Reading Meets Organizing

 When it comes to reading, I'm a dabbler. I'm always in the middle of multiple (as in, double digits) books, e-books, audio books, and magazines. Most of them are non-fiction, which lends itself well to dabbling. I rarely read more than one novel at at time because, once I enter the world of characters I care enough to keep reading about, I don't want to mix up their lives with anyone else's.

Since so much of what I read is non-fiction, I typically read with a pencil or highlighter in hand, and Post-it Note flags and scissors (for magazines) within reach. After I set everything aside, I'm left with a collection of ideas, thoughts and, if I'm lucky, inspiration.

But what do I do with all of it? If I keep the books in my personal library, it's easy enough to flip through the pages and/or follow the flags to locate the information I'm seeking (provided I can remember which book had which idea). For the magazines, I have a clipping file.

This tenuous, imperfect, sort-of system was working for the most part, but it wasn't terribly efficient. Then, when online reading joined the game, it quickly became the tipping point, and the notion that my system did anything but generate clutter went right down the drain.

When I discovered Tiago Forte's Building a Second Brain: A Proven Method to Organize Your Digital Life and Unlock Your Creative Potential, I tore through the first few chapters. Not only did it promise to help me build a system, but it also reminded me why I was gathering all this miscellany in the first place. Even better, I was delighted to discover that those with some of the best minds in history had notebooks filled with highlights of what they'd read. Though I have no delusions that I have one of the best minds in history, it was nice to know I'm in good company.

I've been chipping away at Forte's book for several months now. I haven't lost interest; I just didn't want to wait until I finished the book to put his ideas to work. So far, I've personalized his ideas by pressing the Notes app on my devices into service to organize my online finds and I've created a "Book Notes" notebook to capture ideas from any book I decide not to keep in my personal library. These small steps (purely my interpretation of the intersection of Forte's ideas with my own habits) have helped me to feel (a bit) less scattered because my finds are a bit more curated. I'm also creating a library of notebooks (which take up less space than books), and I've discovered that as I collect and curate, I pay a bit more attention to why I'm selecting the information that I decide to keep. Sometimes I don't have a specific reason, or perhaps I can see numerous ways that the information will be useful -- that's where the creative potential part comes in -- and that's also why it's so important to save the information in a way that makes retrieval as easy as possible.

I want to make it clear that my system is my take on how Forte's ideas work for me. Although his books provide a framework, he's very clear that one size does not fit all, which is one of the things that has made this book such a good read.

Meanwhile, I persist in my goal of finishing two books a month -- a small, reachable goal that ensures that I don't just skim the surface of 10, 000 ideas. Perhaps even better, it affords me the freedom to continue the sampling and dabbling I so enjoy.

Mental Load

 It’s been almost a month since spring semester ended and I am three weeks into the summer course I’m teaching (yes, you read that timeline right). Fortunately, the course is online, I’ve taught it before, and the roster settled in at a little under 20 students. This means that I can allocate part of each day to my summer class and then walk away guilt free to engage in other pursuits.

Despite that timeframe — or perhaps, in part, because of it — it wasn’t until the end of last week that I actually began to feel a little bit relaxed. Even factoring in the necessary grading and planning for my class, my to-do lists have shrunk substantially. As I write this, it’s a warm, sunny day, the gray skies and persistent rain of the past two weeks having taken a hiatus. The house is quiet, my time is largely my own, (at least during the day) and I’m slowly accomplishing the kinds of small tasks that frequently pile up during the semester, clamoring for a spot on my already overpopulated to-do list.

The lists aren’t actually the issue though. Stress comes packaged in the form of the unwritten, unspoken prodding and nudging insistently scrolling through the background in my mind, pushing me to stay on top of things and refusing to let me take down time, pouring on the guilt whenever a glimmer of self-care makes an appearance. The prodding and nudging is so thorough, in fact, that it sticks around even after the last grade has been recorded. Circling my head like buzzards, Mr. Prod and Mrs. Nudge leave me with the constant feeling that I should be doing something other than what I’m doing, particularly when what I’m doing is relaxing.

During a very similar time last summer, I decided to get a pedicure. I hadn’t had one in a while and when I leaned back in the chair, I almost wept. 

I know. Dramatic. I thought so too. It was a dramatic release that was longer coming than I realized.

A couple weeks ago, the same thing happened, only this time it was a massage, not a pedicure. Tears leaked from behind my eyes as I lay on the table, letting go of the busyness that had simply been life for the past few weeks. 

When we’re just going through the day-to-day and doing our thing, we sometimes forget that just going through the day and doing our thing can be stressful because, when compared to other scenarios, it doesn’t seem like a big deal.

And maybe it isn’t. But our day-to-day still takes time and energy. While we quickly recognize a depletion of our physical energy, we can forget or undervalue depletion of our mental energy.

When I leaned back in that chair last summer and lay down on that table a few weeks ago, I wasn’t recovering from digging ditches, or standing out on a black, tarry highway in 90° temperatures in full construction gear, or working the lunch rush at a diner. Those jobs take a physical toll—one we recognize. Sitting in a chair in an air-conditioned sunporch grading papers? Hardly compares.

But mental labor — whether it’s grading papers, writing legal briefs, or keeping a household running smoothly  — does leave its mark. And when we downplay the toll that mental exhaustion takes, we unintentionally hang on to it, strengthening its grip so that when we finally let go, the floodgates open, emotions tripping over themselves as they run for the exit.

I recognize how fortunate I am that indulgences like pedicures and massages are a part of my life, and this post isn’t about complaining about how hard my life is because I actually have a pretty good life. 

But even the good life comes with challenges. As a counselor, I have a pretty good handle on my emotions — most of the time, anyway — as well as an understanding of the human condition. Together, these things tell me that I’m not alone.

And that’s the reason for this post.

It’s tough out there sometimes — for all of us. It’s important to take our emotional temperature from time to time and figure out what we need. And once we figure out how to make it happen, we need to do it guilt-free (as long as we aren’t hurting anyone else in the process) because investing in ourselves can be one of the best investments there is.

So, how about you? How will you protect your investment?

(Image by Rosy / Bad Homburg / Germany from Pixabay)

Pivot

 Last week, I wrote about the Pennwriters Conference, an event I've been attending for probably 20 years. My reasons for attending vary from one year -- and one stage of writing -- to the next. Over time, I became more particular about which workshops I attended, honing in on sessions that fit with where I was in my writing career. Some years, the focus was meeting with agents. Other years, it was social media, writing craft, or networking (a.k.a. known as socializing). 

This year, my goals were motivation, inspiration, and instruction. Every writer has slumps, and this past year has been one of mine. I have a project ready to go, but it's stalled because I'm disillusioned and overwhelmed by the next steps I need to take. 

Because this year's conference fell during finals week, it was impossible to attend the full conference, so I scoured the scheduled offerings, highlighting the sessions that were the best fit for my current circumstances and planning accordingly. In the end, I laid out a schedule that enabled me to attend a day and a half of the conference.

The pre-conference offered a half-day session for writers who'd finished a book and were struggling with the kinds of promotional writing that constitute the next steps -- a perfect fit for my current situation. Although the presenter didn't give me the information I'd hoped for, her workshop yielded something valuable. 

It shed light on WHY I'm stuck.

I was profoundly aware that writing a novel and submitting a novel involve two different skills sets, one of which I find MUCH more enjoyable than the other. The presenter aptly described this as moving from pouring your heart and soul into something to turning it into a product to be sold. 

Yikes. No wonder this is hard. I needed to pivot, but I was standing still, completely unaware that I was supposed to be pivoting. I knew I needed to do something, but I had neither the energy nor the choreography to join the dance.

I have no illusions that this will be easy. Exhaustion and burnout don't arise overnight, and they can't be resolved that quickly either. Knowing this frees me from the pressure to seek a quick fix and enables me to embrace the wisdom of focusing on small steps instead -- a slow, meticulous pivot, if you will -- that will get me pointed in the right direction. From there, I can focus on the rest of the choreography.

How about you? Is there somewhere in your life that requires a pivot? What will it take to get you to join the dance?

A Bit of Swinging and a Bit of Sitting Still

This week, I'm celebrating 22 years on the porch swing. Posts have been a bit more sporadic this year as a variety of obligations have made posting more challenging. Luckily, most of the empty space was due to a busy schedule that sapped motivation and not anything more serious. I must admit that I do sometimes wish Santa would bring me a big, fat bundle of blog topic ideas for Christmas. :-)

Thanks for reading, commenting, and tolerating the white space.

Last week marked 21 years since I started this blog. My daughter was still small -- kindergarten or first grade -- and I think I remember sitting on the porch swing at my brother- and sister-in-law's house with her. I know that's where this idea was hatched, and named.

In those two decades, this blog has had multiple homes, multiple schedules, and multiple themes. It hatched an offshoot, Organizing by STYLE, after I realized that my posts here about organization weren't just a phase, and those posts became the foundation for my third non-fiction book.

In the early days, I was proud of myself for simply figuring out how to publish a post. I look back on those short, words-only entries and realize how far I've come. Not only did I not know how to create hyperlinks and add visuals, it never occurred to me to do so. Now, I can't imagine posting something without a visual, often one I've created on Canva to make a recurring feature recognizable at a glance.

My daughter grew up here, in a sense, as she was frequently the inspiration for my posts. My characters spent time here, too, with Marita, Bets, Angel, and Charli answering questions in the way I imagined they would. Their voices were -- and are -- so clear that it was like having a conversation among friends.

At times, it was hard to know what to write about; sometimes it still is. Often, I wondered if anyone was reading anything I posted, or if I was simply shouting into cyberspace, my voice echoed back only  to me. Occasionally, I wondered if this little experiment had run its course but, Jersey girl that I am, I'm too stubborn to walk away.

One of my favorite off-shoots of this blog
 is this beautiful visual created by Rachel DeMasi.

This blog has taught me a lot. It has strengthened not just my tech skills, but my writing skills as well, enabling me to create content more quickly. It has made me think about what I want to share and what I don't. I hope that what I've decided to shared has reached others who might be grappling with same things I am, whether that's parenting, kids, work, or life itself. 

Thanks for coming on this journey with me. I'm now at an age where I refuse to do the math to see whether or not I have another 21 years in me, but the current plan is to stick around for the foreseeable future.

I hope you'll join me.

Writer Analysis, Pennwriters-Style

Image by congerdesign from Pixabay

  The week before last, I attended the Pennwriters Conference. In previous years, I wrote posts daily, sharing them here. This year, I had every intention of doing just that, using the conference to get myself back on the blog post bandwagon that the closing weeks of the semester had pushed me off of. I made notes and wrote drafts, but didn't manage to get anything posted.

Better late than never :-)

Attending the workshop that turned out to be my favorite shed a (lot of) light on my inability to move from blog draft to blog post. Given by a psychologist with a goal of helping all who attended his workshop to get unstuck, “The Well-Adjusted Writer” focused on elements of brain chemistry, the brain itself, growth, mindset, and strategies. Not only was it right in my wheelhouse, but the double workshop was a fabulous experience, by itself worth the cost of admission.

The presenter started out with a quiz of sorts, designed to help us zoom in on our obstacles to writing success. My highest score?

The Burned Out writer. Yikes. 

Distracted (agree) and serial starter (sort of...but I do finish a lot of those serial starts) were tied for second with rule-breaker (disagree) following at a close third.

That first "diagnosis" hit hard, largely because it was accurate. I hadn't yet applied that particular term to my writing stuck-ness, but it fit. It was the thing that had propelled me to the conference, to the Friday sessions, and to this workshop in particular. 

But I don't want to be a burned out writer, and so I listened attentively to the rest of the workshop. Much of it aligned with things I was already doing (my ten-minute a day goals were right on track!) and the impending change in my schedule (finishing the semester and moving from three in-person classes to one online class promised to help reduce my distraction. As for serial writer and rule-breaker? Well, I'm not actually too concerned about those. My serial writing has more to do with writing (anything!) on a regular basis and I rarely break the writing rules that really matter.

Bruce (the presenter) also placed a lot of value on figuring out where we are (something he called the "tiny compass") at the outset of a writing session and using that information to our advantage. This is something I routinely do (although I have a tendency to call it "mood-driven" planning, and I struggle to do it without guilt or apology). Once again, this validated not only my 10 minute writing sessions, but also the decisions I made at the conference about when to sleep in, when to attend a session (and when to skip one), and when to push myself out of my comfort zone. On the heels of the last week of classes, grading, and finals, I was running on fumes, but I knew I'd be upset if I didn't go to the conference, and so I went, seeking balance rather than getting my money's worth.

It's not at all surprising that a psychologist would approach all of this the way Bruce did and, as I said, it was right in my wheelhouse. The simple act of figuring out what we can do in any given moment (vs. what we should do) is applicable across so much more than writing. 

In the end, Bruce's workshop was as much about self-compassion as it was about writing. Having just covered this in a course I'm taking and in a course I was teaching, I immediately recognized its value.

Now that I'm back home and my summer class is set up, I'm excited to dig into not only my writing, but the notes from the workshop. Retaking the quiz a week later, I got lower scores (that's a good thing) in most areas, but burned out writer still looms large. Now, though, instead of mourning that, I need to cut myself some slack, and practice stepping away or changing direction when I need to, especially when it comes to the writing tasks I find most onerous. I also need to remind myself what I tell my students -- than any writing is better than no writing -- and to take Bruce's advice and reward myself for achieving my goals.

I know I'm not alone. One of the posts I started at the conference had to do with the reasons people said they were there. The one I heard most often?

I need a nudge.

I'm so grateful to Bruce for providing me with just that, ensuring I'm on the right path to becoming a well-adjusted writer.

Overbooked

 Heading into the final week of May, I'm coming off a three-week stretch where I didn't have a single weekday without an appointment or obligation -- my definition of overbooked. Yes, I know this is a very lenient definition, and going one week like that is do-able (and often the norm). But, when this compounds over a period of weeks, it makes me feel tense, stressed, and unprepared to cope with the (inevitable) unexpected occurrences.

Don't get me wrong -- some of these obligations were very good ones -- the wrap-up of a semester, attending a writing conference, going for a much-needed massage -- but I know myself well enough to know that I work best when I have at least one (preferably two) days a week with no obligations beyond my own to-do list. Appointments (even the good ones) are often like a blemish on the pristine white page of my planner -- the things that force me to put on the brakes and change course, interrupting flow, progress, and serenity.

Happily, I'm heading into a long weekend. I spent much of today clearing the decks as much as possible so I could kick off next week with some peace and serenity.

And yet...

A quick glance at next week's calendar reveals that I just scheduled a doctor's appointment into the one day I'll have the house to myself.

Okay, June. You're up.

Perseverance

 It's finals week. Yesterday, I completed my last on-campus obligation. All that remains of spring semester is a handful of student meetings and a pile of grading, leaving me in the weird I'm-finished-but-I'm-not space that arises every semester. 

Today (on my calendar anyway) is Reading Day, Part 2. Working from home (with a husband who is also working from home), preparing for a trip to a writing conference, and just plain old being ready to be finished all add up to difficulty resisting the temptations that call to me from every room of the house. Although they, like this post I'm writing, will make lovely breaks from the required action, they can't be my focus right now. 

So -- for now anyway -- I'll resist the urge to read that book, succumb to a rainy day nap, or declutter the dining room table, not because I'm disciplined but because procrastination only makes things worse.

Wish me luck.