perspective going for it. But I do believe that my mind is less gunked up than usual right now, which sharpens my Revision Vision. Always a pleasure to do business with that!

Before I forget to say so:

The weekend is about to test my commitment. The weekend and my just-home-from-a-three-week-trip husband, that is.

Tonight was easy to handle because the husband couldn't keep his eyes open much past nine. But I will want to spend lots of time with him Saturday and Sunday, and I think that could take me out of my deprivation element and cause vulnerability. Then again, maybe having him home will make it easier to sail on through. We shall see.

Random observations and details from Deprivation's Depths Dailies (a lame riff on my all-time favorite album title):

• A big hindsight clue that it was time to redo this exercise was my uncharacteristic impatience with absolute nothings related to normal media consumption. Examples—
• An inability to read The Descendants without hearing George Clooney as narrator. (I have not seen the film.)
• Annoyance with distinct types of incendiary political/sensationalized entertainment headlines that made me want to tally examples to support a point I wasn't making about articles I wasn't reading.
• Slower-by-mere-seconds browser performance on the home wi-fi network versus the router connection.
• Newly restricted fast forwarding with On Demand programs.
• Not being able to control exactly how a single thumbs-up/-down tap affects a Pandora station's playlist.

• This week's experience makes me want to read more than I already do. More of the so-called good stuff. But I know that more of that is not "the" more I really need.
• It did not fly, but I spent several minutes attempting to justify watching the movie Young Adult. (It's "work related," people!)
• I made a cool cover collage for my writing notebook.
• Seemingly out of nowhere today, I caught myself singing along with the car radio. Please note that I had NO memory of turning the thing on.
• Instead of the traditional three morning pages, I've been routinely doing five . . . and needing to make myself stop there.
• I've been eating less this week. That wasn't a goal — it has just been happening.

And now, as Day 6 begins due to that technicality known as the time of day, I will end my Day 5 report and see how fast I can fall asleep.

Reading Deprivation Week Check-In #1

It is Day 3 of my deprivation, and I was just this minute blown away to notice that it's almost 9:00 in the evening. I haven't even considered supper yet.

I've been up since 5:00 a.m., which is definitely not my norm. (Six-thirty girl here.) But at 3:20, the newspaper carrier hurled the Seattle Times so hard at my front door that I half-expected to find the paper inside. I shut my eyes back down only to get a pointy dog nose to the face 10 minutes later. The pup replied in the affirmative when asked "Do you need to go outside?", so out into the rain we both went and into the swampy yard, she went . . . and went. Safely back in beds after wiping feet, drying faces, and rearranging blankets, we two girls drifted back into dreamland. But then, at 4:55, a shaving mirror spontaneously un-suctioned itself from the shower wall and crashed onto the bathroom floor, effectively ending the night for good.

After that early start I just explained in way too much detail, what blows me away about the nine o'clock hour-ness of the moment is how super fast this day flew past me.

Day 1 of Reading Deprivation Week did no such thing. That was a long one. I experienced a generalized (yet sometimes quite specific) antsy feeling from morning to night. I mean, I could see the new book I'd just started on my nightstand, my stack of magazines on the coffee table, my piles of research on top of/under my desk, my two waiting Netflix mailers on the banister, and the portal to the World Wide Web every time I looked at my computer screen.

I was aware all day that I'd committed to the deprivation process, but all day it seemed like every single idea I had for what to do next involved reading or watching or consuming. Those ideas flowed. Now — in case you were wondering — this week is NOT about not getting work done. It's not about zero reading. It IS, however, about sticking to the necessities. So on that day, especially, I had to constantly ask myself, Do I need to do this to further my work/successfully live my life today, or this week? Because, wow, were my peepers eager to land on some text (familiar shampoo bottles and nutritional information, anyone?). And, boy, was my trigger finger ever clicky. Click on, click off. Click, click, click — click it Off, click a little more.

Day 2 was easier than Day 1 but had its own standout moments of forgetfulness. Such as my suddenly wondering, Hmm, what's a better-for-this-sentence synonym for imploring? — and then soon realizing that I'd just spent several extra, unnecessary, low-quality minutes searching the online thesaurus.

Or here's one: After knocking off a little earlier than usual for the workday (perhaps because I got more done?), I plopped down in front of the TV — without thinking it through — and thought, Ooh, I never watch television at this hour! This would be a great time to watch that On Demand show from last week . . . no, wait a minute — STOP!!

But like I said, Day 3 has gone fast for me, and that's because a sense of freedom finally set in. I've stayed busy and productive and experienced the added bonuses of constantly bursting into song (I think I did that just once on Day 1 and only a couple of times yesterday), coming up with yummy thrown-together meals, busting out my happy walker's grin even in the ridiculously wet rain, and jotting down and starting to implement the steady stream of ideas shooting out of my brain and onto the pages of my WIP (yippee!) . . .

Four more days to go. That I will continue being tested (and may occasionally slip up) is a given. But now that I'm practically halfway through the week, all I want to do is slow down time to make sure I don't miss a tickety-tockety minute of it.
 

It's Reading Deprivation Week at My House

Tonight, I'm starting my second-annual participation in a self-imposed Reading Deprivation Week — a practice originally described/prescribed in Julia Cameron's The Artist's Way. To better reflect humankind's current state of distractability, Cameron now calls the exercise Media Deprivation Week, and that makes perfect sense. But I am attached to the original title, so . . . there.

What this means for me this week:

No reading or other media consumption beyond what I truly need to do for work and/or to survive. For example, I will read STOP signs while driving. But. No TV, no movies. No talk radio. No podcasts or YouTube videos or audiobooks. No web surfing. No listening to music with lyrics or spending time on nonessential emails. No social media.

Yikes!!!! What's the big idea here, anyway?

Well, the idea is to limit your exposure to the very external influences that clog your brain, take up your valuable time, and get between you and your creative output. Yes, reading is good. But the truth is that sometimes the habitual act of reading the daily news or even great LITrachoor can cause enough of a disconnect between you and your creative self to effectively break down your creative process, leaving you less creatively productive than you could be (at a minimum) or — gasp! — completely creatively BLOCKED (at the maximum)!

Cameron says,  "For most blocked creatives, reading is an addiction. We gobble the words of others rather than digest our own thoughts and feelings, rather than cook up something of our own."

Reading Deprivation Week helps dampen the excess noise so you can hear yourself think and get back to doing what YOU do.

I know from last year's experience that this exercise is difficult at first but then quickly becomes comfortable. Enjoyable, even. The rewards far outweigh any perceived sacrifices. I've actually been wanting to do Round 2 of this for a few months, but one thing or another has made me save it ("save it," I said, not "put it off"!) for the right time.

Turns out, this coming week is perfect for me, and it. I look forward to embracing Deprivation and seeing exactly how it fills me up.

Please do check this space for check-ins throughout the week. I don't know how many times I'll squawk, but I will be sure to post any blog updates to Twitter and Facebook using simple shares that do not involve my engagement. (In other words, I will post and run!) Please feel free to discuss any of it among yourselves in the comments this week. And I'll answer any questions you ask me next week.

And now, without further ado . . .

Let Reading Deprivation Week begin!

End-of-Year Writing Goals

A Girl Writing.  c. 1520. Netherlandish.

I'm trying to stop myself from falling into the old "This year is already over" mindset and see the next four weeks for what they are: WORK weeks that just happen to have two big, distracting holidays thrown in. (You know, for fun. And stress.)

So, my plan is to publicly declare my end-of-year writing goals. If these are in my planner and on my blog, I can't miss. (Of course it doesn't hurt that a couple of the goals are also stated in a signed-by-me contract.)

Before the sun sets on December 2010, I hereby vow to accomplish the following writing activities.

• Weekdays: From 8:30 a.m. (ish) to 6:00 p.m. (ish), I will work on researching and writing the six-title nonfiction picture book series I'm contracted to complete in January.
• Evenings and weekends, whenever I can: I will make clear, measurable progress on my two pet (read: not under contract) WIPs, a picture book and a YA novel. By the end of the month, I will complete a full draft of my picture book and a revised, detailed outline of my novel.
• December 5, 12, and 19 (all Sundays): I will share drafts of my pet picture book with workshop group colleagues.
• December 6 (a Monday): I will wrap up official online discussions for the writing-biz class I've been teaching.
• December 7, 14, and 21 (all Tuesdays): I will finish writing feedback on my workshop colleagues' picture book manuscripts.
• December 13 and 20 (both Mondays): I will turn in the first two of the six nonfiction picture book manuscripts mentioned up top.

Signed,
Me

P.S. For added accountability, I've also shared my intentions over at Cuppa Jolie. Anyone else want to state your goals for December's we-will-write-it cause?

May the Force Be with Me (or Somesuch Thing)

Han Solo, are you there?

Last year I blogged about writing six nonfiction picture books in six weeks. I thought that was ambitious.

Whoa there, kids, hang on a second. I should clarify: I knew that was ambitious.

I'll be wrapping up a book I started yesterday by the end of TOday. (Knock on wood.) (No, wait, that implies it might not happen. Must make it so.)  And then guess what?

Four more books by next Friday the 13th.

Wheeeeeeeeee!

Looking Back, Gearing Up

This was such a productive research-and-planning-and-writing week that — after just one great weekend day — I'm already itching to get back to it.

I'll wait till Monday. Of course.

But I'm still feeling good about all those puzzle pieces snapping together. And I thought I'd better blog it so I can find proof in the next extended moment of writerly frustration (in which nothing goes right and my writing seems like drivel) that I do, in fact, love my work.

Shaking Off the Cobwebs

Last night the dog and I took a stroll, and with every few yards of progress, I batted and spit my way through yet another crop of tightly spun cobwebs. (The pooch seemed unaffected.) A heatwave had emptied our neighborhood parks and sidewalks for a good week or more, leaving the spiders with free rein. (Note that over the weekend, I also discovered webs — and the teeny little spiders that crafted them (!) — in the drying rack next to the kitchen sink. My explanation, and I'm sticking to it: Very few windows in my built-for-the-Northwest house have screens.)

It's still quite warm for our climate, but the heat is much less oppressive now, and the promise of markedly cooler temps starting tomorrow has been dangled. I'm so giddy about the downward trend that I decided to work away from my home office today. Last week, the heat and constant sleepiness were distractions, problems to overcome, heavy burdens to bear/loudly whine about. Today, though, with things looking up I worried that a livable temperature might make me too tempted to either (a) catch up on neglected-due-to-heatstroke household things that I can easily do tonight or (b) answer the siren call of a pretty summer's day, resulting in the need to work on WORK tonight, when I have firm plans to not do any of the aforementioned "household things."

So, I went for a bracing wake-up walk and then whisked myself off for a Workday Wi-Fi Crawl. Free wi-fi implied. It was a terrific change of pace and perfect for the editing work featured as today's main to-do.

At 7:30, I headed to a nearby coffee shop for emails and such over a latte. Most other patrons were headed someplace else, so I scored a comfy chair next to a handy table. Cool! Midmorning I switched to my nearest library branch to do some work-related library-ing before settling down for several hours of quiet, focused editing.

Hungry by midafternoon, I tried a never-busy dive lunch joint I knew to offer wi-fi (to which I've always said, "Who would use that here?"). Worked out fine! Then, to finish out the crawl, I grabbed a cold tea and headed to a shady, wi-fi-equipped park close to home. I sat at a picnic table facing a lake and was surprisingly productive there, too. Nobody was swimming or even stirring until around 4:30 — and by then it was time for me to get home.

Tomorrow will be business as usual, as usual. I truly do prefer to work in my office at the big-girl's computer. (That doesn't sound quite right, but neither does "adult computer." I'm comparing my large, tricked-out desktop machine to my small, just-functional-enough laptop, okay?) But today sure was lovely. The change of scenery/pace cleared my web-filled brain and renewed my weary spirit — and I look forward to tomorrow's nothing-special workday with — yes, I think it's true — happy anticipation.

Four Down, Two to Go

I passed the halfway point yesterday in my "Six Books in Six Weeks" marathon. That felt good. Still does today, in fact.

It helps that the books share a global theme — that makes both the research and writing processes more efficient. It is wearing, though, to finish a manuscript one day (last night in this case) and then get right down to business on the next installment at wake-up. But the switching-gears part takes a minute no matter what kind of work you do.

I spent the first half of today on administrative tasks like invoicing, filing, stacking the library books I need to return (making sure to remove ALL Post-its so I don't get another mean warning!), and tending my embarrassingly overgrown email garden. It required very little quality thinking yet yielded a bonus sense of accomplishment.

And now, with lunch out of the way and no further ado to be had, on to Book 5 I go!

BIC Monday!

Today is just one of those days it's HARD to sit at the desk and write. I like what I do and how/where I get to do it. Most mornings, I feel settled and ready to go. But I had a ridiculously fitful, freaky-nightmare-fueled Sunday night, and the effects have carried over. I'm blaming my new pillow.

I have a Tuesday deadline, so I will persist and prevail. Happily, that manuscript is on track, though, even as I struggle to kick into gear this Monday morn.

Nothing to do but keep the butt in the chair and press on.

Grammy Tie-In

Um, hello? What does this have to do with writing or freelancing or children's publishing?

Very little.

Except that I'm rooting for the only nominated music/artists I played in my office this past year: Raising Sand by Robert Plant and Alison Krauss.

I'd say that 92 percent of the time I can't work with music playing. My brain is wired to engage with it too fully, so out of necessity Quiet is my preferred background for writing and editing.

But, the other 7 percent of the time (no, wait, 8 percent; see? I'm cranking the tunes right now!) — when I need some tuneful inspiration, manufactured calm/pep, a thinking break, or soundtrack for doing administrative tasks — I fire up some music.

Raising Sand has been a regular office buddy. It's so rich and creative, with — I think — a beautiful literary bent. So I hope it wins album of the year and also for the gorgeous "Please Read the Letter," which, incidentally, would be a perfect theme song for a YA novel idea I've outlined and hope to start writing sometime this year.

Juicy Advice

Tip of the day:

Resist the urge to lunch on grapefruit at your desk.

It might be a good idea to down some citrus as you try to pretend you didn't eat quite so many cheesy-dippy Super Bowl snacks. But don't do so at your desk hoping to save time as you cruise along toward Tuesday's — or any day's — writing deadline. It won't work.

Don't believe me? Just go ahead and see if you can actually type . . . or read . . . or even surf while stabbing and slurping your way through a plump, juicy Ruby Red. If you're like me, you may even lose a little precious writing time to the clean-up. Keyboards, monitors, and manuscript stacks don't dig the juice!

Office-Job Envy

I've said it before, and I'll say it again (and again). I love freelancing. Taking my business full-time 5 years ago is one of the best decisions I've ever made. It's rare for me to think wistful thoughts about being back in an office. But today is one of those days where I'm struggling with extreme Office-Job Envy. Why? For the simple reason that I know I would have taken this week OFF. As in, no working period. No guilt about down time or family time or personal time. Instead, though, I am struggling to stay productive and focused on my several remaining 2007 deadlines.

Publishers love to collect as many projects from freelancers by the tail-end of the year as they can. It's nothing new, just tradition. Now, I know the same thing goes on in-house: writers are scrambling to pass copy to editors; editors are scrambling to move manuscripts into designers' hands; and on and on and on. Worker-bees/departments/companies in publishing and every industry want the decks cleared for a fresh start on January 1.

It's just that as an expendable freelancer, I often can't afford to schedule my breaks exactly when I want them. Yes, my days are my own to structure as I wish. But to make a living at this, I have to make myself available when it suits the clients. I have far less input — usually none — into any schedule (besides saying "No, can't do it" and waving good-bye; something I do on occasion) than office workers who can jockey for those last gulps of conference-room oxygen and better project schedules than their in-person colleagues. So, if I really want to work on a given project, my schedule must be more flexible than the client's and the nameless, faceless next writer-editor on the client's contact list.

Whine over. I'm happy for the work. Really, I am. I'm just sleepy from too many sweets in the house and a cold rain that's keeping me from a brisk "shake it off" walk. All the out-of-office autoresponders coming back to me aren't helping, either, but at least I don't have to fully engage with anyone this week. Big plus! The only thing left to do is completely erase from my mind that my husband is "vacationing" upstairs. And to start thinking ahead to my next dedicated block of vacation that I hope doesn't pan out due to loads of great work I coudn't bear to turn down.

Mixing It Up

I am a creature of habit. I keep regular office hours and follow a fairly predictable routine. Doing so helps me stay focused and productive most of the time. But the last several days have been filled with every task but writing, or anything creative for that matter. And it started getting old. My must-dos included

• invoicing/bill collecting
• submitting project bids
• following up on planned-but-not-scheduled projects
• troubleshooting issues with EFA's spring classes
• addressing glitches with my printer, desktop keyboard, and laptop battery . . .
  

Ahhhh, the writing life. Yes, I am my own boss and can do what I want, when I want. (Yippee!) But what I want — at least until I become independently wealthy — is to operate a profitable business. So, in addition to writing, I also serve as my own Finance, R&D, HR, PR, and IT departments. That doesn't bother me in theory or even in practice. But dealing with all that stuff to the exclusion of writing was wearing thin. I thought yesterday seemed like a good day to just mix it up and see what happened.

Here's what I did and how it affected me:

• Kicked things off with a lunch-like breakfast of — get this — egg salad. (Not bad!)
• Skipped my first-thing ritual of managing email, browsing a favorite discussion group, and skimming online news headlines over coffee. Had the coffee but got right to work. Did so, gasp, before my shower.
  
• Shocked myself at how insanely productive I was for the next 3 hours. Decided to pause that favorite online discussion group so that I can't log on for, double gasp, two weeks.
  
• Popped in a fitness DVD. Normally, I'd do that before or after work. Fully participated in the workout. Endorphins were released and stress was relieved. The 70s music I played in the background brought up story idea after story idea after story idea. Each song triggered intense memories and feelings from my youth — the increased oxygen surely enhanced the effects. I conjured young characters, realistic settings, childhood dynamics, and timeless story conflicts. (I assign music-association exercises to my writing students, and they never fail to inspire.) Some pure fun was had during regular business hours!
• Walked Asta, my office dog. Made her don a raincoat (hey, I'm not cruel; it was raining; kinda funny, though, eh?). Took one of our favorite paths but reversed the direction. Asta did not know what to think! Left the iPod at home. Enjoyed the reverse sights and tried to keep from talking to myself out loud. (Usually, I'm trying to keep from singing.) Tried to but couldn't shake a stick at all the writing/business/life ideas swirling about. Picked a couple of early-blooming camellias from the shrub outside my front door. Stuck 'em in a vase for my nightstand.
  
• Showered. Had a quick lunch while furiously jotting down some of the keeper thoughts I'd shaken loose from dormant corners of my brain.
  
• Slogged for 2 hours, then stopped to clean the kitchen. Made a doggie casserole. Did prep work for the big salad I ate later. All the chopping, mixing, pot tending, etc., kept my mind blank enough for some great problem solving.
• Served the doggie dish to a very surprised pup. It's the food she gets when she has been sick and needs a bland-diet break from her kibble. She could not beleeeeeive her luck at receiving this dish while feeling healthy. "Mixed-Up Day tomorrow, too, please," she hopped and wagged. Thought about how to incorporate some of her behaviors into future dog characters.
  
• Worked for about 2 more hours. Finished everything on my list and then prepared for today's tasks.
  
• Shut off the computer for the rest of the evening. No emailing, no Googling, no surfing. Read in the bedroom and realized that I had worked in the dining, living, and family rooms today, but had not so much as peeked into my office. Cool! Asta — who tends to act out of sorts when the daily routine is changed — sported a contented greyhound smile all night. Spent a couple of minutes on the floor with her looking at the room from her perspective.

Yesterday was unconventional, but it worked. I worked.

Today I went right back to my regular schedule, but let me tell you something: I felt rested, clear-headed, energized, and eager to tackle the day. And tackle it I did. I knocked out a 750-word article, and I took a little time to work on the outline for a muse-inspired YA novel I've been kicking around for a while.

Mixing it up for one day was a huge success. Can't wait to try it again sometime. You?