Examining the Year of No

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I am on vacation this week and, in the spirit of my "year of no," I made sure to keep plenty of open space in my week. There are a number of writing projects I'd like to work on and, when I have time off from school, I flip the switch, so to speak, to make writing my first priority. I have a few household projects in mind as well, and before I even started a written list, it was clear that my list was longer than the time I have available.

Nothing new there.

So, I opted to do something I have difficulty doing: I protected my time. Monday and Friday? Nothing on the schedule. To be honest, this was to offset not one, but two necessary appointments on  Wednesday afternoon (physical and haircut). Thursday morning, I meet with my writing partner, leaving Thursday afternoon free. Tomorrow morning, I opted for pampering over a blank schedule, and I'm going for a massage.

That left me all day Monday, Tuesday afternoon, Wednesday morning (except for the charity pick-up I set up, but they'll come to me), Thursday afternoon and all day Friday...plus the weekend. I have a few things to grade, but that schedule seemed to leave plenty of time for writing, with some extra goofing off time available and a chance to spend some time with my dad.

Then, Saturday night, our dryer went on strike. I dutifully called the dryer repairman, who could come Tuesday afternoon. I was elated! Visions of lugging wet towels to the laudromat vanished, along with a chunk of my Tuesday. No problem, I reassured myself. That'll keep you in the house, where you can get things done.

Next, I opened an email from a friend who was going to be in town this week. Was I free Thursday afternoon?

Yes! I am! Can't wait to see you! (And now I have to make sure my proposal is due before we meet!)

You see where this is going?

Overall, I'm doing well in my year of no. The problem (if I can even call it that) arises when I don't want to say no. I want my dryer fixed. I want to see my friend.

But I also want to write and read and put my house in order. Literally. And, oh, there are those papers to grade....

The thing is, my year of no is turning out just as I hoped it would, albeit with a few complications. The purpose of saying no was not to become a hermit, a couch potato or even a writer who created until she dropped. The purpose of saying no was to free up time for the things that matter.

And so far, with few exceptions, it's working out just fine.

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Writing New Rules

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New semester, new schedule.

One of the most interesting aspects of this new life I took on five years ago is that no two days are ever the same. Oddly enough, I used to say that about my old job; clearly, this is a selling point for me.

When I worked as a school counselor, the working hours were pretty consistent. Some days I'd have meetings before and/or after school, but Monday-Friday, my working hours were basically the same. Sure, there were breaks, the longest of which came in the summer and required an actual, but welcome, time adjustment, but, for most of the year, my Monday-Friday schedule matched that of much of the rest of the working world.

When I first retired, I felt as though I were playing hooky every day. Then, when I started teaching at the college, a structure began to emerge. My teaching days were structured by a single class and one office hour, while my "off" days were spent creating materials for my teaching days. I got up when my daughter did and structured my days around hers.

As one class blossomed into two, then three, new textbooks and new courses created a steady stream of work to complete, but the when and how was all up to me. Early on, work began to bleed into leisure, and work hours began to move beyond the traditional nine-to-five and into evenings and weekends. I didn't mind. I loved what I was teaching and the preparation was a challenge I enjoyed. I still got up when my daughter did and, after a while, it was easy to feel as though I "should" be doing something during all of my waking hours.

Now, my daughter's high school days are behind her, and my days of rising before 8 AM are largely behind me as well. Not having to "get up for work in the morning" gives me an illusory sense of freedom. I can stay up as late as I'd like -- which is appealing to a night owl like me -- knowing it's up to me to decide when the alarm goes off, and how I fit writing, planning and grading into the hours when I'm not teaching.

But, realistically, the best hours for me to work are when the world is at work, too. It's quiet, there are no interruptions and I don't look like some sort of lazybones who can't manage to get out of bed and start her day when the rest of the world does.

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That last part affects me much more than it should. Early this morning, for example (2:15 AM for those of you keeping score at home), I had a great idea. My schedule being what it is, I should have gotten up and worked on it when it was fresh in my mind and I was excited about it.

Why didn't I? I'm not sure. I don't teach today, so if I'd worked from 2:15 to 3:15AM, I could've slept an extra hour to make up for it.

The truth is, it all feels so indulgent. I find it perfectly acceptable for my nineteen-year-old to set a schedule that revolves around her classes, but she's nineteen -- that's what she's supposed to do, and that's what all of her friends do, too. Outside my work space (home), my peers are keeping a traditional nine-to-five schedule -- or something resembling it -- and when I don't do the same, instead of feeling rebellious and exuberant, I feel as though I'm not measuring up.

It's silly, really. Most days, I get at least as much done as I did when I was working on someone else's schedule, but still, swimming against the tide feels awkward at best and, at worst, as though I'm breaking some unspoken rule of maturity.

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The truth is, I've been apologizing for taking Frost's "road less traveled by" for five years now. And
this? This schedule thing? It's more of the same.

Maybe, just maybe, it's time to enjoy the path I'm on, and be content to let those who prefer the highway enjoy their ride.

Chances are, they're zipping by too quickly to care much about mine.

Baby Steps and Semantics

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On Saturday, I corralled my daughter and made/re-scheduled all of her necessary appointments for the next two weeks (leading up to prom and graduation). With the exception of one appointment where we needed to await a return call, I was able to check those things off my list.

Then, while waiting for laundry, I tackled some piles in the basement, creating a really nice feeling of accomplishment -- at least until I realized it was late afternoon and no writing had taken place.

Monday kicked off my first class-free week (with the exception of a final I'm administering tomorrow) of the summer. Because I didn't have any class preparation to do, I forced myself to do an errand I'd been putting off before making my daily trip to Starbucks. Along the way, I took care of another overdue task -- one that had hung in limbo while I considered possible solutions. That evening, I sorted and cleared some of the paper clutter on the counter in my office. Excited by my progress, I wrote all of these accomplishments on my calendar, hatching a new plan that involved tackling one overdue task each day.

Yesterday? I wrote, had lunch with a friend I hadn't seen in almost a year, graded papers, made dinner, chipped away at the non-creative bits that are part of writing and blog maintenance and took care of things like dinner and laundry. In other words, a normal day, with no bonus tasks.

After I first berated myself, then considered redefining "overdue" (did that lunch "count"?) and finally thought about giving up and chalking Saturday and Monday up to sheer exuberance, I decided I was being silly.

Even as I wrote those tasks on the calendar on Monday, I worried that days would slip by without progress on my new goal. And do you know what that's called?

Life.

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Any progress toward a goal is good news, whether that progress is step-by-step or in fits and starts. Saturday and Monday lit a fire under me, reminding me that small steps can lead to the desire to do more. I know this is true when it comes to saving money and writing and class planning, and I even write about it (often!) when it comes to organization.

Yet, as soon as I backslide, I forget this.

So...onward. Since I'm a writer and I know that finding the word that captures precisely what I want to say is important, I am going to redefine "overdue." Now that I think about it, the phrase "something I've been meaning to do" more accurately describes the lingering tasks I'm thinking of, without begging the question of how long it has to have been on the list to qualify as "overdue." And now that I mention it, I know exactly what that task du jour is going to be today.

How about you? What have you been meaning to do? Is today the day?

So, What do You Write?

Photo: Luis Llerena via Unsplash.com

When I first started writing, I wrote nonfiction. Exclusively. I worked on one article at a time and never had to worry about getting characters or story lines confused.

When I began trying my hand at fiction, it was as part of a writing class. I worked on one piece at a time, and the stories were short. I had a job and a small child, and I wrote in small snippets of time during which it was easy to keep one story straight, whether it was fiction, non-fiction or an essay.

Novels came later, and since I still had the job and the child, I continued to work in snippets of time. Though I spent most of my writing time working on my novel-in-progress, I found time to work on articles over the summer, and even occasionally during the school year. Somewhere along the way, I picked up blogging, and started working that in, too.

When I retired, one of my goals was to blog on a regular basis. Four years later, I have a weekly schedule I stick to, writing five to six blogs each week and posting Monday, Wednesday, Thursday and Friday in three different locations.

That's when it got complicated.

Some days, I blog ahead of time so that my posts are all ready to go on their assigned days. Other days, I'm still figuring out what I want to write about early -- or even later -- in the day, and the blogs hang over my head until I write and post them. Once they're finished, I have time for discretionary writing.

When that time rolls around, I sometimes have trouble figuring out what I want to write. Right now, for example, I'm working on new story for one novel, revisions on a second and the occasional non-fiction article for one of the online or print publications that regularly accepts my work. Some days, one project is foremost in my mind, so that's where I put my energies. Other days, they jockey for position or, worse yet, refuse to be prodded into submission like so many unruly teenagers.

I told the barista -- a fellow writer --
that I was going to work
on revisions. 

Eventually, as most parents/supervisors do, I manage to coerce one of them into cooperation and actually make
progress. Sometimes, I need to leave home to do this.

Most writers I know work on multiple projects -- some simultaneously, others sequentially. Tomorrow, you'll meet my friend Rachel, who's primarily a novelist, but has also just put together an adult coloring book that fits with the theme of her soon-to-be-released novel. A talented illustrator, Rachel divides her time among a number of writing and illustrating projects -- and several pseudonyms as well. I don't know how she does it all. (Maybe she'll tell us tomorrow).

So, when you ask a writer what she writes, don't be surprised if the answer is "a little bit of everything." Unless she's famous, chances are good that she divvies her available time up among a number of projects, perhaps feeling as though she never really has enough time for any of them. Who knows? Maybe famous writers do this, too.

Perhaps some day I'll find out.

The Cure for the Common Frenzy

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I am generally an upbeat person, but lately, I've been feeling tired and a bit like I need a life preserver. I'm used to being busy, and although I'm busier than normal, that didn't feel like the whole problem.

Never satisfied not to analyze, I kept wondering and working at the knot, trying to figure out what tangled threads were at its core. Then last Friday, a beautiful, sunny day on the cusp of the weekend, as I drove down route 83, my endless to-do list scrolling through my head, it finally dawned on me.

I don't have any white space.

No, I haven't gone over the edge, or gone under completely (glub, glub). White space -- that beautiful stretch of calendar page that is blank and free from all scheduled obligation -- is my cure for the common frenzy. And while my days for the past couple of weeks have had patches of white space -- enough for a nap or a maybe even a decadent night of mindless television -- what I needed was a meadow-sized space. A whole day where I didn't have to be anywhere. I could have a to-do list -- no problem.

I just needed an entire 24-hour period full of white space to carve up as I saw fit.

While diagnosing my problem was a relief, looking at my calendar curtailed that excitement pretty quickly. I'm optimistic that I can stitch together a patchwork of white space in the week ahead, but my meadow is still a ways off.

Still, knowing what the problem is, now I can tackle it. The first step is to find the first white space day on my calendar and plant my flag. My day. My time. Nothing scheduled here. A big old X on the calendar, and that step is done. Yes, people can ask me to do things, and I'll be happy to add them to my list, and maybe even comply. As long as I don't have to be anywhere else to do it.

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The next step is to take a look at the things that are eating up my white space and decide if they've earned the right to gobble it up. Which commitments truly enrich me and which are simply white-space eating habits? That step is a lot more challenging, but it's the one that's likely to lead to a long-term solution.

Finally, I need to get from here to the X on my calendar. Knowing what's going on is a big relief -- a half-inflated life preserver, if you will -- and knowing my white space is there, waiting for me, helps, too. Until then, I have to protect my patchwork, and, barring emergencies, I think I can do that.

And finally finally, I need to accept that this is something that I need. That it's not selfish or childish or ridiculous. Yes, a full schedule with responsibilities is part of being an adult. But my goal is to be a happy adult, and that means that an honest assessment of what I can and cannot do is in order. And what I cannot do is operate indefinitely without white space.

How about you? How do you capture and preserve your white space?

The Start of Summer

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Today is the first day of summer vacation. Though it's not yet summer according to the calendar, and my daughter's last day of school was last Thursday (making Friday the actual first day of vacation), trust me when I tell you that at my house, today is the first day of summer vacation. I know this because I felt several seismic shifts this morning.

My husband left for work while both my daughter and I were asleep.

My daughter made pancakes for breakfast. At 10:00.

My normally quiet house has had music echoing off all its surfaces for the past hour-and-a-half, with few exceptions.

While I'm very glad to have my daughter home, and to have dispensed with an alarm clock for the foreseeable future, I'm already sensing that creating a work schedule is going to be a tad challenging.

There are parts of summer vacation I adore. Having my family around more often. Sleeping in. Reading for pleasure.

Yet all of these wonderful things conspire to make the day-to-day more challenging. When I'm enjoying the down time, my to-do list runs like a ticker tape in the back of my mind. When I'm working and my family isn't, I feel as though I should step away from the computer or the planner, which brings up another way that I know summer vacation has just begun.

I haven't found my balance yet. Yesterday, I read, napped, played on my iPad and watched Harry Potter (and felt very guilty). Consequently, today I should be writing and editing and planning and putting my house in order, both literally and figuratively.

Photo: mensatic via Morguefile

But by the time I sat down to write this, the first thing on today's to-do list, it was nearly noon.

And my daughter has just returned with a Starbucks for me.

Maybe balance is overrated.

Friday Freebie: What I'm Reading in Ten Minutes or Less: Why Creative People Shouldn't Work 9 to 5

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I love it when a Friday Freebie falls into my lap.

Yesterday, my writer friend Cerella Sechrist posted this article on her Facebook page -- and on a day when I was feeling very much as though normal business hours were overrated.

One of the best things about being retired from full-time work and pursuing part-time work with a huge creative element is having a (somewhat) flexible schedule. If I start out slowly, I'm not late for anything. If I want to take a break at 1 PM and relocated to Starbucks, I can. If I need a nap in the afternoon to make up for the fact that I'm not an early-to-bed-early-to-rise kinda girl, I can take one. And sometimes it's nice to know I have company.

Thanks, Cerella.

Wiggle Room

We leave for the beach next week.

My husband is already packed.

I, on the other hand, am barely keeping my head above water, so to speak. I thought I was ahead of the game loading supplies into the tote I keep in the mud room -- things we need to bring but don't need to use between now and then -- as I continue to try to manage the day-to-day chaos that is summer vacation.

I can't imagine how families with multiple children do it. Then again, maybe their children entertain each other, diminishing the need for them to leave the house to find something fun to do that doesn't involve a remote control or a screen (movies notwithstanding).  But as the work-from-home parent of an only child, I find that I need to adjust my schedule rapidly and frequently.

It doesn't help that my brain tends to have two settings: "plan way ahead" and "oops, that's due tomorrow." I buy birthday cards two weeks ahead of time, then end up racing to the post office to mail them so they arrive on time. Add to that a very um, optimistic sense of how long it really takes to do something and I often find myself revving my engine, only to have to throw the car in park, pick up another passenger and go somewhere else.

The thing is, I really enjoy finally being the mom who can drive, the one who can take kids somewhere on a moment's notice, the one who can be called in case of emergency. What I don't enjoy is the crazy, clutter-covered world that seems to emerge as a result of these decisions. Add to that the approach-avoidance sense of independence that's a fact of life with a teenager and I find that I spend more days feeling run over than feeling like I'm the one driving the car.

A schedule might help. That's how my husband gets things done. But when I think of all the things I accomplish that weren't on the schedule for the day when the week (let alone the day) began, and all the things we'd miss if we weren't open to spur-of-the-moment plans, I find myself feeling that schedules are overrated. And it seems that when I  think I have the schedule figured out, and plan to accomplish things based on the time frames I've set, something disrupts the balance, and I end up feeling even more frustrated because my plans fell through. Non-productive is bad enough. Cranky and non-productive is unbearable.

I can only hope that by exposing my daughter to different time management styles -- living on schedule and scheduling around life -- that she'll find a happy medium. I want her to learn to set deadlines for herself, but also to believe that all things are possible, a belief that doesn't emerge easily from a life that's too tightly scheduled.

And the next time I'm frustrated (I've scheduled that for about 15 minutes from now), I'll try to remind myself that sometimes the best things happen in the wiggle room -- the times that remained available because I managed to find the balance between scheduled and flexible.

It does happen every once in a while.