Hard Work

I'm still pretty well worn out from National--I slept 14 hours in the last 24, and I'm still not caught up--so no lengthy screed here, but I wanted to say something while I was thinking about it.

Quite a few people at National thanked me for all my hard work on workshops this past year. I think I wigged a few of them out by saying I didn't work hard. The thing is, I'm not sure "hard work" means the same thing to me that it does to everyone else.

To me, hard work is anything I don't want to do, anything I find unrewarding or unpleasant. Chairing the workshop committee wasn't any of that. It was something I chose to do because I thought it would be one of my favorite things, a combination of big picture and important detail (it was) and because I thought it would be rewarding (it absolutely was).

Did I put a lot of time and effort into chairing the committee? Absolutely. Did it demand a lot from me in terms of time and focus? Definitely. But it wasn't hard work because I loved doing it.

So that's the deal: if I love doing it, it's not hard work. It can be demanding, frustrating, challenging, exhausting...but it won't be hard.

Connections

I thought for sure the last post would be the last post until I got back from RWA National and yapped like a fiend about everything that happened.

But then I went online and I checked my friends' blogs, and read their new posts, and I was overcome by a wave of love, because I will be seeing my friends in just over 24 hours. I am a happy girl.

That makes me think of some news that came out recently, something to the effect that people are now very isolated and--from what I could gather--going online was blamed for this isolation. I will confess that I didn't read anything more than the headlines, mainly because the little I saw just baffled me.

If it weren't for the Internet, I wouldn't know most of my dearest friends. I wouldn't have found my community--other writers, especially women writers--and my life would not be as rich as it is. Do I know my immediate physical neighbors? Yes. Do I feel the same connection as I do to my fellow writers? No.

My relationship with my neighbors is fairly superficial; I don't open up the depths of my mind and heart to them the way I do to my scattered-across-the-country friends. I open up to those I feel will truly understand me, and that's not how I feel about my neighbors. For the most part, our only point of contact is that we live in the same place, which (for me) isn't enough compatibility.

Of course, physical proximity does matter. It matters that I can imagine my friend's faces when I'm e-mailing to them, and it matters that when I read their e-mails to me, I hear their voices in my mind's ear. I wish we all lived closer to one another (the only way we could be more scattered is if someone lived in Alaska and someone lived in Hawaii), but since we don't, I treasure the chance to see them when I can.

And now I really do have to pack, so that I have clean clothes when I see my friends once again.

Traveling Tension

I'm kind of itchy about my carry-on, wondering how much stuff I can cram into it and still be able to carry it on.

The rule about the carry-on is that its primary function is to carry the things I couldn't easily replace at my destination. For example, my prescriptions all travel on the carry-on. So does my make-up--I'm sure they have MAC and Clinique where I'm going, but the expense! Yowza--I do not want to have to replace everything all at once. Everything else--shampoo, face soap, moisturizer--can be purchased at the other end if need be.

Then, a good friend of mine convinced me it's a good idea to bring one change of clothes with you, in case your suitcase wants to take the scenic route to your destination. I'm waffling on that one for this trip--it's a non-stop flight. Which doesn't mean my suitcase won't take a tour--it just means that if it does go a-wandering, it could only leave from one place, Boston. (Unlike last year when--if my suitcase had disappeared--it could have left from Boston or Denver.)

I'm also at the juncture when I'm absolutely convinced I'm going to forget something. Why not? I forgot twice tonight to check the airline's website to make sure my carry-on isn't too big. Sure, it went to Reno with me, but that was a different airline. (I checked; I'm safe.)

I'm sure this time next year I'll be sorry I'm not going to RWA National, but tonight I'm thinking the lack of stress will be blissful.

~ * ~ * ~

On a side note, I figured out how to get the ivy in every post. If you're using blogspot, it's really simple--go to the Settings tab, and choose Formatting. At the very bottom, there's a post template. I just copied the code from one of my previous posts into the box and saved it.

I didn't expect to be able to do this, but I got to poking around, and the thing I tried worked. Happy, happy, happy day.

Ahhhhh....

Now it's set. Now it's done. This is the look. I'm very pleased.

Well, mostly pleased. I haven't figured out how to tweak my template so the ivy shows up in every post, exactly where it is, without my having to hunt it down every single time. But I'm determined to figure it out (and I actually just got an idea).

There's nothing quite like that feeling of, "This is exactly what I wanted." That, "aaahhhh, yes," feeling. I can be oblivious to my surroundings, but when something catches my attention, especially in a negative way, it really catches my attention. That's what happened with the look here--like I kept saying, it was bugging me.

And now I've fixed it. Yay me.

Experimenting

I'm still experimenting, still playing around, still trying to figure things out. I want to use the image to the left here as a background image, but I haven't figured out how to do that. In the meantime, it'll just be up by all my posts. It ties into the fantasy, which has to do with green growing things, and green and blue are my favorite colors, so there you go.

And now it's back to work on RWA National stuff. [Sigh.]

Not Quite Perfect

This morning, I got to thinking about perfectionism, about what it is for me, and why it's not a good thing.

The big thing is that perfectionism and a passion for excellence are not the same thing at all. Wanting to do things well doesn't make me crazy; perfectionism does. For me, perfectionism is an expression of fear: if I don't do something perfectly, Bad Things, Very Bad Things, will happen. So I get tense and a little freaked out. I also lose all sense of proportion--perfectionism doesn't let you look at the whole picture, so context is nonexistent.

Perfectionism is my great bugbear, the beast I will wrestle until I die. I'm getting better at taming it, at easing its grip on me, but I'm pretty sure it will come back as long as I live.

Oddly, its recurrence helps me learn the lesson that things don't have to be perfect to be excellent. Perfection in this instance would be to get rid of perfectionism and I know that won't happen. Excellence, however, lies in increasing skill at managing perfectionism. I can look back and see I do a better job of containing this monster than I did last year, and even better than the year before.

Pursuing excellence, on the other hand, is free of fear. Pursuing excellence means giving the task at hand everything I have in terms of effort, skill and focus, being completely in the moment, barely aware of myself, oblivious to all my anxieties. When I'm in that mental place, mistakes are not really mistakes--they're blessings, doors onto paths I might not have found otherwise, insights that might not have come any other way.

Chasing excellence brings me joy, chasing perfection brings me pain: maybe all I need to is remember joy.

In case you haven't noticed...

...(but how could you not?), there's a bit of redecorating going on here. As I said before, I wasn't happy with the old look. Tonight I snapped. Snapped enough that I don't care that it's not a polished, finished thing. I'm hoping you'll bear with me while I try to figure out how to set this up so that it reflects what I want it to reflect. So it looks like me.

Persistence, the mother of everything

I like being strong. I just needed to say that.

I can remember when it was a struggle to press 12 lb. dumbells and curl 8 lbs. Today, I pressed 15 lbs. and curled 10 lbs. In each instance, it was work, but it wasn't that wring-me-out, leave-me-wobbly struggle it once was.

I like that. I like that I can tell I'm getting stronger. I like grasping my arm and feeling the firmness there. I like pushing myself, both for the challenge and the success. I like the fact that I still went to the gym this morning, even though I had to fight myself to do it. I'm glad I didn't give in to the temptation not to go.

I got myself there by telling myself I didn't have to work that hard, that I could just go through the motions, because going through the motions was still better than not going at all.

Someone once said 90% of the battle is just showing up. It's hard to believe that until you start living it. If I think of everything I should do when I get to the gym, I can become overwhelmed. But if I think, "Just get yourself to the gym and see how it goes," that's all I need to get going. Once at the gym, 20 reps for my abs become 50, and the 8 lb. dumbells become 10 lb., and the "I'm not doing legs today" becomes squats or lunges.

The thing is, according to my trainer, the reason I'm appreciably stronger is not because of how hard I work when I go to the gym, it's because of how consistently I go. I work out three times a week, roughly an hour each time, week in and week out. That's what's made me strong.

I'm trying to learn to do the same thing with my writing. Just show up every day and do what I can. Some days, I'll start with the intention of just going through the motions; some days I'll be excited and fired with ambition. It won't matter which%

Too restless for bed

I'm too restless for bed, though my eyes hurt because I'm tired. I don't think I'm restless for any particular reason...but I lie to myself on a regular basis, so who knows?

I gave myself the whole weekend off--no scribbling of any kind, whatsoever. Yesterday was my usual jaunt with my sister, running some errands to get ready for RWA National in Atlanta (which begins week after next). It feels like the calm before the storm right now--I have about a million things to do (including packing) but most of them (including the packing) can't be done quite yet. Maybe I'm restless because I'm afraid I'll forget stuff.

Maybe I should start a list.

I need lists just to keep track of all the details. I make a list of everything I intend to pack and I make it in advance. I once went on a cruise and forgot to pack shoes, so I do not trust myself to be able to look at the suitcase, think, "Something's missing. What?" and then successfully figure it out.

It's pretty likely I'm going to disappear for the next few weeks. First, there'll be getting ready for National, then I'll be at National, and then there's recovery from National. I'm thinking about taking the NEO and keeping a journal, with the idea of (maybe) posting it here when I get back. But I don't know--I'm so afraid of losing the NEO. (This is why I don't have fancy jewelry--I don't want to lose it.)

I'm thinking too much. I need to go to bed.

P.S. If you're in the Atlanta area, and would like to say "Hi," I will be signing copies of my second book, Lord Sebastian's Wife, at the massive booksigning being held as part of the RWA conference. The booksigning is from 5:30 PM to 8:30 PM on Wednesday, July 26 at the Atlanta Marriott Marquis, 265 Peachtree Center Avenue in Atlanta. Many and many are the terrific authors signing there; click here for a complete list of all the authors (as of 6/1/06). Publishers donate the books and all the proceeds from the signing are donated to literacy charities, which I think is exceedingly cool.

The Wall

Okay, so there's a not-so-bright side to the productivity. First, my little fingers aren't used to so much typing, so they're sore. (Which feels funky, but there you go.)

Second, the well runs dry. I didn't realize it could when you were just noodling, but I found out today. I was working on a main character biography, trying to tell the whole story from his point of view, when I just slammed into a wall. I could not for the life of me figure anything out. Invention completely gave out, collapsing on the side of the road, jelly-legged.

So tonight I'm going to rest. I'm not going to think about my story at all. I'm going to read and putter and just relax. I'm hoping the Girls in the Basement* will work on what I can't figure out on my own, so that when I come back to this, the answers will be there.

*For more information on the Girls in the Basement, see Stephen King's On Writing. His are Boys. Mine are Girls.

Happy Day

Okay, it's been a week, and I love my Alphasmart more than ever. It's completely changing my writing life.

It's compact and light and it didn't cost nearly what a laptop would, so I'm willing and able to take it with me everywhere and anywhere. And that means I can work everywhere and anywhere, and I can make use of what used to be downtime. (Like now, as I ride the commuter bus home from the day gig.)

That means I'm working, at least a little bit, every day. Right now I'm using Randy Ingermanson's Snowflake Method for Writing a Novel to try to get my story mapped out. It seems to be working--for the first time in my writing life, I have a plot that rises toward its climax and resolution with a tension you can feel--but there are tasks to be completed, and I keep tripping over what I don't know yet.

Before the Alphasmart, when I tripped over the unknown, I'd freeze, utterly intimidated by what I didn't know. Now, not so much. I'm comfortable sketching things out, noodling with ideas that I might keep or discard. It's faster than longhand, but it's less serious than using my PC...or something like that.

Plus, there's that work anywhere, any time, thing. I did a whole bunch of work this morning on the bus into work--I'm pretty sure I got a solid handle on a secondary POV character who was eluding me, and that work gave me the idea of writing my characters' biographies, telling the events of my plot from that each person's perspective. I think that's going to really help my characterization, which will make my story richer, and--because of the Alphasmart--I'll be able to work on the bios anywhere.

Life is good.

Library Lovefest

I love the library. I can't say that strongly enough. I think the public library system in the U.S. is one of best things ever, a great and stupendous gift for which I cannot be too grateful.

Naturally enough, this paean is inspired by a visit to the library. A flying visit, to check out two DVDs and a book I had reserved. The library system I use has an online catalog, so I can look things up anywhere I have an Internet connection. If the book or CD or DVD I want is at my local branch, I can go get it--the online catalog pretty much says where everything is, so I can head off to the library knowing where I'm going.

On the other hand, if the material I want isn't at my local branch, I can request it, still on-line. How easy is that? I can check to see the status of my requests online, too. (For example, I'm 66th in line for the newest Nora Roberts.) I can tell when books are in transit from a different branch; I can tell when they've arrived. But even if I didn't check, I'd still know--I get an e-mail when the items come in, telling me they're ready.

But that's mostly gravy. The really cool thing about the library is that it encourages me to try new things, new authors I might not otherwise try. Even if I had all the money in the world to buy all the books in the world, I don't have room to store them all...and not all the books I might want to read are in print.

But even out-of-print books live on in the library. Classics and bestsellers and oddities I might see when I was looking for something else. Sometimes I'll go to the library with a couple of vague ideas about what I want, and I'll wander around the stacks, picking up everything and anything that catches my eye.

I don't love everything I find this way...but I love a lot of it. How great is that?

So raise a glass to the public library, one of the best things ever.

My new, darling toy

My beloved, who is beloved for a reason, bought me a present this week, and as of this moment, this is almost the best present he's ever given me. (I was going to say "the best" until I remembered the PC he bought shortly after we got married, the same PC I used to write my first novel. I can't imagine anything that will top that, especially since I didn't think we could afford one.)

It's an Alphasmart NEO. Basically, it's a keyboard with a tiny screen. It weighs a couple of pounds (which is nothing, as far as I'm concerned), it runs on AA batteries, and it was originally designed for elementary school use. Which means it's pretty durable. It's perfect.

I've had it since Thursday, and I can already tell the difference in my productivity, because I can take it anywhere. For example, I'm typing this blog entry on it, sitting in the living room and listening (kind of) to the Red Sox game.

The screen on it is around 5" wide and 2" high, so it's not like you can see a lot of what you've done. There's something about this that frees me up--I don't know what it is. But I love it.

I've known about the Alphasmart for years--it seems as if almost every writer I know has one...and loves it, because of that portability thing. I wanted one, but I thought I couldn't type on a standard keyboard. (I generally use a natural keyboard.)

But then I started shopping for a laptop. And I figured out that I can type on a standard keyboard. In the end I didn't get the laptop--there were things about all of them that made one not quite right. Especially since all I really wanted was something I could use for writing.

Which brought me back to Alphasmart. I'm so glad it did, and I'm glad my beloved listened when I said, "I want this."

Loading the text I type is easy enough--I connect the NEO to a UBS port, open the document I want the text to go into, and hit a button. The text "types" into the document, easy enough. The other thing I like is that the letters I type are saved as I type them. When I exit a file or shut down the machine, nothing is lost.

Happy days.