So, don’t you think it’s kinda funny that I started this little series about two weeks ago — with an explicit promise to discuss how I manage my own process — but since then my process has been so unmanageable that I’ve never been able to make that post?
I’m hoping that most of you are thinking, "Yep. I feel your pain, sister."
But those of you who aren’t?
Who have tidy little tick marks all over your to-do lists and bedtimes that are within the realm of reason?
Could you do me a favor and not mention it?
‘Cause part of how I manage my process is to reassure myself that I am not alone, that I have many companions on the bumpy, root-ridden, overgrown trails I’m trying to negotiate. A stubbed toe’s not so bad if a friend is there to laugh when I kick the tree that caused it. And if I can recognize that the utter sense of order and consistent clarity I think I see in other people’s work and lives is illusory — that we all step, step, step and sometimes misstep — it becomes evermore feasible for me to move forward myself, without crazy expectations but with a sense of hope.
So.
Number one on my list of "things I do to survive manage my process" is to sustain a sense of community.
Writing’s a lonely affair — solitary and mostly quiet, though some days I can listen to some kinds of music while I work.
It’s exceedingly comforting to know that I have my best gals, my husband and my sis, my writer chums and the voices in the blogosphere, to serve as soundingboards and stepping stones along the way.
Number two, I diversify.
While I understand the call to "write full time," I’ve always needed to sprawl and range a little bit.
So first-off, I had kids.
Well, okay, that had a little something to do with love, optimism and body clocks — I didn’t really give birth just to broaden my daily portfolio. But I do relish the work at their school and the planning of slumber parties and the reading aloud at bedtime. Partly because it’s all such luscious pleasure, for and with these amazing little people who happen to be my daughters, but also because of the perspective it offers me.
I cannot lose myself in the one tight room of my work.
Even if I sometimes want to.
And when I am in that room, I have my teaching and my blogging and my poetry and, always, more than one children’s book project going at all times. I do not want to know what would happen to my sanity or social standing if I woke up one day with nothing to do.
Next, I ensure a little immediate gratification.
No need to recount here the glacial pace that is publishing, particularly picture book publishing.
The amount of time that one might wait for a submission to be responded to or a contract to arrive or a manuscript to become a book.
Suffice it to say, longer than you might think.
I need, sometimes, to put stuff out there immediately, to declare something finished and even, on a good day, to realize connection that way.
To be received.
There are lots of ways to do this.
Writing letters to my grandparents used to do the trick.
Blogging is pretty darn satisfying, too…
Fourth, I continue to develop, explore and expand.
Honestly, if my process grew stagnant I would never sell a thing and, plus, I’d pull all my hair out.
Which would hurt, since it’s already so curly and tangly anyway.
In order to grow my craft I read. A lot.
And I go to conferences and retreats when I get the chance.
I absorb all that I can from other writers.
I practice new things.
I dare to suck.
And I teach.
Which, ironically or not, is what keeps me on my tippy-toes more than anything else.
Trying to answer questions honestly and with depth is a very good way to begin to embody those answers myself.
And finally, I have faith.
Bearing in mind that that word makes some folks a little nervous.
But honestly, it is my faith that there are more ideas where that one came from…
that I will find the right words in this deep, dark forest of choices…
that there are editors and librarians and teachers and parents and children waiting for those words…
It is my faith in all of those things that keeps me coming back to my desk again and again and again.
To write.
Which is really, if you shave all this other stuff away, the heart of the process.
Lovely post, Liz.
I do many of the things you do. It so helps to have writer friends, both the in-person and internet kinds. And to have a few supportive non-writer types, too. I’m lucky to have an aunt who is a complete supporter, along with an encouraging hubby and a few non-writer friends who are truly interested in what I’m up to, and who don’t make faces or drift off if I actually answer their questions about my writing.
Faith is a good thing. Diversification, too. I need to diversify myself into bathroom cleaning mode, actually, but I’ve opted for “gift wrapping” as my dominant non-writing task today. (Laundry is always on the list. Pretty much every single day.)
Laundry is always on the list here, too.
I have taped a Pema Chodran quote onto my machine (When things are properly understood, one’s whole life is like a ritual or ceremony) so that I don’t resent it. Much.
Thanks for these wise and wonderful words!!
I don’t know if they’re wise and wonderful. In fact, I suggest you take them with a grain of salt since it took me two weeks to spit ’em out. 🙂 But they are true to me, I think. And maybe to lots of us…
“I dare to suck.”
Well, I don’t have a problem with that.
For me, it’s important to have hope in the mailbox, by which I mean mss are out there, and I could get a positive response or a revision letter at any time.
The problem with diversification is that I am not that good at juggling. I would like to get better, though.
Good post, because it makes me think.
Jennifer J.
Well, the thing about juggling is that you have to be ready and willing to DROP all balls if a project suddenly needs to move full steam ahead. Right? I find that hard sometimes — to know how engaged to get with each thing…
aah, the process
It seems as though you are truly finding joy in the process. Go for the joy. The joy. The joy!!!
Bernadette
TadMack says: 😀
Dare to Suck!
It should be a (stick-on) tattoo!
Thanks for putting out there that immediate gratification is not a sin. I haven’t managed to think of my blogging, organizing my writing group stuff and thinking/dreaming/sketching as that, but it is nice to sometimes have something from start to finish be done. Publishing does take forever. And, I also think it’s good to get out of the “one tight room” without guilt and without the feeling that you’re wasting time. I’m working on that aspect!!
This is so encouraging. I will have to return to it.
I love your faith! And I also feel your pain, sister. It takes so long to really live this life in balance… but the joy, as I keep telling myself, is in the journey…
I can totally do your process, sister. And be happy. Not one of the things on your to-do list makes me feel guilty or stressed or unworthy.
Now that I think of it, I probably do all these things already, but I never thought of them as process.
I love it that your immediate gratification (blogging this) is my “absorbing all that I can from other writers.” Faith-renewing, too.
Ha! Great post! I can definitely relate. I just got out suitcases to pack and realized that I couldn’t start until I unpacked them from our last trip!
Corey
http://www.coreyschwartz.blogspot.com
Love this post, Liz. And I especially resonated with what you said about teaching. I go about working my process differently than you do, but you hit on all the important parts–community, diversity, immediate gratification, daring to suck, development, etc.