Archive for the ‘General Writing’ Category

Since Friday, I have been thinking constantly about focus; how to focus and what to focus on. I’ve actually had a hard time focusing on focusing.

I’ve got so many different projects going on at the moment that I’m starting to sink. In the corporate world I was known as the juggler – the girl who could take on a million projects and balance them all perfectly and produce the utmost satisfying results. Yet now with all my projects, I’m disorganised, overwhelmed, confused and for the first time falling behind.

This morning I realised the reason why I’m not balancing everything as well as I did at my corporate job is because with writing, everything seems important to me. Every task I feel is the most important and deserves all my attention. Each project that I take on I am passionate about and so all my efforts go full throttle into each and every thing I do. In the corporate world, not everything mattered so not everything got the same level of importance, therefore it was easier to prioritise.

So today I was trying to figure out, out of everything I am doing what is it that I really want to do. What area of writing is important to me? The area I’ve always wanted to write in most is in travel because that is my passion. But I haven’t been sure how to go about doing travel writing so instead I focused all my writing efforts elsewhere.

Elsewhere ended up being a very big place. I wasn’t sure where to focus my efforts because nothing struck me as the one area I wanted to write for, so I wrote for every place and became overwhelmed.

I thought I had given up on travel writing for the time being, but it has always been in the back of my mind and today, I realised that I’ve actually done little bits to put me in the travel direction.

I’ve planned a trip this month to write about, I’ve planned a summer trip to write about, I’ve been working on my travel portfolio and I’ve been finding magazines to write for. I’m giving a talk on Thursday about travel and adventure and I was even bold enough to email a hotel I am staying at and told them I was a travel writer and requested a “media package” to help with my article.

All this travel writing has been done in my “free time” as though it was a hobby, yet that is the area that I really want to work in. I don’t know why I did that. Perhaps I thought I should continue with the inspirational writing that I’ve done because that’s all that I used to do and people like it. Perhaps it was scary for me to try a new direction or do something that people weren’t ready for. Maybe I was afraid of a challenge – I’m not sure.

But today when my media package arrived, I was giddy down to my toes. I was excited, I felt like a real travel writer and my mind started to focus on what to do next, how to write about travel and the possibilities that all this can lead to. It made me feel happy and it made me feel like I’ve found the area that I want to be in.

So then, I’ve decided to focus my efforts into my travel writing. Since much of that kind of writing can only be done once I travel, I decided that in the meantime I will continue to write articles about the ordinary being extraordinary. And when I’m not writing about that I will continue to promote and work on the Another Girl at Play site.

I figure that makes my plate all about full – but I think I can finally chew it all because I now understand each bite.

The past several weeks I haven’t done much of anything. I had a good excuse for a couple of them but it was the other couple of weeks that left me worried.

I had all these ideas and ambitions, yet they remained just that. I wasn’t sure which projects to start on next – should it be the website, marketing, business side, articles, what? I was overwhelmed again and taking time off had left me feeling lazy and sluggish.

Oh no, I keep thinking, just when I was getting my stride I break it.

Of course, by not doing what I was capable of I was angry at myself. I tried the tricks that I knew of and nothing was working. Last night it dawned on me why.

I didn’t have focus.

I was all over the place with one point five million things running through my brain. I didn’t know what was a priority, what could be done next week and what really wasn’t too important.

So this morning when I woke up, I thought if this is my business, I better start treating it like one. And I began to sort out what I need to do.

While I was doing this, Claire sent me her profile for the Another Girl at Play site. I read through it and found direction from her words. She said, ” An older woman who has had a lot of success running her own HR consultancy told me that no matter how busy I am, or how much work I seem to have coming in, spend one day a week marketing. Take Fridays to work on mail outs, update websites, chase up potential clients and make new contacts.”

Perfect, I thought, direction!

So today I decided to put my efforts into marketing and updates. I updated all my sites, finally launched the Another Girl at Play site and completed the first newsletter as well as worked on the Press Release. I updated this site with new news and book readings. I even worked on creating my business cards finally and read through the book Six Steps to Free Publicity again. I caught up on some important emails, read through Writer’s Yearbook and selected potential markets. I redid my bio and portfolio and felt pretty good at three o’clock when I took my first break for tea.

Because I am so nonlinear and my head constantly swirls with ideas, it is hard for me to focus. I realise that for me to succeed and continue to work and grow, that I must focus and organise myself better.

At least I have Friday’s figured out.

Language. It ain’t easy.

I have lived in four different English speaking countries, which one would tend to think would make life easier. It doesn’t.

With writing now I am confused so much when using certain words. Is it spelt with a “s” or “z”? Should I put realise or realize. Is it traveler or traveller? Do I use the word rubberband or elastic? Felt or marker? Pop or soda? Cheque or check?

I know that if I’m writing for an American magazine, I should spell the American way, but the problem is, I am confused as to which is the American way. So many different words for the same thing run through my brain that I am confused as to which word belongs to which country.

Spellings that used to seem natural to me now look wrong and I am unsure to which country they belong. I’m afraid that with the wrong spelling or word usage, I will cut down on my chances of being published. People will either think I’m terribly thick or too foreign. It’s enough to drive a person mad. Or should I say crazy?

Several weeks ago I opened up the daily paper and scooted my eyes over to the want ads. I was looking for a job.

I had come to feel like I was a burden by not making money when I really could be. I had a big surgery that was coming up and had to be paid for, there were things around the house that needed to be fixed or upgraded, and we had various financial needs to take care of. I felt like all I did was keep taking away without putting anything back. I figured I should find some kind of job to make me feel better.

Looking over the want ads in jobs I used to have I started to feel physically ill. I became nervous and unsure, frightened and angry. Every turn of the page my body stiffened until finally I had to run to the bathroom and throw up.

I thought about my reaction afterwards, why it was so strong. I realised it’s because I am a writer. From my head to my toes, no matter what, I am a writer. Yes, I was a fantastic executive. Yes, I do want to have some kind of creative job that I create in my future. Yes I do volunteer as a Docent at the local Arts Museum. But I am a writer first and foremost. There’s no two ways around it.

This realisation has helped me to define my intentions. I’ve been reading artists statements all over the place and every book always says you must declare what you’re intentions are – why you write.

This had been something I had been struggling with because I didn’t know what my intentions were. I only knew I wanted to write.

I’ve had so many different jobs, so many different hobbies and past times and the only consistent thing throughout them all, was writing.

As a child I read madly and wrote so much. I ate up books daily and loved nothing better than to be alone in my room writing a short story. Writing has always been in me.

When I made the decision last April to write it shouldn’t really have been such a revelation. But it was because I had developed hang-ups about writing and what writing and “being a writer” meant. Instead of just being OK with the fact that writing was natural and all I wanted to do, I thought I had to buy into the idea of what writing was. I read so many books on “how to be a writer” that I soon forgot how to be me as a writer. I tried to become something I already was. One day, I just stopped trying. I stopped fighting myself. I stopped listening to other people’s ideas on the subject of writing and began to just do what I needed to do.

I don’t have reasons or intentions for writing. I don’t write to prove anything. I don’t write because I think what I have to say is the best. I don’t write for fans and adoration. Having a best seller or award winning article isn’t on my to do list and I never honestly really thought about making money from it until people started to make an issue about it. All those things do not motivate me to write. I simply write because it is in me to do so. Without writing, I don’t know who I am.

Understanding and admitting all that has been a huge for me and in a way liberated me. It takes some of the pressure off that I feel outside sources have put on me. It’s not an excuse to slack or lay back in any way, but rather permission to move ahead as I need to. Once I understood why I write, I stopped having to live up to some image of a writer or reach some goals set by others. I stopped feeling like such a fake, and began to feel real.

And once I began to feel real, and that I was doing all this because its just who I am, I stopped looking in the paper. There is just no other occupation for me right now. I simply am a writer. There is no alternative.

There are emails to catch up on, work to do, updates to make but for now, everything is going to remain quiet.

Last week I had major surgery and am still in the process of recovering from it. I’m trying to heal in a guilt free manner but it’s hard – there’s so much I want to do right now but physically and mentally I just can’t. Being an invalid has certainly been a learning experience.

I’ve learned that when you work from home, the line between work and home sometimes blur. When you’re at home, you’re also at your office. That can make it difficult at times to not think about work. There is no office you drive home from, or cubicle you walk into.

When I had the surgery, I had it done about a 3 hour drive away and I ended up having to stay with my friends for the first several days. This ended up being a very good thing because I was out of my home, out of my office, and out of my comfort zone. I couldn’t work, I didn’t have to return emails or type up thoughts. I didn’t think about how to work my surgery into articles. I did nothing, without worry, for those first few days.

Then I came home last Friday night and as soon as I walked in the door, I felt the need to catch up on my work and get back into my pattern of doing. Even though I was medicated beyond belief and completely sick, I thought because I was at home, I should be working. The computer was only 6 feet away and I felt guilty for not being at it.

If someone had told me I was a workaholic I would have laughed at them. I am known as the girl who plays far too much and hooky is my middle name. Yet with writing, with taking charge of my own career, it’s different. I want to write and create all the time. I have all these plans that have to be put into motion. There’s so much going on inside my head that all I want to do is figure out how to make it all real. Everything I see becomes something processed in my mind. I’m always writing in my head, reflecting on things, figuring out art. I love what I’m doing and don’t even consider it work half the time. And that might be a dangerous thing.

For the sake of my sanity, (and future guilt free surgeries or days off) I need to learn to create some kind of balance between work and home.

Maybe it would help if I didn’t live in 800 square feet.

I’ve started to write articles again, different articles. None that have to do with writing, the process of writing, or living a writers life. If all I can do is write about writing, then I don’t think there’s much hope for me as a writer.

I think it’s like the saying “those who can do, do and those who can’t teach.” How can I be inspiring about writing if all I do is just talk about it? I’d rather be inspring through action. That because I can write about different things, that my journey in becomming a writer means that much more. I don’t want to be one of those people who make their living just handing out buzz words or talking about the process but never really do anything.

Yes, they are full of hurrah and can sometimes help to inspire people, but for me, it’s always been the real action that has more power. I don’t want to keep telling people I write, I want to prove it. It’s funny but at the same time I’m declaring this here, its parallelling with my work at the museum.

I’ve become frustrated with my class there, the docent training program that teaches us about art. During my training, we’ve had to do a tour and speak on a couple of pictures. My approach was the only unique one out of the whole class; I was the only one who didn’t give facts and figures and spend all of my time lecturing on the piece itself. I was the only one who got people invovled and asked them to talk about it and their lives accordingly. I spoke very little to let the others speak more. We spoke about life, laughter, being human, home. It was wonderfully interactive and fun. The other Docents in training taught. They taught about line, about negative and positive space, about the artist. About this fact and that.

Now, I’m not saying that’s not inappropriate because I think that’s probably how a lot of docents and teachers work. But none of the docents in training were artists. I didn’t understand how they felt they could talk about the picture so coldy. I don’t want to ever do that. I don’t want to be a bunch of fact and talk. I want to do and if that’s inspiring, wonderful. If not, I’m not going to write about it to try to make it so.

The past week I’ve been in a funk. I’ve felt dishevelled and out of sorts. I had worked so hard, non-stop for over two weeks straight that I didn’t take any time to stop and think about what was going on. My momentum and energy kept me moving without taking time to be in the moment.

When I did stop my work frenzy, I was left feeling empty and scared. I didn’t know what to do next, where to turn, or what to think. All I had been doing to that point was working and now I didn’t know how to relax.

Today I got an email from someone who reminded me what my website is called and what I wanted to be about. She wrote, “Remember that you’re a girl at play! If all your life is about writing, what are you going to write about?”

Her email hit me hard though I wasn’t sure what to do about it at first. It was cold outside, grey and dark and the violent waves on the lake matched my mood perfectly. I didn’t feel like playing because I had work to do – even though I didn’t want to do it or know how to begin it. So instead I laid on the couch in a pitiful heap with blankets covering me up, trying to hide me from the world. I laid there angry and annoyed with myself for not working. While lying there frustrated and completely useless, I kept hearing in the back of my mind her words, over and over again. “You’re supposed to be a girl at PLAY!”

I decided to give in to the voice so I packed my bag with my notepad, pen, book and proposal and headed to the cafe. I decided that I would try to mix taking some time off with a little bit of work and see if I could enjoy it.

At first, sitting in the cafe was awkward. I ate my sandwich far too fast and gulped down my water. I was reading my book at an alarming rate, missing half of what it was saying. Instead of slowing down to relax I kept trying to hurry the whole experience, still feeling like I was wasting time.

There were moments when I thought I’d just pack up and go home. I was just that miserable.

But I forced myself to stay and be in the present. Slowly I began to relax and finally I became swept away in the moment. For the first time in weeks, I was able to reconnect with myself.

That’s when I was able to really see what was around me. I began to see and soak in the inspiration that was all around. I became mesmerised by the hard rain pounding mercilessly against the cafe windows. I noticed how the two lovers next to me spoke to each other as though no one was else around and how they touched each other when their conversation became intense. I stared at the whip cream as it melted into the mocha and created my favourite colour. I listened to the sound of the lunchtime buzz as people were hurried in and out. Most of all, I just simply enjoyed my time.

Seeing everything clearly and sometimes in slow motion was powerful to me. I instantaneously felt as ease and comforted. I felt ALIVE! It was these moments that reminded me why I am here and what enjoying life is about – the little details that others are too busy to see.

I spent over two hours in that cafe. Reading, writing, and just being. I don’t feel one moment was wasted. I don’t think one penny was wasted. I needed that time. I needed to be reminded of what this is all for.

When I got home, there were other emails waiting for me. For the first time in a long time I was relaxed enough to just enjoy reading them and take in all that they had to say. Their words struck me deep and hard. Their power overwhelmed me emotionally and I began to weep a little.

I had been so wrapped up in doing that I hadn’t taken the time to enjoy the life I was creating or the affect I was having on others. I had been measuring my work by the amount of words I had written or the deadlines I had made or the direction I was headed. Slowing down has allowed me to reconnect with myself and measure my success by based on how I feel, how I live and how I am loved.

Without the reminders, kindness and support from all of you, I don’t know if I would have remembered all of that. It was you who reminded me that the purpose of all of this isn’t for money or publishing success but instead to live each day aware. You reminded me to enjoy every moment and have courage to be in the difficult ones. You reminded me that we are here to help and enjoy each other instead of obessing over word counts and page edits. You give me strength to keep going when I don’t think I can.

I don’t think I can ever thank you enough for what you’ve done. Especially for reminding me that I’m not in this alone.

There is my book proposal to finish up and send out. There are articles I have to begin to write for magazines and one I have to finish by Friday. There are contests I want to enter some of my writing in. There’s the Another Girl at Play site to finish up and launch, and my travel site, Anywhere, Everywhere site that needs to be worked on. There’s reading for my Docent class this week, my surgery next week and regular living on top.

Someone please tell me we get more than 24 hours and seven days.

A part of me wonders if I’ve bitten off more than I can chew, if I’ve become too ambitious. I know I can multi task and stay atop of things (thanks to my corporate days where I ruled as Alex, Goddess of Multi task) but I wonder if it’s too much? If I had to drop something, what would I drop?

I want it all It’s in me to do it all. Sometimes I think because I spent so much time just thinking of ideas, that now I’m trying to make up for that by doing them all. I think I’ve scared myself into the idea that if I don’t act on it now, I never will. My bout of laziness has actually made me afraid of failing myself again. Of not taking this seriously, of going back to being nothing except one who just dreams.