Attack of the 50 foot To Do List

The last couple of weeks have focused on my wrangling my ambition with finite resources. The issues are quite simply: not enough time, not enough energy. I can't say I'm winning yet, but I am playing with a strategy that seems to be working. 

I have three different areas in my creative life I am working in at the moment: writing, poetry and art. I am clawing my way up the respective learning curves with dogged determination. This has meant journalling every day as part of the process, however when I do my art, I do a separate journal for that too. My morning pages comes out of an exercise made popular by Julia Cameron in her Writer's Way (which reminds me, I must source another copy of that and the Artist's Way). It is cheap therapy in that I get to dump all the day-to-day, boring shit that's in my head, onto paper where it stays out of the way and lets me get on with my creative stuff. Art journalling, is a more productive exercise in that I focus on what I will be doing that day, the media and exercises. 

In each of the different creative disciplines, I have exercises to do. I am currently trying to do my exercises in the creative activities every day and once that's done, focus on one particular thing. I also am very aware that I need to up my reading. Both in poetry and prose.   My personal reading drifts towards genre, the trashier the better. However, if I am to take my poetry and writing up a level, I must also read more. I have now timetabled Monday as my reading day. 

I find the Pomodoro* quite helpful in getting the exercises done. Bite sized chunks and all of that. It also helps in the fact that, unlike many of the great masters, I don't have a loving wife who keeps the household running as I dedicate my time to my art. Or a housekeeper. Or a gardener. Dave has his hands full right now, but I do know when I am particularly struggling, I can call him to put a pinny on. 

I am also using my To Do Lists daily. I can't tell you how good it is, especially when I'm feeling anxious about my productivity, to cross stuff off. 

My current timetable looks a bit like this: 

Monday: pottering and reading
Tuesday: arting
Wednesday: writing prose
Thursday: writing poetry
Friday: free day

I'm keeping Friday as my free day, simply because I have been doing coffee over the weekends with Dave. Also, if necessary I can always swap Mondays and Fridays about.

I started this new regime after I completed my 5-day art course a couple of weeks ago. It is still too early to tell how successful it is, especially since I was out of action for three days last week (long story, don't ask). The timetable, should work with the two courses I will be picking up in September. Should, being the operative word.

And of course, there's the whole exercise and fitness regime to pick up. You remember I bashed my foot? I think I definitely broke something, it still is a bit sore and shoes can be an issue. Thankfully, it is improving, but it will be at least another two weeks before I can go back to the gym. This isn't a bad thing at all. The enforced rest has helped my knee and wrists and it also means I can get my new regime properly bedded in before I start diverting energy to the workouts. One thing is for certain, I can't do all this head stuff without balancing it out with something physical. I'll burn myself out and go crazy otherwise. 

Are you exhausted reading this? I'm exhausted writing this and it worries me. I don't know how else to get things done. My default position is sofa. I am one of the most bone idle people I know and if I don't motivate myself, my arse hits the sofa and doesn't move. I am using my anxiety to push me forward. I am trusting with experimentation, I'll find the best  way of getting things done that fits me (if you see what I mean). 

Part of the problem is I don't see where any of this fits in my grand plan of World Domination. The future is off in the murky horizon. All I have to go on is the persistent gut feeling that I must do this and I must do this now. 

found this on Facebook today...summed things up perfectly

*time management tool that is a tomato-shaped kitchen timer that marks 25 minutes, plus short breaks and includes a longer break every 4 or 5 Pomodoros. 

Have you seen my Plot?

Procrastination is going well, thank you for asking. I have done a load of laundry, dug out the kitchen, loaded up the dishwasher, done the dishes (that couldn't fit in the magic cupboard) and sorted through my wardrobe (and will be re-homing 3 bags of clothes). Not bad for a morning's work, if I don't say so myself. Unfortunately, I am no closer to coming to a conclusion about my plot. I wonder if I am over-complicating it somewhat? This is supposed to be a paranormal romance, so the focus must be on the budding romance. However, the imprint also demands an exciting plot to go with it. There's a reason why I'm procrastinating and until I can resolve this issue, I'm not going to be able to plant my butt on the seat of my chair and start writing proper. 

*sigh*

Funny isn't it? I've been having a little stress and thought I'd procrastinate by blogging and the act of writing has shown me the problem. Don't you just love this process? No wonder I'm interested in counselling etc, everything goes on at a subterranean level. Clearly, I'm going to have to ease up on myself and slide into the process. Planning an 85,000 words novel is a completely different kettle of fish than writing a novella of 15,000 words, and I thought that was hard enough.

Anyway, I was nominated to do Seven Random Facts about me (that you may, or may not already know), by the lovely Tara, who ironically enough, I met on my first ever creative writing course. 

Seven Random Facts About Me (cause it's all about me)

1. I now wear a nose ring rather than a tactful nose stud. I woke up a few weeks and realised that as I am moving Heaven and Earth not to work in an office again, I don't have to pretend I'm normal anymore.

2. I don't miss TV. Although I have internet, I no longer pay for a TV package. I do however, have NETFLIX and I have boxset marathons of any TV series that takes my fancy. 

3. There are three baby name books on my desk. It gave Dave about two seconds of WTF?! until he figured out why I have them. It gave me two seconds of mirth watching his face. 

4. Much to Boy's annoyance, I still call him a teenager. He's only been able to vote for three years and stopped being a teenager two years ago. My excuse? I'm an ageing parent and he was a teenager for longer than he's been an adult. It's a lot to get my head around.

5. In ten days time, I will officially be middle aged (hopefully). When I look in the mirror I see the signs of ageing: grey hairs and wrinkles. Truthfully, I am excited for the future. While there are people my age who are beginning to think about retirement in 15 - 20 years time, I am thinking about establishing myself as a writer, my training to become a counsellor and whether or not I'll be able to run 5k in sub-30 mins. After 43 years of sitting on my backside, my body is ready to be pushed. My Life is finally taking off. 

6. I am that slightly out-of-step, culture of youth mum. I say "down wiv da kidz" and try to be all current. Boy is kind and doesn't roll his eyes, but I see the amusement in his eyes as I get it ever so slightly wrong.

7. The older I get, the political I become. I am impatient with people on social media who aren't going to vote. I find I am sharing more and more politically themed posts on Facebook and Twitter. I sometimes wonder if I am the only person who ever paid any attention to history when the struggle for socio-political reform was taught. 

By the way, if I was Empress of the Universe, our society would be inclusive. If a person worked 37 hours a week or 16, they would get fair recompense for their labour, no matter their race, gender or gerbil. Fresh fruit, vegetables and meat would be less expensive than junk and processed foods. There would be no tuition fees for university students. The NHS would be the institution it was meant to be, before it was monetised and run down. There would be proper public transport. 

In case you hadn't noticed, I'm an idealist. That can be your bonus number 8. 

Clocks, Calendars and Organisation (or lack thereof)

The clocks went forward on Sunday in the bi-annual attempt to eek out the sunshine in the British Isles. Normally, I grumble and adjust the time on the microwave, car and heating and then swear because I can never remember how to change the time on the oven. This time however, I am completely out of whack. BST has completely thrown my body clock and I find I'm not sleeping and drifting around going "huh?" at regular intervals.

After some contemplation, I realised that it's down to the fact my time is now my own and I don't have any kind of routine at all any more. I used to like my routine. I could look at the clock and know exactly where I was supposed to be and what I was supposed to be doing. There's a certain amount of comfort in that. 

Nowadays, I keep a stricter diary, as in I make sure I write down appointments. I get engrossed in tasks and forget what I've agreed to do.   This week I was going to start implementing early mornings. Instead, I'm getting up later and later as the quality of my sleep has been quite poor. If I don't sleep well, nothing much gets done.

It also means that I don't have specific days when I don't work. When I say "work" I mean doing the creative stuff that might mean research, notes, journalling, thinking, plotting and indulging in creative tasks to fire my imagination. In other words, I am now pretty much working all the time and all hours. Given my reading is as important to my writing and that Netflix has become an integral source of research...there isn't very much I'm doing right now that isn't pointing towards my creative goals.

It isn't a bad thing at all. Except it means that the necessary things in life: food, laundry, pushing a mop around the kitchen floor so Rummy's feet don't stick to it, it's all a bit arbitrary. My bedroom is littered with clothes, both clean and dirty. Getting laundry done is easy, putting it away seems to be a challenge I'm losing right now.  Food is also a bit haphazard. I'm just as likely to eat a bowl of cornflakes as to cook a meal. I was spoiled over the weekend when Dave took the reins and not only fed me with extra, but he also dug out the kitchen. Emptying the dishwasher is also a bit haphazard and as I type this, there's a counter hidden under the pile, taunting me. 

A few weeks ago, I bought compost and seeds and stuff, with every intention to get growing things. The plan was brilliant. The compost is safely unopened, the seeds still in their packets. 

I could go all Organiser on my butt. Establish a timetable and attempt to stick to it. Social media isn't my friend as far as wandering off task. However, I've been resisting the temptation to artificially impose said timetable to experience what flexibility is really like. Apart from the constant whisper in the back of my head "none of this will pay for coffee, face cream and gym", I love it. 

I love being the Master of my own Destiny. After a productive weekend, I took Monday and Tuesday off to a) unwind and b) fight off Boy's cold he so thoughtfully brought back from Lincoln. Yesterday...I can't remember what I did yesterday. My legs remind me I went to the gym and there was some food shopping in the midst of that. Umm...whatever. 

This part of the writing process is slow. The background work will inform the quality of my writing. I was naive to think I could do it as I went along. The 4,000 words I produced in February won't be wasted. I wish I had been able to anticipate the time it would take to get myself better positioned, but there you go. It's all good. Everything is pointing me in the right direction.