12.11.13

Over the weekend, we watched a special on Bloomberg about Jeff Bezos and Amazon. It was fascinating, and I had an interesting takeaway that relates rather directly to my current worldview. 

I'm a numbers girl. I track my daily word counts, (1460 today, by the way) set monthly and yearly goals. At the end of each year, I do a performance review on myself -- looking at the year in review, the year to come, and do some goal setting. I set a rather audacious goal of 300,000 fiction words this year, and I might just make it. 

Three years go, on my 2010 annual review, I put together a five year plan. I've hit every goal on that list, save one, which is underway and will be remedied in the new year.  

That's pretty heady stuff, right? Hitting goals, hitting marks. There's only one problem. Once you hit a goal, there's always another. And another. Gotta do better. Gotta sell stronger. Gotta get higher on the list. Gotta, gotta, gotta.

I've been putting quite a bit of pressure on myself lately - looking at the numbers, drilling down into the nitty gritty of my psyche, really pushing myself harder and harder. And for what? I hit all the goals. And I'm not sure I know what my new ones are yet. So instead of figuring them out, I've been micromanaging EVERYTHING, holding on so tightly I'm surprised some things haven't cracked.

Which brings me back to Bezos. They were interviewing one of Amazon's first 5 employees, the guy who was hired to write book reviews in the very beginning. He was, of course, a major stockholder. And Amazon's stock had a pretty phenomenal run before the collapse of 2008, when it went down to $5 a share. (It closed today down $5, as a matter of fact. To $382)

But when the stock was hovering at the $5 mark, and everyone had lost their shorts, Bezos shook his head and said, (and I paraphrase here)

Don't worry about it. Don't look at the stock price. Worry about what we're doing and where we're headed. Focus on doing the job well. The rest will take care of itself.

I made Randy play that back, because it really struck a chord. 

It's not that I'm worrying about my stock price. But I am worrying about sales. Every author on the planet worries about sales. And now that we have so many places to see our sales figures, or at least extrapolate how well we're doing (hello, irony, AKA Amazon rankings) it's hard to avoid. I mean, our sales determine how we live our lives. Sales feed the cats, the kids, and the monthly nut. They are hard as hell NOT to look at. 

Randy said something very interesting then. "You have to manage to the goal, not the number."

Hear the ringing bells? 

I am a storyteller. It's what I do. It's my job, yes, but it's also my passion, a fifth limb, a true extension of my entire being. Whether the sales are there or no, I'm going to continue being a storyteller. And I'm going to try managing to my goal, instead of to my numbers. I'll continue daily word counts, of course, but I'm going to step back a bit on worrying the business end of things. I have a great team in place, a great book coming out February 25 -- I think it's great, I hope you do too -- and another one due right around that time.  As soon as I finish this one, I'm on to Sam #4. All I really have control over is my product. And that's where I should be focusing my energy. Right?

Macro, not micro. Which is going to make this year's annual review and goal setting very interesting.

Sweet dreams!

12.10.13

It has been quite a day. An ice/snow storm to start things off, which was beautiful, but shot my morning plan to hell, because Randy was home, and it wasn't exactly fair to ask him to tiptoe around and not watch the local news reports on the weather to see when he could venture downtown because I had a PLAN. Which meant I ended up online until he left, but he scooted at 9 or so, and I got down to work at 9:15.

1250 net before lunch. This is a good thing. Dani Shapiro wrote an essay called Gravy, in which she talks about Donald Hall's memoir LIFE'S WORK. He discusses his perfect day, which sums up to he gets up really early and does his work. By 10 a.m., he's finished the creative stuff, and the rest of the day is gravy.

This is my PLAN. Morning writing, no matter what, so I am guaranteed decent word counts. And on days like today, where the disruptions are massive - ice storm, afternoon haircut, wallowing about Christmas - this habit served me well.

Now look away, this next bit is rather personal. 

I bought a Christmas tree this evening. I wasn't going to this year - what with the kittens, and the travel plans, it seemed silly to decorate the house for two weeks. And when you don't put up a tree, there's no reason to do much else. But CC's house was awe inspiringly decorated, like an incredible fancy Christmas shop, and a friend asked how I was handling the kittens with my tree, and I told her I'd forgone the tree, and she mentioned her three kids and why that wasn't an option.

It burned. It did. We don't have kids, but not through any choice of our own. Child-oriented holidays are... difficult. Happily, I get to go to my parents and BE the child, which helps, but it's still hard sometimes. We do all sorts of things to alleviate this externally, with charities and such, but internally, well, I've become a bit apathetic toward Christmas. And Halloween. 

Which is rather stupid, because I adore both holidays. 

Christmas is also difficult because I'm on deadline, every year, without fail, so I don't have the month to dedicate to getting in the spirit of things. It's the 10th now, and I have most of my shopping done, but that's it. No cards written, no carols sung. CBS aired Rudolph the night before Thanksgiving, so I have to stream it. I did buy a wad of chocolate chips and white chocolate chips and candy canes for peppermint bark, and hung my favorite wreath, the felt leaves with the mommy and daddy cardinal, above the fireplace, where it nestles into the tibetan prayer bells I put up for Christmas two years ago and never took down.  

And now I have a tree.

I want to thank my anonymous friend here for her comment this morning. I was shaken, all day, recognizing I was using the kittens as an excuse, a whopping, nasty big excuse, and that the real reason I didn't want to put up a tree is my own apathy, my own demon I need to wrestle with. And the only way to wrestle demons is to face them head on.

Thank you, darling husband, for jumping headlong into the Christmas tree lot on a moment's notice tonight, and helping me pick out a lovely little spruce that looks so pretty in the bookcase corner, Buddha sitting beside him. 

And fuck you, holiday apathy. I am done with you.

Now, where are those lights?

Sweet dreams!

12.9.13

Net 1K today, and now I've got 8 chapters revised out of the 25 I needed to fix. Had a horrible time getting started this morning -- up too late last night, I suspect, so tonight I'll be crashing early. And I had such grand plans for the day, too. 

Net, you notice, which means I had to delete some stuff. I do so despise deleting, but sometimes, you have to, especially when it benefits the story. The story is King, Queen and Executioner in my life, and what I took out today certainly gave what I was trying to do have greater impact. I tucked it away, I will be able to use part of it later.

And of course, as I type this, it hits me exactly where I can use those words, and so I jumped over to the manuscript and put them back in. They'll need to be edited, but -- hurrah! Word count is doubled for the day!

Had the awful pleasure of needing to buy a new chair for my office - my lovely chair has bit the ghost, all the lumbar support is gone. I decided to get myself a good chair. A really good chair. I don't write at a desk, I much prefer my laptop in my lap and my legs up -- it puts the least pressure on my back. I've been looking around half-heartedly, knowing exactly which brand I should go with, hoping something else will capture my fancy. I nearly bought one out in Cali that CC and I found, but talked myself out of it -- the fabric was twill, and the kittens would like that a little too much. Leather is much less likely to impel scratching.

So to the Ekornes store I went. I found the perfect chair, one that's long enough in the seat to accommodate my legs, both straight and folded under me, and tall enough in the back to support my head, and worked out a decent deal, and it should arrive for the new year. I very nearly purchased the purple floor model, but I didn't get a price break on it, so went ahead with the black. I love purple, I do, but I can only imagine ten years down the road, deciding I hate purple and loathing the poor beast.

So in the meantime, Randy will have to put up with me parked in his chair. Sorry, darling!

Have so many things to talk about, will have to save them for later in the week. So I leave you, for now, with ...

Sweet dreams!

12.7.13

So nice to be home. The kittens grew whilst I was gone, Jameson actually growing taller, which tells us we don't have a little cat, like we thought we might. They've both gained some weight, and seem happy and sassy, so clearly Randy did a good job with them this week. They've both been on me all day, draped around my neck and asleep in my lap, so I'm feeling wanted as well. 

Got up this morning, did a bunch of overdo Christmas shopping, settled in at noon to work, then realize my laptop was still on Pacific time. Two hours lost! So I didn't get as much done as I wanted, but I got a start on the revisions I need to make to the first third of the book before I go on to write the rest. 

One of the many things I find fascinating about Catherine is her work set up. Her work computer does not have Internet, and it's in a different part of the house from the computer that does. (She also has the willpower of a General, and laughs at my difficulty keeping work and life separate) I've been trying to decide a good way to handle this, realizing that it's very important not to have the constant siren's call of distraction in my lap at all times. CC has a great, non-connected rhythm to her days, one I effortlessly fall into while I'm there, and quickly fall out of when I'm home. 

This isn't a new problem for me. I'm a laptop addict, though, and can't imagine not having Internet on it - plus I use Dropbox, which constantly updates during the day. Yes, I use Freedom quite a bit, but by shutting my Internet off completely, I don't have the backups.

What if there was another way to create a distraction free environment?

Before Dropbox, I used to email myself the manuscript at the end of each day as a backup.  I had a Sony Vaio several years ago, and I set up a separate user account on it, with parental controls that severely limited the Internet and weren't easily circumvented, and an email account that I could use to mail the manuscript back each day. It worked rather well. But with Dropbox, all I need is a wireless connection, and the work is immediately backed up each time I save.

So I created a new user on my MacAir, took everything out but the wireless, Scrivener and Wunderlist (because I add stuff to my to do list at random throughout the day) And voila, a distraction free environment, sans bookmarks, Safari, and anything else that calls to me through the day.

We'll see how this works. I spent an hour in it this afternoon, and while I was tempted to go back over and check my mail, I didn't.  It's not a perfect solution, but it's elegant and simple enough to try for a while.

I'd love to hear if you have a good hack for distraction-free work time.

Sweet dreams!

12.2.13

There is nothing better than stumbling across a quote that resonates in your head, a moment of clarity, of truth, which gongs like a bell through your brain. I ran across this on the fabulous Quo Vadis Blog yesterday and had to share. 

“Many of us keep diaries or journals full of our individual thoughts, experiences, and feelings. The art of writing out ones thoughts has a therapeutic side to it (as in narrative therapy): in the process of writing the thoughts or emotions are somewhat ‘distanced’ from the “I” experiencing them. There arises a tiny ‘space’ between the ‘I’ and the experience so that we can explore, study, evaluate the experience and its effects more objectively.”

— Dr. Susan Smalley, Professor Emeritus in the Department of Psychiatry at UCLA.  

I've mentioned before that I am not a natural journaler. I try. I buy pretty notebooks, leather covers, special pens. I'll stick to it for a few days, maybe even a few weeks, then I'll skip a day, and boom, I'm off the path. There's something weird about putting all my thoughts, my personal stuff, down on paper. Maybe it makes it too real for me. I don't know.

But what I do like is what Dr. Smalley talks about above. Narrative therapy. Allowing myself a broad scope view of my work, my process, my artistic life.

And it hit me. THIS is why I blog. THIS is why I post these little evening updates. It's a mirror of my creative soul. This has become an important part of my process, these few moments at the end of the day, when I ruminate on my work. It allows me to be present, to gather my thoughts, to assess what's important, and what's working, or not.

Narrative therapy.

"A-ha!" said the writer with the shiny lightbulb above her head...

Sweet dreams!