by Naomi | Mar 6, 2018 | Creative Life
I’m not a fan of excuses.
And, not in a blow a whistle and shout, “Get to work!” kind of way. More in a roll-up-my-sleeves, experiment-until-you-figure-it-out kind of way.
Excuses are snarly enemies of momentum. They snap at our heels and grab for us with grubby little fingers, hoping to drag us into inertia quicksand. Once we’re sunk, wow is it difficult to scrabble our way free.
A large part of my job, working with educators, with students, with artists, with my team at Society of Young Inklings, is to glare excuses in the face and say, “Not on my watch.” So, it’s probably not surprising that I feel particularly grumpy when I wake to the sound of excuses throwing a dance party at the foot of my bed.
Here we are. It’s March 5, and my last blog post was on January 20. For the larger part of 2017, I posted once a month or so. Now, there are definitely reasons. For one, I’ve been posting more regularly over at Society of Young Inklings because we’re in the midst of a (very exciting) growth curve at our nonprofit for youth writers. Also, I’ve been hard at work backstage on larger creative projects that I can’t share just yet.
Still, to me, these reasons have the sharp scent of excuse to them.
Knowing that I mean to blog, and don’t, takes wind out of my sails every week. Over time, I prove to myself that I’m the sort of person who plans but doesn’t necessarily follow through. My confidence erodes. My optimism suffers. The excuses pole-vault from one area of my life to another and before I know it, my life’s rhythm is completely out of whack.
Today, I’d finally had enough. I decided to hop online and share a little of my thinking real-time. Maybe you’ve had situations like the one I’m in, where you realized that your expectations and your reality weren’t matching up. What did you do?
Here’s what I’m thinking.
- I could take an official break from the blog. This would be a reasonable strategy, and would send the excuses packing. Unfortunately, it would also mean I couldn’t blog, which is a problem. In the past few weeks, I’ve actually been prepping for a more regular editorial calendar. I’m looking forward to blogging regularly … I’m just not quite ready yet.
- I could set a launch date for my new approach and build toward it. While a date is also a deadline, I actually like the sound of this possibility. It gives me breathing room, and also a healthy dose of accountability.
- I could force myself to start today and carry on, posting once a week, rain or shine. But, you deserve my very best. My posts ought to rattle fresh creativity loose for you, or at the least, send you back to your projects with renewed enthusiasm. If I bully myself into blogging when I’m not ready, I fear I might inspire you to bully yourself, too. No, thank you.
- Or, I could decide to close down the blog. But, I love writing from my heart to yours. So, for me, that’s really not an option.
I may have found a solution in the possible launch date, but I want to explore how to make it a viable one for the long run. Because the truth is, my bandwidth for producing meaningful content will ebb and flow. As an author, book deadlines come before blog intentions. As a founder and Executive Director, the stability and health of Society of Young Inklings are also top priority. And beyond work commitments, I have health, family, friends, to name a few. And life isn’t always predictable.
Over the years, I’ve learned a lot of excuse-extermination strategies. Most often, I return to the simple question starter: “How might I…”
Step One: Craft a question to focus my attention tightly on the problem.
How might I be realistic, true to my priorities, realistic, and make an excuse-free commitment?
Step Two: Brainstorm options.
- Commit to post infrequently, maybe once a month.
- Repurpose old posts along with the new ones.
- Create some short-form post formats. Every post doesn’t have to be epic. (Readers appreciate short, too!)
Step Three: Choose an approach and experiment.
I think I’ll commit to starting the blog again on April 3. I’ll post on Tuesdays and possibly add a bonus post on Thursdays. Some posts will be small. I’m not going to demand perfection. If I’m in a busy season, I’ll show up on Tuesday and tell you so. It might just be a sentence or two. But what I learned writing this post, (and here’s what I hope might be applicable to you, too) is that even mid-process, our thoughts can be useful.
Are you battling excuses, too? Maybe it’s not a blog for you, but it’s a book, or a painting, or even an exercise routine. Would it help you to stop, ask yourself a focused “How might I …” question and brainstorm solutions?
It certainly gave me a fresh gust of wind in my sails.
Thank you. Knowing that you’re out there, living life, popping by the Writerly Play blog now and again for ideas and inspiration, means more to me than you likely know. Perspective, growth, clarity… I gain all of these and more by shaping my ideas on the page, and especially when I hear back from you. I love hearing what you see and notice and wonder. So, please. Always, always, feel free to reach out and share your experiences, too. Tag me on Facebook or Twitter, or comment below.
Tell me: What expectations do you have for yourself that you’re not sure work right now? How might you adjust those expectations to make life work better?
Or tell me: Have you met the excuse gremlins? What kind of havoc do they cause in your life?
by Naomi | May 10, 2016 | Creative Life
In just a couple weeks, I’ll be taking a sabbatical. The word, from Latin (sabbaticus), Greek (sabbatikos), and Hebrew (shabbat) means “ceasing.” Or in other words, a sabbatical is a rest from work.
Here’s what I’ve noticed. The first question people ask after hearing about my sabbatical is: “What will you do?”
A tempting question, indeed, especially for an artist.
The minute this question is asked, my mind starts to spin. Six weeks with no external commitments! I could go do this, or create that, or learn this, or work on that …
Hmmm.
Isn’t the point NOT to work?
And yet, I can’t picture myself lounging on the couch eating bon-bons. Nor do I think that laying around and binge eating will produce the benefits a sabbatical is meant to bring.
And that brings us to the heart of the thing. Here’s why I want to take a sabbatical in the first place. I want to learn how to be purposeful without being my own personal task master. I want to let the dust settle so that in the quiet, I can observe the path I’ve traveled so far, see clearly where I am now, and glimpse where I’m headed.
Honestly, I’m not sure how to find my way to the quiet.
That quest will be my first task on my sabbatical. I’ll experiment, and see what happens. I’m sure that some attempts will be false starts. For me, work is so tightly woven into play and vice versa. Mindset is a huge part of the puzzle. The reason I’m drawing or playing guitar or hiking is likely more important than the activity itself.
I fully expect to learn all sorts of things that I can’t nail down clearly right now.
I like the idea of a quest. That’s not surprising, I’m sure, to anyone who reads this blog regularly. Maybe my very loose plan should be to take on a quest with three tasks, the first of which is finding the quiet. Wouldn’t it be lovely if I could find a doorway that remained, even after the sabbatical? Like a secret doorway behind ivy, maybe once found, the passage into the quiet could be forever known. That quiet space could be tended and nurtured until it blossomed.
I plan to post one more time before my sabbatical, and then I’ll be away for a while. When I return, I look forward to sharing about my quest, the tasks I discovered, and what I learned along the way.
In the meantime, here’s to you and to your journey.
by Naomi | May 4, 2016 | Creative Life
I know it’s happened to you. You have that freak-out moment when you realize that your world is simply too cluttered. You absolutely must–at this very moment–clear out your closet. Or your top desk drawer. Or your car. The trouble is, you’re craving clean and tidy and what you get is a messy pile.
The only way to clear clutter away is to take it out of the dark corners and deal with it.
Recently, I’ve been clearing a lot of things out of dark corners. Whether it’s a physical pile that I’ve pulled out of the closet, or an invisible pile, such as my unwritten task list, nearly every time, I’m hit at some point with fear, sharp and sudden. This pile! I think, throwing my arms up in despair. It might be more than I can handle.
As long as you can’t see the entire pile, you don’t know the distance between where you are and relief. You don’t know what it will take to achieve a clear closet or a clear calendar. The pile tells the truth. Here are the things you’ll have to decide about, and that you’ll have to deal with, before this mess is cleared up.
But we know that on the other side of the mess is the thing we’re craving. Clarity.
So usually, at least on good days, we push past the fear and tackle the pile. I’ve noticed the following questions have been helping me brave the rather large piles I’ve been tackling lately. Maybe they’ll spark some momentum for you, too.
- What problems do I see?
- I stack items in the pile into distinct issues. This approach requires mentally transforming the items from “stuff” into the problems they represent. Maybe a messy pile of notes points out that I need a better note taking system. Or a stack of mail might remind me that I need a holding space and reminder system for bills.
- How can I hide all the problems but one?
- It’s easy to get distracted. Once everything is sorted, I look for ways to hide the mess to give my brain clear thinking space. Sometimes I put the piles in boxes so I only have to deal with one problem at a time. In the case of tasks or projects, I will sometimes write each project on a separate piece of paper. Then, I’ll make decisions about what needs to happen with that particular project. Maybe it needs to go into my to-do list. Or maybe there are a lot of steps to a project and what I need is to calendar it out in stages or put it into a project management tool.
- What solutions might I try?
- Once I’ve focused on an issue, I’m tempted to search obsessively for the perfect solution. However, the ideas that result from the question of what I “might try” are usually more creative than the ones that show up when I ask myself how I will “fix this.” Fixing feels set in stone and often stumps me.
Clutter, whether it is physical, mental, or emotional, crowds out creativity. If we allow the messes to stick around in the dark corners, eventually, our creativity is struggling to thrive in a sunless, oxygen-deprived space. However, when clutter is our creativity block, dealing with the situation is challenging. As we take out the mess, the trouble explodes across our physical or internal space. A flood of emotion is quick to follow. In these moments, the thing that helps me most is remembering that it’s not just me. I’m not the only one who who sets out to deal with some clutter, and finds that what’s required is determination, resilience and courage. All because of a pile!
If your closet, to-do list, or office is in need of some spring cleaning, remember … when push comes to shove, you’re not alone. And you CAN do this, no matter how it feels in the moment. Even a mountain can be moved one shovelful of dirt at a time. I’d love to hear your spring cleaning stories, be they survival tales or monumental successes. Share away below, or join me over on Facebook or Twitter to chat.
SaveSave
by Naomi | Apr 13, 2016 | Creative Life
Is there something you’ve been wanting to try?
Do you long to learn something new?
Do you wonder whether it’s okay for you to noodle around on a guitar, or sign up for a drawing class, or try your hand at growing succulents?
I’m wondering … Why shouldn’t you?
When you ask yourself why you shouldn’t, the list probably tumbles out:
- I’ve never really played an instrument before.
- I’m not good enough to be a professional illustrator.
- Neither of my thumbs are green.
And the list goes on. Let’s look at the reasons, though, really look at them. It turns out they’re are all the same.
I’m afraid I might fail.
Somewhere along the way, we cross an invisible line of adulthood. When we do, something terrible happens. We misplace up our permission slip. We decide we’re only allowed to do things at which we will not fail. How do we know we won’t fail? Because we built that skill set when we were kids … back when it was okay to fail.
Don’t miss this … it’s important.
To learn new skills, you MUST fail. You have to try that guitar chord and let it buzz and twang as your fingers build new muscles they don’t yet have. You have to draw a street scene in wonky perspective to learn what your artist eyes don’t yet see. Should kids be the only ones with permission slips for failure? Should you spend 16 or 18 years of your life learning and the rest only repeating those things you already know how to do?
I’d like to give you a permission slip.
I’m giving it to you because sometimes I need one too. Your permission slip doesn’t have qualifiers, such as:
- You may fail as long as you turn your failure into something beautiful
- You may never fail in the same way twice
- You must immediately see what each failure has taught you
Consider the one year old who is learning to walk. Even if she falls down a hundred times, she will keep pushing herself to her feet and trying again. She knows that eventually she will walk, it’s only a matter of time. She’s not keeping score, moving toward an ultimatum. “If I can’t walk without falling down by tomorrow, then …”
Then what?
We all need a permission slip because every once in a while we need a reminder that it’s truly okay to be right where we are, smack dab in the middle of our messy learning process. It’s okay for us to try and fail and try and fail, and then take a break and try again. And it’s okay to decide after a while that the guitar isn’t for you. Just make sure you’re not putting the guitar down as a punishment for your lack of super-star skill. Your permission slip doesn’t expire.
You are allowed to be a learner.
In fact, being a learner makes you an interesting, attractive person. When you publicly share your learner status, you give others permission to be learners too. What if being a learner was catching? What if because you decided to take voice-over lessons, your best friend decided to try writing a picture book? And what if her brother, while watching her write a picture book, signed up for an animation course? And what if one day that picture book was published and as a team, the three of you, plus a few new friends, created an animated short feature … which not only was a joyful collaboration but ended up inspiring a whole classroom of students to try writing stories of their own … and on and on and on it could go.
Let’s pass out permission slips this week.
No, honestly. Let’s actually do it. Let’s hand-write permission slips and leave them for loved ones to find. Slip them under pillows or into lunch bags. Let’s help one another see that we do, in fact, have permission. Let’s remind one another that it’s truly okay to play around, to experiment. And while you’re at it, make a permission slip for yourself, too. Decide what outrageous thing you’re going to try, not because you’re going to take this on as your new career, but because you want to give it a whirl. I’d love to hear how it goes. Will you tell me the story below in the comments? Or you can tell me on Facebook or Twitter. Anywhere, really. I’d love to hear your permission slip story. I can’t wait to cheer you on as you play around and have some fun. Go ahead. You have permission.
—
Psst… Do you know about Naomi’s Tinder Box: a weekly collection of curated resources, inspiration and encouragement? Keep your creative spark ablaze … sign up for exclusive access here.
by Naomi | Apr 6, 2016 | Creative Life
When we don’t leave room in our plans, we squash the possibility of surprise. What’s worse, we often don’t realize we’re limiting ourselves.
Picture two actors onstage, beginning an improvised scene.
Actor One: (pointing frantically) Oh no, look, it’s a Tyrannosaurus Rex.
Actor Two: (leaning forward) And look, he’s nodding at us. I think he’s trying to tell us something.
Actor One: He’s running straight toward us! Run!
Actor Two: (running along behind Actor One, looking over her shoulder) I wonder if we should try to talk to him?
Actor One: He’s a monster. AGGGGH! Run!
Actor Two can’t salvage the scene, and ends up running offstage with Actor One. The scene is over.
In improv, we call this scenario “saying no.”
Actor One began the scene planning for a T-Rex to chase her offstage. No matter what her scene partner said, Actor One insisted the scene go as she planned. She said no to all the options and possible surprises Actor Two introduced.
Why might this happen?
Actor One might be feeling nervous. The audience is watching, and the silence is lengthening. So, she blurts out the first thing that comes to mind. There’s a T-Rex! Good! Drama. Danger. The silence is broken. But Actor Two, relieved of the burden of introducing the first idea, sees the dead-end problem in the scene. Two actors shrieking and running away isn’t really a scene. So, Actor Two introduces the possibility that this T-Rex isn’t like other dinosaurs. If Actor One allows this new idea to develop, something interesting might happen. Neither actor is responsible entirely for the success of the scene. Both actors are likely to be surprised. When actors are bold enough to say yes to the unknown, interesting things can happen.
Often, we say no in our real lives, too.
- We have a firm agenda for a meeting or class and refuse to be sidetracked, even when interesting opportunities for learning or exploration arise.
- We mentally script a conversation or confrontation and don’t leave room to listen and respond in real time.
- We schedule our days to their very edges and don’t leave room for serendipitous detours.
Unfortunately, the solution isn’t as easy as throwing plans out the window. Classes, confrontations, and even day-to-day schedules suffer if we don’t prepare at all. Maybe here, we can learn a thing or two from improvisational actors.
- First, improv actors know that improvisation is a skill to be practiced and refined. It’s not a “who cares, I don’t need a script” attitude. Rather, improv actors shift their focus from practicing for ONE predictable scenario into practicing for a MULTITUDE of scenarios. They practice listening, saying yes, and adding ideas to move the game forward.
- Second, improv actors know that every scene is an experiment. Some will work better than others, and some will completely fail. They accept the failures as part of the learning process.
- Third, improv actors build possibilities in the spaces between people, rather than limiting the options to their own experience, ideas and skill set. They aren’t afraid to collaborate and to allow others to help.
Recently, I’ve been challenged to take steps forward into new territory–artistically, professionally, and personally. What’s fascinating is how pertinent my improv training continues to be, no matter how far the challenge is from an actual stage. It turns out that improvisation can be a training ground for real life. As in on-stage improv, when you approach life’s situations with an open-for-surprise attitude, delightful things can happen.
I wonder: In what life situation might you practice the art of improvisation? I hope you try it, and if you do, share your story on Instagram or Twitter and tag me. I’d love to hear how the experiment goes for you.
