Friday Feature: So, Busy is Good?

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 I'm retired. Sort of. I joke that I retired, but it didn't take, and my friends shake their heads and laughingly comment that I'm busier now than I was when I worked full time.

Officially worked full time, that is. Now, teaching part time, writing part time, publicizing my books and doing the wife/mom thing, I probably work even more hours than I did then. Although I definitely could stand to improve the work/life balance some days, I'm not complaining. I'm busy doing things I love doing.

As it turns out, being busy might just be a good thing, especially for people my age. Whether it's the myriad learning opportunities, the constant exposure to a variety of new ideas or something else entirely, a Texas study shows a positive correlation between busyness and cognitive functioning for people in their fifties -- at least the people in their fifties who participated in the study.

Most days, this person in her fifties feels more busy than smart, but thanks to that study, I like my odds.

4 Things that are Different 4 Years Later

Four years ago at this time, I'd just turned in my letter of intent as the first step in my retirement journey. Things were emotional, to say the least. My family was less than thrilled with my decision -- the part of my family that lives in my house, anyway -- and I was alternately exhilarated and terrified. I was just beginning to share the news with my colleagues, very few of whom had seen it coming, as I was about a decade younger than retirement age. I was crying a lot, praying a lot and trying to act as though everything was normal, when, in fact, it was about as far from normal as my professional life had ever been.

Four years later, things are different. I still worry about money -- but I know very few parents of high school seniors that aren't thinking about money. A lot of other things have changed, though -- nearly all for the better.

My daughter, who was finishing middle school when I made this decision, is now finishing high school, and on the cusp of changes of her own. In the intervening four years, I've gotten to spend much more time with her than I would have if I'd stayed where I was. I'm here every morning when she leaves for school, and accessible nearly every day after school. I'm around most days when she and her friends come by for lunch, and though I make myself scarce so they can have their privacy, I love that I'm here. When she leaves for college next fall, I'll expect that I'll treasure these four years even more than I do now.

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My job is different, yet the same. I always thought I'd continue to work part time as a counselor, but when that door closed, I was more surprised than sad. As it turned out, being an educator was rooted in me more deeply. While I initially sought out jobs in community education to earn an additional paycheck because that was what I knew, once I got back into the classroom, I realized it was a part of who I am as well. And, though a part of me always thought it would be fun to teach at the college level, I never imagined leaving elementary education behind. Then again, I never imagined it would look the way it does today.

My writing is an enormous part of my life, which came as a surprise to no one. When I shared my intention to retire, all of my colleagues asked me if I planned to write. I'm not sure I'm cut out to be a full-time writer -- I'm used to the stimulation and interaction teaching brings -- but I love that writing of some kind happens nearly every day in this no-longer-new lifestyle. While I've been blogging for close to a decade, I didn't blog regularly until I retired. Though I had two nonfiction books published while I was working, I didn't publish a novel until after I retired -- and then, I had two out within two years. The combination of writing and teaching fills -- and drains -- the creative part of my personality.

My schedule is much more within my control. The first year, I had almost too much time on my hands, and last semester, I had almost none. But the pace of the days is up to me much more than it every was. While I still plan my day around classes, I don't have to report to a place of business (except when I teach), and though I get up to see my daughter off to school every morning (much more for me than for her), I can go back to bed when she leaves if I want to (and, as a non-morning person, I often want to). I can work until noon, take a long lunch, and make up the hours in the evening -- and I often do -- which is a great option for a night owl. My schedule now shifts three times a year instead of twice, and that is still taking some getting used to, but I love the freedom that comes with it.

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We never know for sure the impact of the decisions we're making when we make them. We can hope, pray and project, but every new choice carries new risk -- risk that inspires fear we can overcome only in the face of deadlines that force us to choose. Sink or swim. Now or never.

Maybe there's something to be said for the magic wands and crystal balls of fairy tales.

Or maybe they unnecessarily complicate leaps of faith.

Friday Feature: Marketing Your Passion

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When I told my colleagues that I was planning to retire, they were shocked -- mostly because I was about a decade younger than most people who make that decision. Once they got over their surprise, though, many of them asked me the same question.

"Are you going to write?"

Much as I loved being an elementary school counselor, my friends knew that writing is my passion. Yes, I procrastinate (wildly), yes, I get frustrated. But I can't imagine not writing.

When I read Neil Patel's article, How to Take Your Passion to Market In 6 Easy Steps, so much of it sounded like the advice writers get about building a platform. But that makes perfect sense, because that's what platform is -- a way "to take your passion to market."

What's your passion? Ever thought about taking it to market?

Trust and the Precipice

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Last week marked three years since I turned in my retirement letter. It was a short letter -- just a couple of lines -- which is ironic since it marked such a huge turning point in my life. I shocked a lot of people, including my husband, who didn't quite believe I was serious until I turned the letter in.

A lot has happened in these past three years, much of it very good. My favorite part, as I've often shared, has been being available for my daughter. I'm here most mornings when she leaves for school and most afternoons when she comes home. But as she heads into the second half of her junior year in high school, it's becoming unavoidably clear that this little ritual that I love will soon become obsolete.

I've been thinking a lot about this next change that's coming. As the talk about college becomes less abstract and more specific, I can't deny that the independence we've raised her to embrace is just around the corner.

It's easy to live in fear. Fear that the money won't last. Fear that I won't be able to keep up with the rising costs of insurance, tuition, retirement. Fears too frightening to give voice to.

Three years ago, I faced a lot of these same fears. They were much more crippling then, perhaps because I was doing something outside the norm, stepping out onto a precipice. But they're equally terrifying now because it's my daughter who's taking those steps, and she's nearly ready to let go of my hand.

Fortunately, it's hard to live in fear while simultaneously trusting that God's got this. And though I lacked that certainty when I wrote my letter, I became more sure of it as I took those first steps. I forget sometimes, and I falter, but most of the time, I believe what a friend of mine said when he was going through some employment uncertainty of his own: "I figure he hasn't brought me this far to abandon me now."

When I took my first tentative steps, I had no idea I'd end up where I am now. Though spending time on my writing was part of the plan, teaching at the college level was beyond the horizon. And it's just as well, because if I'd known, perhaps I wouldn't have been able to fully appreciate the time I did spend with writing at the top of my list.

My daughter's horizon lies ahead, and none of us can see beyond it, at least not now. And while I'll always have my hand outstretched in case she needs it, I don't really have to worry if she lets go.

God's got this.

The Conspiracy of One-More-Thing-Itis

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I always underestimate how long things are going to take me. I've long joked about having "one-more-thing-itis"-- that belief that I can get just one more thing done before I need to leave the house to go somewhere. Invariably, that one more thing is the thing that makes me late -- or at least the last in a series of things that contributes to my tardiness.

I often wonder how other people do it. How do they pull themselves away from a fascinating pursuit, a nagging to-do list or a comfy spot on the sofa and make themselves move on to the next thing? I suppose it's all part of being a responsible adult, which, if you ask me, is entirely overrated.

I thought that when I retired, I'd miraculously start being on time for things. Nope. I have, however, begun to discover the meaning of a heretofore foreign concept.

Early.

Early is something I studiously avoided for much of my adult life. Why be early? You just sit around, wasting time you could be spending on something fascinating, necessary or relaxing. Sure, you can bring along a book or an electronic device or even another human being to while away the time…but you can also finish that one more thing instead.

But even for a one-more-thing-itis person like me, certain circumstances call for early. I am routinely early for any class I am teaching anywhere because I know I need to make sure everything is set up properly. I am consistently early for book signings because I have a bag of supplies that I use to personalize the space I am given.

The common thread? These things require preparation. Simply showing up is only the beginning. There are final details to attend to, and simply being on time or -- gasp -- late! will not work.

I'm hoping that, having begun to grasp the heretofore foreign concept of early, I will begin to transfer this new skill to social engagements, appointments and other events that do not require set up or preparation. And since I'm an optimistic person by nature, I know there is always hope.

But I'm not holding my breath. As long as there is one more thing to do, I'm not sure that early is in the cards.

I always knew that when I retired, writing would be a big part of my life. I looked forward to the day when I could unapologetically devote long stretches of time to writing books, articles, blogs...whatever genre the muse bestowed when she visited.

But I never thought about the subtle differences that would emerge once I began to take my writing seriously enough to dub it a profession. Calling myself a writer seemed so audacious that the title brought with it a compulsion to produce, and it wasn’t long before I discovered that the muse played a very small walk-on role in the life of a serious writer. 

Inspiration is important, certainly, but writing, like any other profession, requires that the writer possesses the dedication to show up and do it, even on the days when the process isn’t easy. Just as good teachers need lesson plans to flesh out their inspirations, good writers need writing plans to develop the ideas the muse provides.

But a funny thing happened on the way to becoming a professional writer: it became increasingly difficult to “leave my work at the office.” 

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The weekend before last, for example, we were at the beach. I sat in a beach chair under an umbrella on a perfect beach day, with a bag full of magazines and a fully loaded Kindle. I had come prepared to read (and nap) without feeling guilty for not being productive. What was the first thing I pulled out of my bag? A notebook.

I have to write. Not because I’m under a deadline or even because a story is nagging at me (well, maybe a little of the second one) but because it’s a day that ends in “y”.

I’m not being a smart aleck. On days when I don’t write, or at least do something writing-related, I feel as though something is missing. I’ve been at this long enough and I have so many projects and ideas floating around in my head that there never seems to be enough time to tackle them all. 

When I don’t write, I feel as though something is missing; the day feels sort of off-kilter until I get some writing time in. I wish I felt this way about exercising or cleaning or cooking, but I don’t. Only writing.

And so when I pack for the beach -- or any other vacation -- I pack a notebook, and on this last trip, for close to an hour on beach days, I scribbled away, trying out a “beach sprint” in longhand. These entries will most likely become blogs (some, like this one, already have), and I will feel productive because I have them written ahead of schedule, but that is beside the point. Before I can read or nap or any of the myriad other things to be done at the beach, I must write.

A theatre friend of mine liked to say that we act because we must. Actors can’t not act. 

And writers can’t not write. Admittedly, some of our writing gets hidden away in a desk drawer or computer file; sometimes it’s the clutter we need to cut through to get to the idea inside. Those writings are a writer’s rehearsal -- not quite ready for an audience, but necessary to the writing process. 

And though it makes little sense to those who don’t share a passion for writing (and is, in fact, a source of irritation when it creeps into family time or vacation time), writing, for writers, is like eating and breathing and sleeping -- so much a part of who we are that we are unable to function when we go for long periods of time without indulging ourselves. 

We don’t know how to be any other way.

Twitter Truths

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Scrolling through the Twittersphere this morning, I had to chuckle at this tweet from Sarah Reinhard:

"What is this "biting off more than you can chew" thing people ask me about? Huh? #Igetitalldone #99percentontime"

And, of course, I had to retweet, not just because of Sarah's characteristically funny hashtags, but because the sentiment is oh-so-familiar.

I thought that when I retired, life would slow down. Though I knew I wasn't finished working, I also knew that whatever jobs I took on in this next season of my life were likely to be part-time, giving me
more control over my schedule and therefore more time to do all the things I enjoy doing.

As it turns out, that list is long, and retired or not, I still have only 24 hours in a day. In addition, the "jobs" -- as in the plural form -- which have replaced the single job I left behind two years ago --sometimes seem as though they require the energy of a much younger person.

Fortunately, these jobs add much to my life -- pleasure, satisfaction, creative and intellectual fulfillment. The one thing they don't add is time (in fact, they subtract it, sometimes exponentially).

But there's not a single one I'd relinquish. Some days, I feel as though my head is spinning, and other days, I simply curl up and take a nap in sheer self-defense, but overall, to quote Sarah's hashtags, "I get it all done, 99% on time."And on a good day, the energy I expend seems to create more energy in the process.

The truth is, I don't know how to be any other way. I've always approached life with an "all in" attitude; I'm just not capable of passing up the opportunity to do something I love. And when I pause and think about the things I might not have done if I'd been more practical with the expenditure of my time, I'm even more certain that saying yes -- within reason -- is right for me.

But it helps to know someone like Sarah is on the same crazy ride because let's face it -- life's better when you have company for the journey.

Word Count Wednesday: 5245 :-)

Resolutions and Goals and Calendars - Oh, My!

This year, for the first time, I am forcing myself to come face-to-face with my goals. When I made my New Year's resolutions, I wrote them as goals for several important areas of my life. I would never have attempted this while working full-time, but now that I'm retired and pursuing new adventures, it was a way of keeping myself on-track.

As I do this, and as part of my planning for the classes I'm teaching, I find myself going back to my tried and true resources. I first read Marcia Ramsland's Simplify Your Time a few years ago, and at that time, I only skimmed the sections on projects - very lightly. Back then, I was more interested in getting the day-to-day under control, and projects were something to be tackled...someday.

Now I am at a different stage of my life - one where so much of what I do is a project in and of itself, and I'm the only project manager. So, I find myself establishing the same SMART goals that were foisted upon me at work, and following the advice I've read in so many places for so long - setting annual goals, writing monthly goals and breaking them down into smaller chunks that can be managed on a daily or weekly basis. It's an entirely different mindset.

And it's actually kind of fun. (Admittedly, I might define "fun" differently than the average person). At the beginning of each month, I review my goals from the previous month and set new goals for the month to come, based on my accomplishments. I take the advice I read in Ramsland's book and write the projects (goals) for each month at the top of the page for the month in my planner. In addition, I look over my annual goals - the ones that began as New Year's resolutions - to see if I'm making progress.

If you'd suggested this to me five years ago, I'd've rolled my eyes and told you that it sounded like an awful lot of work. And you know what? I'd've been wrong. It actually doesn't take much time at all, and the payoff (staying focused and motivated much of the time) is worth it.

So, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to the next item on my list - working on this week's Friday Freebie.