Me First: Downsizing as an Upgrade

i·ron·ic   /īˈränik/

Adjective: Happening in the opposite way to what is expected, thus typically causing wry amusement.


I’m in the process of editing a project on the topic of literary citizenship. In the past (and scheduled in the future again), one of my most requested guest talks touches on this very subject. It’s one I personally admire, and something I aim to live by, as well. How, exactly, can we put a little more of ourselves into the lit community, to not only grow from creatively and with zest, but more so to sustain and foster the community around us…. etc… etc… 

So, yes, I am working on this project I adore and feel so good about.

Meanwhile, and perhaps ironically, something has to give.

I go through this phase usually once, if not twice, each year. I come to a place and time where I feel like I might possibly be stretching myself too thin in some areas. Why? 

Confession: I am a hoarder when it comes to taking advantage of opportunities. I have such a hard time passing up even the most miniscule of opportunities that appeals to me. These are not necessarily gratuitous in fortune, or in praise, but they appeal to me. Whether adding a new review gig to my plate or a speaking engagement that’s so close down the road that it can’t possibly take much of my time and, oh, wouldn’t that just be a nice thing to do, and how great it is to encourage emerging writers and, okay, so the pay is barely existent, if there at all, but just imagine those gracious faces when they think about their writing dreams and… and… and… Sigh. I hoard opportunities.  

I enjoy working in the community. I enjoy reviewing books. When able to do so, I will help out another writer, whether that’s nudging a bit of promo/marketing his/her way or responding to emails from those just starting out.

Yet I have a few personal mantras that thankfully keep me in check:

Strive for balance.

Ensure quality of life.

Save yourself before you try to save others.

And it has come to that time, once again, where it’s downsizing season in this writer’s office.

So, how exactly do I go about keeping balance? How do I measure my commitments and weed down the to-do list?

There is nothing scientific to the process, but I do call on my love of spreadsheets to aid in the decision-making. I review what I have done in the past year (for my own writing, for journals and freelance publications, for workshops and other activities within the community—locally and more broadly). I list off the time needed to accomplish ‘external’ commitments, as well as assign any monetary or side-benefits that result from such contracts. Then, I more and more closely look at how, if at all, these ‘jobs’ distract from my own creative work. Because, really, at the end of the day, a writer needs to have written something. A writer writes, yes? And if the writing suffers from a lack of time or focus, no amount of community outreach will make up for that.

Not that long ago, writer pal Joe Ponepinto wrote a blog post about writing for pay, or, rather, that writers should be paid. I agree. But, admittedly, I do take on some projects that pay in ways other than cash. I take on projects that push me, move me, or otherwise propel me forward. But, yes, I seek the paying projects, too.

Yet when I tally my year’s activities and seek to find where to cut, it’s not always the least paying gigs that I unleash from my commitment list. Sometimes, actually, I cut the best paying sources. Why? Sometimes those come at another cost: time and energy.

Really, then, the be-all-end-all of my assessment is this:

_Does X still add something to my life/creative endeavors?

_Does X still contribute to my greater goals?

_Does X take up too much time that could better be spent writing?

And, in a very subjective question, I admit, I also consider whether my efforts are truly appreciated. That’s a tough one to ask and an even tougher one to answer. But it’s important, too, to not only feel good about one’s efforts, but to feel others benefit from and appreciate what you can offer. That’s half the ‘pay-off’ sometimes. That’s the seed of literary citizenship, to give something of one’s self to others in the community. 

Writers write. Balance. Quality of life. Save yourself before you try to save others. These are the thoughts that I keep in mind regardless of adding to or cutting something from my schedule. The result is sometimes temporary, as I continually add (hoard) things throughout the year. And even when I feel guilty about cutting something from my task list, I remind myself this: I am not downsizing. I am upgrading.

Just the fax: What do you need to write?

I’ve been catching up on spring cleaning. As a writer, I don’t usually feel bad about being a paper junkie; I have a nice stash of stationery collected from various quaint shops visited during our road trips, a few shelves of media clippings spanning the years, and a small selection of files printed out for reference. Yet, when I was sorting through some dusty file folders, I discovered a displaced expense spreadsheet from 2002 and had to stop the binge/sort process to assess the situation.

In 2002, I was not yet working with my agent who helped steer my first book to publication, but the manuscript was in progress and nearing completion. In 2002, I was doing a great deal of freelance writing—reviews, cultural and event news, and the like—to supplement my more creative ventures. And, apparently in 2002, I earned myself a new computer to get all of the above accomplished.

In examining my expense sheet from more than a decade ago, it’s not the cost of the desktop that stopped me in my tracks. It’s the tiny little line item that shows my purchase of a basic fax machine—for $350.

During a holiday sale last year, I picked up a new fax machine for ten bucks after rebate. The ‘Brother 575’ isn’t fancy, but it does the job, particularly when there are so few demands for its use. It’s rare an editor sends a document over the landlines anymore. I have used this machine perhaps two or three times since its purchase, and mostly for cross-border business.

That original machine from 2002? I somehow felt I needed that on account of the contracts that were coming through by fax transmission way back then. Back then? Heck, that’s a mere decade ago. Yet it’s amazing how fast technology changes and how what was once a prime (and pricey) piece of communication now seems so archaic.

We all have artifacts collected during our writing and personal lives. We all have items we once considered necessities for our respective paths. Just last week, during a community writing workshop I offered, a student asked me what kind of computer she should buy. She had a pen and notepad ready to document what software, what brand of computer, what size of memory and capabilities would serve her best as she set out to write her first novel. I told her she had all she needed to complete the task, right there in her hands.

Paper. Pen. Write.

Yet sometimes we busy ourselves with ‘needs’ to distract from the real task. We wait for the perfect idea, the right time, when our schedule is clear, when our office is clean, when we have a better computer, or a more comfortable chair. Yes, environment is somewhat necessary to write in comfort. But we don’t need gadgets. We don’t need what will inevitably become artifacts on a shelf. We need only a pen and a stack of paper to get started.

Whenever I commit to the task of cleaning my office, I inevitably come across a piece of my own personal history that reminds me that no matter the gadgets or the fancy pens and cute stationery, regardless of software and hardware or even the style of font used, the one thing that is consistent, the one thing that remains the same over the years is my joy of writing. The writing continues with or without the ‘right’ utensils. Everything else is clutter on the shelf.

Creators of Habit: Writing that Works for You

In “7 F***in' Great Ways to Build Your Writing Routine,” author Phil Jourdan recently shared a tried and true science experiment. In an effort to increase his writing productivity, Jourdan researched the psychology of habit-formation. He then applied a few new theories and tricks to his daily writing routine—with perhaps not surprising results. 

Writers or not, we are all creatures of habit. We have our quirks and ticks. We have favorite TV shows that must be seen on a particular night with a particular snack, or we have preferred chairs for curling up with a good book. We are drawn to the familiar, be it fashion or cuisine. For those of us who write, we have—whether we acknowledge it or not—a pattern of behavior that either works for us or doesn’t. 

In his drive to understand his creative productivity, Jourdan took a serious look at how he spends his writing time. He made observational notes. He evaluated what aspect of writing results in the most (and least) word count. He set boundaries on social media and phone calls. And, most importantly, he acknowledged that there is something within him, something ingrained as part of his habitual act of writing, that governs all else. 

“Why? Because I am an animal and I respond to environmental cues.”

— Phil Jourdan, in 7 F***in' Great Ways to Build Your Writing Routine

So often I hear emerging writers speak about their productivity woes. “If I had more time to write”… “I want to write, but I get stuck”… “I have writer’s block”… and so on. We all hear it. We have perhaps been there ourselves.  

Yet I’ve often wondered how much of this lack of productivity is our own fault. Emerging writers hear so much advice, and all too often the tips for success are prescriptive, even if vague: Write every day. Wake up an hour early. Stay up an hour late. Don’t leave your page until you hit the desired word count. 

Specific? Yes, in some ways. But as Jourdan discovered, writing 250 words of dialogue is not the same as writing 250 words of narration. Every piece of the writing puzzle has a high or low and what may move quickly for one writer may be slow and draining for another.  Or, while one writer may find morning writing time to be exhilarating, another may find the early hours to be less focused. We need to recognize our own strengths and weaknesses whether these conform to someone else’s advice and standards or not. 

My own habits have altered over the years. I have not forced myself to change; rather, I have adopted in response to what has happened organically. I used to be a heavy night writer, staying up until 4 or 5am to complete a chapter. Now I crank out more words before 10am than I would have ever imagined. Our lives change. Our bodies and internal clocks change. 

Forcing myself to stick with the old habit would dampen my productivity. Instead, I have grown into the changes by recognizing my own habits. Like Jourdan, I acknowledge what works and what doesn’t—for me. While I used to enjoy the thrill of completing a chapter in full, I now prefer to leave a chapter incomplete at the very last paragraph. The next time I sit down to write, I know exactly where to pick up. I don’t need to generate momentum. I finish the train of thought left hanging the day before and in no time I am moving on to the next page, the next chapter. This is a trick I implemented organically a few years ago. I could have never foreseen this tactic working for me, but it does. Now. 

What Jourdan’s article brings home is this: our creative power is ours and ours alone. All the dos and don’ts offered by others are just one piece of the puzzle. It’s up to us to determine how and why we write the way we do. There are no wrong ways to go about your writing day. 

Learning what works for you—and working with that knowledge—can not only heighten your productivity, it can alleviate any lingering guilt that you’re doing something wrong or not living up to your potential when compared to others. If we allow ourselves to create in the environment that suits us best, and respond to those creature habits that influence our state of contentment, then we’re on the right track. Then we’re focused on the writing.

two-day poetry intensive at Solstice

For Immediate Release

Contact: Tanya Whiton, Assistant Director

whitontanya@pmc.edu (617) 731-7697

SOLSTICE MFA PROGRAM HOSTS STATE OF THE UNION — A TWO-DAY INTENSIVE FOCUSED ON DIVERSE APPROACHES TO THE CRAFT OF POETRY

[Chestnut Hill, MA, May 2012]  The Solstice Low-Residency MFA in Creative Writing Program is pleased to announce State of the Union: Diversity and Poetic Craft —a two-day intensive taking place as part of its summer 2012 residency, scheduled for July 6–15 on the Pine Manor College campus. Designed to encourage cross-pollination between styles and approaches to poetry, open up a broader discourse about the art of writing poetry, and encourage experimentation across poetic “camps,” State of the Union will offer a series of craft classes and elective seminars for both MFA students and interested writers in the greater community.

For course descriptions, dates and times, a detailed audit policy, and a downloadable registration form, go to: http://www.pmc.edu/mfa-classes-for-audit.

State of the Union will feature:

- Keynote speaker Stephen Dunn, author of sixteen books, including the 2001 Pulitzer Prize-winner Different Hours, and his most recent, Here and Now.

- 2012 Cave Canem Partner Poet Nicole Terez Dutton, winner of the 2011 Cave Canem Poetry Prize for If One Of Us Should Fall, forthcoming in fall of 2012.

- Experimental poet Amaranth Borsuk, author of Handiwork, selected for the 2011 Slope Editions Prize. She is currently a Mellon Postdoctoral Fellow in the Humanities at MIT.

- Multidisciplinary poet, performer, and scholar Tracie Morris, who has presented installations at the Whitney Biennial and the New Museum, among other venues.

- MFA faculty members Laure-Anne Bosselaar, author of three poetry collections including A New Hunger; Iain Haley Pollock, author of the poetry collection Spit Back a Boy, and winner of the 2010 Cave Canem Prize; Anne-Marie Oomen, poet, playwright, and essayist; Kathleen Aguero, anthologist and author of four poetry collections; and Steven Huff, author of two volumes of poetry and founder of Tiger Bark Press.

ABOUT PINE MANOR COLLEGE

As an undergraduate institution consistently ranked among the most diverse in the country, Pine Manor College emphasizes an inclusive, community-building approach to liberal arts education. The Solstice MFA in Creative Writing reflects the College’s overall mission by creating a supportive, welcoming environment in which writers of all backgrounds are encouraged to take creative risks. We strive to instill in our students an appreciation for the value of community-building and community service, and see engagement with the literary arts not only as a means to personal fulfillment but also as an instrument for real cultural change.

For directions to Pine Manor College, detailed faculty bios, and a program overview, go to: www.pmc.edu/mfa 

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