Get ready to jump
As I write this, TMoTH and Mr 13 are watching I Shouldn’t Be Alive. I was going to go upstairs to my desk but both were reluctant for me to leave; I’m not especially sure why but it had something to do with wanting to spend time with ‘their girl’, which is worryingly sweet…. That however is not the point of this post.
On the screen, a team of men on their way to rescue some sailors find themselves in the middle of a perfect storm – and their helicopter is about to crash into the middle of the ocean.
“Get ready to jump,” one of them yells and within minutes they are in freezing cold seas battling hypothermia, major injury, and massive waves. They were cold, frightened, in pain and had no idea if they would be rescued.
I was struck by what an amazing analogy the situation presented for those moments in life when we take a risk or make a determination and have nothing to cling to except our faith and will power. Not for one second do I want to compare a career situation to what those men went through; it was more a recognition that if they could survive that massive storm, I sure as hell can survive my minor one.
I decided a few weeks ago that I needed to commit to my life as a writer – in whatever form that takes, be it fiction, no-fiction, reviewing, blogging – or I needed to walk away. As a the wonderful Kate Alexander once suggested “piss or get off the pot” (those words tend to strike a note when you hear them from someone as elegant and dignified as Kate – trust me). That moment was my moment of ‘getting ready to jump’.
The jump came when I set about committing – and yes there is an obvious joke here but how about we all ignore it. For now. I joined blogging communities, I joined writers communities, I increased my social media presence, I put my hand up to host book tours, I began reading more, I began reviewing more, and yes, I got the manuscript out, blew the metaphorical dust off it ( if only all the dust in the house was metaphorical too) and began typing more.
At times it feels as though I am indeed in icy seas waiting for the next wave to come crashing down on me and that what appears to be rescue lights in the distance is nothing more than my imagination. Then something happens. A review is well received by readers or I pick up an editing client. My badge appears on someone else’s blog or a publishing firm confirms a virtual book tour. I work out the next stage of my novel – or what to do with that non-fiction project that lurking at the back of my mind. My amazing sister surprises me with a beautiful teapot and a canister of my very favorite cinnamon and plum tea – hey life rafts come in a variety of styles…..
I suspect I may have to spend a bit longer in the water and there may be a few more waves to endure yet before I’m back on dry ground but I’m not worried. Well, not too worried – my life rafts are pretty sturdy.
We’ll get back to port …sooner or later.
Warning: information overload
Anyone who knows me, or has been reading this blog for a while, knows how much I love technology and gadgets. This love affair with technology may explain why a fiction writer specialising in romance and Young Adult works as editor of a corporate IT magazine by day, but that’s by the by.
Seriously it’s great that my iPhone can all but wash the dishes for me (the day it can do that, I may well declare undying love to the thing),I love that my electric pink Vaio has become the ultimate travelling accessory, and that I can carry 2,000 songs in my pocket and no, they are not all variations of Thunder Road. And yes, there may be some rumour to the truth that I am currently using three different e-readers (it’s in a good cause, trust me). The point is, in case you were unaware of it, I am an unashamed girl geek.
However, there are downsides to technology. Even I am prepared to admit that – so I thought I would take a look at some of them from the point of view of a writer. A woman writer…. who loves technology.
Big Data
Recently, I was lucky enough to be given the opportunity to interview international BI analyst and consultant, Colin White, about, among other things, Big Data. If you’re not a techno person, Big Data refers to amounts of data (data sets) so big they are counted in petabytes (suffice to say that’s a lot) and are often overwhelming. The issue with this, Colin said, is not so much about volume as it is about our ability to cope with it and extract quality from the quantity.
When we take the idea of huge volumes of information out of the specific framework of IT and apply it to everyday living, it gets a little scarier. After all, at work we can at least send it all to the IT team and forget about it until they’ve performed some magic on it and extracted what we need.
At home, we are the IT team.
A lot of data
And the data coming at us is immense. From the moment we wake up each morning our mind and body are being bombarded with information or data. The alarm clock, the radio, the newspaper, email, text messages, the television, iPods, iPads, iPhones, RSS feeds, Facebook, Twitter, LinkedIn, Sky – the list is endless and that’s not including actual human interaction which also counts as data (and let’s not forget the cats, dogs, goldfish or pet rocks). What’s more, we’ve dealt with most of it before breakfast – or morning tea if you’re particularly sane – which, I have it on good authority, I am not.
All of this overload is overwhelmingly distracting. Speaking for myself, I can spend an entire day dealing with data of this variety and achieve absolutely …. zip. Ultimately I end up feeling anxious, tired, and a failure. The truth is, the only thing I’m failing at is assimilating the huge amounts of data slamming into me.
Proponents of Zen style minimalism are no doubt laughing hysterically about now. Heck, you don’t have to be Zen to find it hilarious. I’m sure the more disciplined, less techno-addicted among you are getting a good giggle. And yes my darling siblings, I am looking at you.
Touching all of us
Well, girls, boys and siblings (because we all know siblings are gender neutral in reality) I put it to you that this isn’t about discipline or technology and that we are all affected by it.
This is about the constant volume of information we are exposed to.
My eldest son was born in Paris in 1992 and back then it took around ten days for photos of the wee bundle of joy to get back to his grandmother and aunts and uncles in New Zealand. When that same bundle of joy got his latest tattoo (hey the bundle of joy is 20, he can do what he likes to his body), he took a photo and sent it to me by pxt. It took less than ten minutes; it probably took less than ten seconds.
My point here is that because information is so easily accessible and transmitted today, it is difficult to dodge it. When was the last time you wrote a letter or went to the library to look something up in a book? When was the last time you didn’t check your phone or your voicemail or inbox… just to make sure you hadn’t missed something important? When did you last walk the dog… without your cell phone in your pocket? When did you last go 24 hours without checking to make sure you hadn’t missed some vital piece of … information.
I know, I know – the kids need to be able to get in touch. That job might come through. The gorgeous hottie from Saturday might have found your number in her handbag. You’re preaching to the choir. I’m a writer – I thrive on information. Research, social media, blogs – gimme, gimme, gimme.
Conditioning
The thing is though, we have become conditioned to need this endless supply of information. We text, we pxt, we message, we skype, we facebook, we tweet, we pin, we link – all so we don’t miss out on the massive volumes of data floating around we need to know about.
Or do we?
Do we really need to know? And if we do need to know – do we need to know now? Some things yes. Most things, probably not. It won’t hurt us or anyone else if we don’t read, respond, or react for an hour… or six. Obviously this doesn’t apply to emergency situations – you know I am not alluding to those right? Right. Just checking.
So what’s the answer?
It’s hard to say. I’m not convinced there is a one size fits all solution. What will work for one person, may not work for someone else. Personally I don’t care if I never actually speak on a telephone again; plenty of my friends find that to be yet another indication of my questionable sanity.
I think the best thing we can do is be aware of the potential for being overwhelmed and have some loose frameworks that help us identify when it is happening and take even minor steps to try and combat the sensory overload.
Tips
1. Be disciplined – And sadly I am not referring to the fun kind. Only check your email at certain times of the day. Set up an auto reply telling people you do this and you will soon find they don’t start texting or phoning to find out why you didn’t instantly return their email. Most of them, I suspect, will be incredibly impressed with your efficiency.
2. Beware the email black hole – I know you know what I mean. You answer an email and move on to the next. By the time you have answered Email 2, a reply has come back from Email 1 – and you reply to that. As it whooshes off into cyber space, you follow a link in Email 3 that reminds you of something you needed to tell Email 2 so you send them another reply. Before you know it, it’s lunchtime and you’re only half way through your inbox.
As a writer, email black holes are the bane of my life. So I’ve come up with a nifty new strategy. I check my email on my iPhone and I file it instantly – if I don’t need to do anything with it I delete it immediately. If I need to act on it (reply, perform an action or whatever…) I drop it in the IMPORTANT folder. I leave it there until later when I deal with it from my laptop. Why deal with it later? Because I can then deal with it effectively and efficiently – if in fact it needs to be dealt with at all. Only if it’s time urgent do I deal with it from my phone. Hey, it works for me.
3. Unsubscribe, unlike, unfollow – anyone or any business that you are not actually active interested in subscribing to, liking, or following. If like me you are something of a social media junky this can be a bit scary – but in fact it’s incredibly helpful. Who cares if they tweet you unfollowed them or unliked them? You’re clearly not engaged enough for it to matter – your time is valuable, use it on relationships and information that add value to everyone, including yourself.
4. Turn off – Yes turn off. Turn off your phone, your computer, your iPod, your iPad, your television, your radio and your alarm clock. Ignore the newspaper. Go for a walk. Bake cookies. Walk the dog. Eat something yummy. Weed the garden. You can head down to the nearest ice cream parlour and eat hot fudge sundaes all day long if you want. I don’t even mind if you say the crazy writer on the Internet told you to. Just take some time out of the information stream for a while – even if it’s only an hour. Trust me, you’ll feel better. And you will find it so much easier to cope with information when you come back to it. Weird but true!
The bottom line is technology is here to stay and that’s a good thing. But yes Virginia even the most addicted among us can get through a day – okay maybe just an hour – without checking in, updating, tweeting, stumbling or linking. It can even be fun sometimes.
I think it’s called having a life…
Image: http://www.shutterstock.com/pic-14799520/stock-photo-abstract-concept-background-for-information-overload-great-as-a-background-or-a-design-element.html
What’s in a name?
Something tells me I’m hardly the first writer to head up a blog post with that title. But hey at least I resisted the urge to use a rose as a pic….And trust me it wasn’t easy coming up with an alternative; I nearly bowed to the cliche but I digress. Yes I know, I do that a lot.
What was I talking about? Oh yes – names. I like to think of myself as being fairly smart; my family suggests that in fact this is a delusion and that I bear more than a passing resemblance to Dory from Disney’s Finding Nemo, but what would they know? I’m not even blue and I don’t sound anything like Ellen DeGeneres. Hmm? Oh right – names.
Oh zat ees not a very common name, hein?
I’m one of those rare people who actually like their name. I don’t know whether I fell in love with France and things French because of my name or if would have happened anyway, but my slightly unusual name in all its forms has never bothered me. Although when I first moved to Paris I did assume I would for the first time ever have an ordinary, garden variety name. HA! People still commented on it everywhere I went – they simply did it French. Go figure.
A name for everything…
So when I started writing, I wasn’t especially interested in pseudonyms. My name would be just fine thank you very much. Right up until I hit a whole other bunch of names – the names of genres. Romance. Horror. Erotica. Sci-fi. Chick Lit. If you think about it each of those labels or names carries with it a resonance and image of what it represents – just the same way our own name does.
Of course what often happens is if a writer begins writing to one of those genres, they become pigeon holed to that genre. Now, there is nothing wrong with that at all. If your passion is romance or sci-fi or chick lit or whatever, then get out there and write, baby, write.
What about me?
What happens though if, like yours truly, you tend to be a little hyperactive (okay maybe a lot) and you don’t know what genre you’re passionate about because you just love words and writing? Then what?
I’ll tell you what – you end up in the middle of a metaphorical snarled fishing line of massive proportions. It is scary how many story ideas I have sitting in folders in Dropbox that have stalled because I’ve woken up one morning either dying to try a different genre or I’ve been paralysed by the fear of actually writing something good, selling it, and never being able to write in a different genre again. Yes there are massive holes in this theory – not the least being that I’m assuming I’ll write something that will be picked up and published – but fear does not care about holes in theory. Fear is just fear.
Eureka
After struggling with this for several years now, two days ago I found the solution. I realised two things in that moment – the first was that the next year is going to be incredibly busy and the second was that maybe my family is right and I’m more like Dory than I thought.
The solution is pseudonyms. You see, I’m one of those people who takes on the identity of the genre they’re writing in. If I’m writing romance, I tend to become floral and romantic. If I’m working on my post-apocalypse piece I get very Sarah Connor – ish. If I’m writing erotica – well, anyway you get the idea. All I need to do is give those identities a name.
Meet the family
So I did. Lily writes romance, Georgia writes erotica, and I write general fiction and YA. And believe it or not – though by now I’m picking you’ll believe it – I have found myself dressing to the identity. Jeans and tee for me, soft pastel, feminine flowy skirt for Lily, leather and lace for Georgia.
The kids just shrugged – they’re used to their mother being weird. The Man of The House is starting to realise there could be definite advantages to this set up. The cats are not impressed. As for me, I’m just looking at the names (and their personas) as another set of tools in my writing kit. It’s all just a case of finding the right one (tool/name) for the job.
By the way…
In case you’re wondering why I chose jellyfish….it’s because although we call them jelly fish their real name is Scyphozoa. If you’re Dory, of course it’s Squishy (I shall call you Squishy and you shall be mine). What’s more, you would be amazed at how many sites exist dedicated to jelly fish – who knew? I got the pic from a funky site called Jellyfish Facts which while cool, has a vaguely disturbing tab labelled Pet Jellyfish……
And so it begins….
So what begins, I hear you ask. Sure you did, it was in between the sip of coffee, the bite of sandwich, and the turn of the page of your book. I heard it clear as a bell.
What begins, girls and boys, is the long, hard slog that is the road to turning things around. Having banished the word but ( I can say it when I’m talking about the banishment – sheesh, you guys are a tough audience) I’ve set about trying to work out exactly how to achieve my goals.
What is the issue?
You see the goals are not the issue. The issue is the strategy for achieving them. For me there are two strategies – the strategy of The Lotus Sutra and the action strategy. The strategy of The Lotus Sutra, which we’re not going to discuss tonight but will discuss later in the week, but can be summed up as faith – although there is a bit more to it than that which is why we’ll come back to it (I’d like to be clear the order is not indicative of the importance – simply of the time I have available for blogging and faith requires a lot more than I have this evening).
Action Strategy
My action strategy is going a bit like this: get up, make tea, turn on laptop, do gongyo (that’s part of the other strategy), go to work, appreciate being at work, appreciate the people I work with, leave work, come home, make dinner, spend some time being Mama,research/ blog/write/actively promote both blogs and work, do gongyo again, go to bed. Maybe, if I’m lucky, spend some quality ‘nice’ time with the man I share my bed with. Or if I’m too late for that (he doesn’t really do late nights), read.
It works
Sound boring? You might be surprised to learn that not only is it not boring – it’s not only helping, it’s actually working. Ha! I knew that would get your attention. First of all actually making the effort to do gongyo is giving my day rhythm, routine and a strong foundation. Doing all the mama stuff, is making me feel happy because I LOVE doing stuff with my kids.
I’m actually engaged in my work. At this stage I’d like to just take a moment to say my issues with my job are less to do with the job and more to do with my frustration with life in general – and in particular with my apparent inability to advance my personal writing career. I’m not sure I can say I enjoy my job – and again this is about me, not about the job or the company – but I am engaged. And that is a very good start, because when I leave at night, I feel quite comfortable dedicating my evening writing time to my own writing.
The result of that, has been surprising. Obviously my word count is increasing (hmmm, spend more time on writing project, see output increase – I could be on to something here….). More importantly I have A Plan (complete with Pooh Bear capitals). I have a clearer – thought not quite sparkly, crystal clear – idea of my work and where I want it to go.
Counting down
All of this is a good sign since I have five weeks left of my deadline – and am beginning to feel as though I may just have found my way off the dreaded merry go round of “I would if I could bu……”
Stay tuned, folks, stay tuned.
Photo: http://www.funnyphotos.net.au/images/dangerous-mountain-trek-through-china1.jpg
Random thoughts before bed
- Can I be Elizabeth Gilbert when I grow up?
- Will I ever grow up? I’m 45 – if it hasn’t happened by now, maybe it’s not going to happen…
- Why are there no donuts in my pantry?
- I own Eat, Pray, Love on DVD (thank you Rachel), in paperback, and on my Kobo – if I get it on my iPhone does that officially make me obsessed?
- I should start a journal – I’m not sure why but I think I should.
- What is that really annoying sound outside the dining room window and how can I get it to stop?
- I wonder if Dennis will make me a cup of tea, if I ask really nicely
- Should I write my journal long hand or online?
- Does this count as a journal entry?
- The chances of me thinking of at least this many random things again the minute I shut my laptop down are pretty high
- Does this mean I should do my journal long hand?
- Exactly how many reviews have I agreed to do in the next seven days?
- Was my brain actively engaged when I made those agreements?
- Is my brain ever actively engaged?
- I have dreadful handwriting – perhaps that means it should be online
- Does Elizabeth Gilbert have ridiculous, random thoughts like this at 9.49 before bed
- More importantly – does she admit to them and put them out for the world to see…..
Dear Santa…
I have been a very good girl this year – honest. Of course our definitions of good may vary slightly….but hey details, details. At the end of the day I’ve tried to be good – and that has to count for something right? (Someone, anyone, help me out here….)
So, my Christmas list.
This year it’s short, sweet, and simple. Yes, I want my family to be happy, healthy and safe. My kids to do well in whatever they choose. People to stop using each other as punching bags. Finally get my book published and yes I realise that might involve me finishing the damned thing first. The usual stuff you want by the time you get to my age.
But this year there are two things I’d really, really, really, really like just for myself.
1 – See Bruce Springsteen in concert. There was talk that he will make it down this way during next year’s tour, then it was announced that it wasn’t happening. And we’re still waiting for confirmation one way or the other. Please Santa – please – and if you think that sounds desperate now, wait till the tour begins up in the States, Santa my friend. Give a girl a break and bring him down for one more concert. I’d love to take my kids to see him, I’d love to see him with The Bear of my Heart. I’d like to hear Promised Land live - one more time.
2 – Interview Bruce Springsteen. Now, Santa, this is obviously related to Number 1, mostly because in order to interview the man I do need to be in the general vicinity and the most likely way for that to happen is for him to be appearing in concert. Logical yes? You see, Santa, I became a writer because of this guy. I wanted to do what he does for me - and Bruce fans the world over – I wanted to paint pictures in people’s heads with words. And from the time I’ve known I wanted to write, I’ve wanted to interview him. He’s 62, I’m 45 – let’s be honest, time is getting short….so Santa, please, I really could use some help here.
Santa there will be chocolate cookies and milk on the table come December 24 – I”m not above bribery. There will be happy children come the morning of December 25 - after all whatever age your kids are why you get up on Christmas Day. And whatever you do leave for me for the coming year, Santa old pal, I’ll smile and be happy.
That concert and that interview though….well they’d really be something you know….
Who stole my month?
The last time I managed to get in here, was October 16. That can’t be possible. It simply can’t. It was last week I tell you, last week. It has to be last week because if it wasn’t…well that means I haven’t done any writing in a month. Yikes.
I am relieved to say, however, that I have been working hard at interviewing and reading. And preparing to launch a new website – but we’ll talk more about that tomorrow. Yes we will, I will be back tomorrow dear reader: I promise.
So what have I been up to for the past month? Well for a start I’ve been turning into a city worker. A what, I hear you ask. A city worker. How do you know you’re a city worker? Oh come on you know you want to know. When I first started working in the city I was - well not shy, more like reserved (they are not the same thing at all….). If the crossing light flicked to green while I was still half way down the block, I just shrugged and waited for the next one. I had the right change for the bus and got a ticket each trip. My phone was tucked neatly away at the bottom of my tote bag with my book and crossword collection, raincoat, and spare cardigan – not to be confused with my handbag which was for carrying things like wallets and spare lipstick. NOW , I carry a handbag in which you easily fit the contents of a small shipping container. In my case it contains notebooks, my Kobo, a mini netbook, an umbrella, my makeup case, roughly a thousand pens (none of which I can find when I need them), business cards, a reusable take out coffee cup. The totebag is gone – replaced by my laptop bag . And of course my iPhone - which I’m usually checking, answering or updating while I’m racing for the crossing despite the light flashing only 17 seconds left. It’s amazing how fast you can run in heels – but I digress. The quiet “one to Ponsonby” as I drop the change in the bowl has been replaced with a frantic swipe of my HOP card as I swing on the bus as it begins to pull away from the stop. I can smack the “THIS STOP” button with ease and confidence, negotiate the rush hour traffic while sipping hot trim white from Esquires and plan the family outing while sidestepping pavement cafe diners. City worker.
Some mornings its exhilarating and fun. Those are usually the mornings when my caffeine intake is through the roof before even leaving the house. Most mornings I get to the office seriously questioning my sanity and wondering when I exchanged any thoughts of personal safety for the thrill of beating the bus door.
All of that said, this is the second night in a row I’ve actually managed to get home and do some personal writing – so could it be….dare I say it….I’m getting the hang of things? That I am actually going to be able to hold down a job AND advance my writing career? Little disorganised me?
Who knew?
Let the ladybugs come
There is a lovely scene in the movie Under the Tuscan Sun where Catherine (Lindsay Duncan) tells Frances (Diane Lane) about being a little girl hunting for ladybugs. Eventually she fell asleep in the garden and when she woke she was covered in ladybugs. Her point was she needed to stop trying to make something happen and let it happen naturally.
I love this concept – stop looking and let the ladybugs find you. Sometimes we get so caught up in an idea, or rather in the excitement it brings out in us, that we end up missing the poor thing altogether. I’ve noticed recently that if I try to ‘force’ my creativity, it just disappears. On the other hand, if I just let them do their own thing, they (and in this case I mean stories rather than ladybugs) are far more cooperative.
The trick of course is to figure out how to let the ladybugs come. In Under the Tuscan Sun, Frances is restoring an old Tuscany villa, and while our house definitely needs a makeover, taking to it with a hammer, paintbrush, and a team of Polish immigrants (look go watch the movie okay? or better yet read the book) isn’t really an option right now. So I have armed myself with new ladybug hunting equipment – movies, music, books, and a variety of pens and notebooks.
I’ve also set up a new writing corner. Notice that I have said writing corner and not Writing Room. A corner and not a room, lower case first letters. A simple table in the living room, near the fire. Enough room for Pinky (my laptop), my phone, and a cup of tea. Not enough room for endless bits of junk – well theoretically there isn’t, though I’m sure I’ll try to create room.
The great news is that the ladybugs have already started to peek out from under leaves. The story idea I had recently has started to flow without me even thinking about it (although I’m a little nervous about what will happen when I start to work with it….) It’s Not That Simple is starting to pull together. I’ve even had a few ideas for some freelance pieces.
I think it’s vital to bring a sense of business organisation to your creative/artistic career, to ensure you keep the framework of your work functioning. There is no point being a best selling *insert word of choice* if you ignore your taxes right? However, that is the framework not the heart of what you do, and in order to allow the heart to function, you must keep it healthy but you can NOT turn it into a machine only functioning on your command. Create but do not force; let the ladybugs come as they will….
Oh and in case you haven’t seen Under The Tuscan Sun, you can catch the scene in question right here: