June 2012 Archives

(The Great Productivity Experiment, part 1: Of Writers and Robots.)

Last week I did not write a single word. And I was productive!

I'm working on three projects right now, two of which are in the beginning stages, which means I did a lot of mind mapping and reading for research. Let us make the distinction between process-wise productive and product-wise productive. On Wednesday night I jotted down a few notes on the back of a bookmark--I was beside-myself excited--and those scribbles set everything in motion inside a certain fictional universe. But I could show you that little piece of paper and it wouldn't look like much, would it?

Things I have learned, or re-learned, this past week:

1. You know those studies that indicate listening to Mozart aids concentration? TRUE!

2. Being a "night person" or a "morning person" is ultimately a matter of choice (by way of discipline--my new favorite word, haha). I have always taken it for granted that I'm the former, but I got up at 7 (that's early for me) a couple of days last week and I liked it. I like feeling a sense of accomplishment earlier in the day. Imagine that!

3. Forgetting my power cord at home is not what I meant by "Mac Freedom." That said, I'm really loving it (the program, I mean). I occasionally get "the twitch"--Wikipedia! HootSuite! Gmaaaaail!--and then I remember I'm cut off, and get back to it.

4. Going for a run first thing in the morning makes me feel awesome, which probably helps my productivity. As they say, exercise is healthy for the brain too.

5. "A watched pot never boils." This week I wasted time fretting over project #3, a short story for an anthology submission. (Part of the issue is, of course, that I don't really write short stories; people think I am joking when I say writing a novel feels easier than writing a short story. But I was very kindly invited to submit to this anthology, so I'm going to give it my best shot.) Anyway, I never come up with a workable idea by consciously thinking about it--it just has to occur to me. There's no way around that. So I resolved to focus on the other projects, and as I was walking home from the library Thursday night the solution presented itself.

As for the other two projects, one is a nearly-finished YA novel I began a year ago this month, and the other is another children's novel. I need to push myself to finish the draft of the YA novel so I can focus on the new children's novel, which I'm most excited about. The plan is to get a detailed outline ready to go, a la Rachel Aaron, and then we'll see just how (product-wise) productive I can be.

In case anyone is wondering: after these two novels are in the can, yes, the project after that will be a novel for grown-ups!

I love the idea of an "unrecipe," where all ingredients are "to taste." This one is a really easy knock-off of the "balela" you can find at Trader Joe's in a tiny plastic container. I like to make a whole tub of this stuff.

--chickpeas
--red onion (chopped up in the food processor)
--cilantro (also finely chopped)
--vine tomatoes
--lime juice
--olive oil
--salt and pepper

Mix and devour!

It seems like all of Twitter (or at least my writerly corner of it) is excited about Rachel Aaron's "How I Went From Writing 2,000 Words a Day to 10,000 Words a Day." No, that is not a typo.

Of course, my first reaction when reading the article was "I'm a writer, not a robot!" I've never liked wordcounts. They may seem like the most concrete measure of productivity, but obsessing over your daily output feels somewhat counterproductive.

@PettyMagic @novaren I think each book is different. Some flood. Some trickle.

-- McCormick Templeman (@McTempleman) June 3, 2012

But I don't want to linger on that. Whether we write 500 or 5,000 words, the point is that we've actually focused on our work for the better part of the day. For me (as for most of us, I suspect), the internet is far and away the greatest obstacle to productivity. I know that I get WAY more done when I deny myself WiFi access, and I need to get serious about staying offline while I write. I've seen other writers tweet about Mac Freedom, and I used to scoff at the concept--like you can't just summon the willpower to disconnect?

The thing is, I can't. I shut down the web browser and resolve to focus, but then I think about just one teensy thing I can look up really quick, and then I'm done for. Shaming myself into good work habits just got a whole lot more appealing. I'm going to use Mac Freedom as part of a productivity experiment.

No Twitter.
 
No gchat.
 
No Firefox.
 
No Gmail notifier.
 
Rather, these things will be limited to short periods in between writing sessions--at the beginning, middle, and end of the day. If I think of something I need to look up, an email I need to send, or whatever, I've got my notebook at my elbow. Fortunately, I haven't forgotten how to use a pen.

There's more to this than the distractive power of the internet, though. Rachel Aaron is not a hack; she is a disciplined writer with real-life responsibilities. She makes every second count. I am a not-very-disciplined writer with no kids, no day job and no mortgage. If I first thought of Rachel Aaron as a robot, it was only because it let me off the hook. It's time to stop making excuses.

@novaren I recently wrote a book at a rate of between 7K and 10K per day, and I actually hurt my arms. Fun, but they still hurt!

-- McCormick Templeman (@McTempleman) June 3, 2012

So my own productivity experiment means pulling together the gap between what I want to, need to, or "should" do, and what I actually do. That's why I went for a run this morning, and why I spent what felt like too much time cleaning, cooking, and packaging up something I promised myself I'd send to someone who did something awesome for me. It's why I'm going to begin meditating on a daily basis. Steven Pressfield talks a lot about "the resistance" in The War of Art, and man, is he right. You don't want to do something, but you do it anyway, and afterward you feel amazing. (I also love what Victoria Moran said in her lecture at the NYC Veggie Food Fest back in March: whatever you're most likely to skip, whether it's exercise, meditation, or something else, do that thing first. Literally as soon as you wake up.)

I want to lean into that resistance. I want to get up and run when the smaller part of me would rather stay in bed. I want to make conscious decisions about how I'm spending my time, so that I can ultimately live a more creative life. Yes, I'm already living a creative life, and it may seem counterintuitive to use discipline as a creative tool, but there is such beautiful, subtle logic in it.

Apart from using Mac Freedom to stay offline, I'm going to make a list of what I need to get done each day (I don't routinely do this), and when I'm writing, I'll make a note of my wordcounts by the hour, because the business manager in Sarah convinced me to take the spreadsheet idea seriously. Today, as Rachel suggests, I'm going to plot out the rest of my YA novel in way finer detail than I ever have before. (That's how she's able to write 10,000 words, by the way--I doubt anybody could be that insanely productive without first, as they say, "laying the groundwork.") When I am surfing the internet I will remind myself that I don't have time for virtual rabbit holes. (Or, to be more realistic, I won't indulge in them so often.)

And whatever I said before about wordcounts, I would like to kick my own butt and reach for 10k at some point. I'm pretty sure I couldn't do it every single day--I feel dazed enough after 2k!--but I think shooting for it once in awhile would be pretty awesome. (And it would be an ideal strategy for a residency!) But I feel good about these changes for now.

I'll write about my progress next Monday.

@novaren It was crazy. Felt like automatic writing. You've got a Flaubert thing going on. 500 words, but probably the right ones.

-- McCormick Templeman (@McTempleman) June 3, 2012

Read more on Rachel Aaron-inspired writing productivity experiments here:

Nova's The Writing Productivity Experiment of Doom (or Great Success, Depending)

Holly Black: Project: Write Faster
 
Holly Black: Project: Write Faster / EARLY RESULTS

(Squam, part 1. More Squam recaps here.)

When you come looking for sugar,
your bag will be examined
to see how much it can hold;
it will be filled accordingly.

--Rumi

This year's Squam adventure kicked off early with a lovely surprise from Amy Lou, who was fresh off the plane from India (she sent this before she left but it took awhile to get here):



I left for Squam feeling a little bit stressed about my manuscript--how the heck am I going to fix this thing?--but by the end I felt totally chill. Everything seemed doable again and I felt loved and serene and nourished. It's the kind of contentment you can only reach by spending four days in the woods making art with 200 friends.

Okay, so I didn't have a chance to chat with all 200. As they say, a stranger is just a friend you haven't met yet.


Evenings at the Playhouse. Incandescent Elizabeth. Ahhhhhhhhh.


I made new friends, and grew to love my "old" ones even deeper. It is the loveliest feeling to know there's noplace else you'd rather be, and no one else you'd rather be with.
 

So in love with @pettymagic. One of the most beautiful people I know! instagr.am/p/LtiQmbgU7a/

-- Anne Weil (@flaxandtwine) June 10, 2012

Mumsy came along this year, and we had a great time. We took an embroidery class together, and she also took Helene's food photography class:



Savory scents wafted out of the Deephaven kitchen while we worked on our personal monograms in Jessica's embroidery class:



Jess's "E," Crystal's "J," Carol's "B," my "O," and Suzanne's "S." The "A" in the background is Jessica's sample. What a great gift idea! And Jessica is a fantastic teacher.


This shot is so Amy.
 

Bonnie had her sampler from Rebecca's class last year beautifully finished.


Renee's project inspired some serious embroidery envy! (There's a flamingo on her head!)

As you can see, I took two embroidery classes, and they were both awesome. Jessica and Rebecca have very different styles, and I really admire them both.



I was a total enabler at the art fair ("should I?" / "BUY IT, BUY IT!") That gorgeous dress Anne's wearing is from Hodgepodge Farm. My goal for next year is to draft that pattern out of Cal's book and get it sewn! Also, the lovely sweater I have on is Bonnie's Pomegranate. I can't wait to knit it!

(I will also be blogging soon about the dress I'm wearing in that photo. Yes, I made it!)

There will likely be a "Squam, part 3," since there are more photos I'm hoping to get from friends (especially one Jessica took of me and Elizabeth!) And how did I fail to get a photo with my dear Kathy (aka Sweeneybird)?! Oh well, I guess I'll just have to hop on a bus to Boston ASAP...

Anne, Amy Lou, Jill and Jeanne, Saturday afternoon, Greenwood dock.


Evening light reflected by the surface of the lake.


Remember this?


A cicada shell (?) stuck to the porch screen.


Cragsmere.

More soon.

One day last summer I was on my way to the library when I ran into my neighbors chatting with a visitor in their driveway. Herb and Hazel introduced me to their friend, and said excitedly, "Camille has published novels!"

"Well, isn't that something," the man replied. "My daughter writes paranormal romance. She just got a two-book deal. Six figures. What are the names of your books, and how many copies have you sold?"

Not only does this line of inquiry make my skin crawl--as if my sales figures are the whole point of what I do!--but this man was quite obviously trying to make himself feel like "somebody" through his daughter's accomplishments. I extricated myself from the conversation as quickly as I could, and walked away feeling as if I'd somehow been violated. This man was literally in my face, comparing me to his daughter, eager to prove that she was the more successful writer. If I'd been subjected to this type of talk at the age of 12 or 13, I would have run home and cried.

Everything will make you feel small if you let it. Don't let it. *Lesson #788 in not comparing yourself to other authors.

-- Nova Ren Suma (@novaren) May 23, 2012

When I was a young teenager I came across a piece of advice that changed my life: don't compare your insides to other people's outsides. I can't remember where I read this--it may have been Go For It!, by Judy Zerafa, that classic pep-talk-in-a-book--but it was so true and so obvious that I might have literally smacked my forehead. Middle school had felt like an endless cycle of classmates' mean-spirited jabs and wanting to make myself unrecognizable. You probably know how it was--as if getting contact lenses, braces, and jeans from the Gap would stop the catty girls from drawing dogs on the chalkboard and labeling the doodles with my name, or throwing paint chips at me in art class while our teacher's back was turned. These kids were just as insecure as I was, and making fun of a more sensitive classmate was their way of coping with it.

I got to high school, armed with that inside-outside insight, and stopped caring so much what people thought of me. I still occasionally got made fun of, but I knew those taunts had everything to do with the insecure person hurling them, and little if anything to do with me. I enjoyed academics and art classes and after-school sports. I got excited for college. I didn't feel inadequate anymore.

And I don't feel inadequate now. No matter how many times people ask me pointedly "how well" my books are doing, no one can make me feel inadequate ever again.

Men know that women are an overmatch for them, and therefore they choose the weakest or the most ignorant. If they did not think so, they never could be afraid of women knowing as much as themselves.

Virginia Woolf and I did not much like each other on our first meeting. It was junior year of high school, and when my English teacher gave us a choice of novels I picked To the Lighthouse. Her characters did much too much mooning about, stewing in their own selfish concerns. How that book exasperated me!

This time around I am older and therefore more patient, and so I revel in the product of Woolf's rich and fertile mind even when she cannot seem to finish a paragraph. This is not just a book to inspire women writers; it is a book for writers and readers and thinkers of both sexes.

I'd always assumed A Room of One's Own was a sort of manifesta, and if it is, it was written in the very highest spirit of feminism. The only men Virginia Woolf ridicules are those pompous middle-aged professors of her day, who try a little too strenuously to assert their intellectual superiority (see also epigraph). Lesser male writers, she says, are preoccupied with themselves, while lesser female writers cannot write without concern for the expectations and opinions of others. Genius is not something we can only admire in rich white men, though Woolf recognizes and reveres it in the great writers of the past who happened to come of privileged backgrounds. Women writers have just as much potential for greatness, so long as they possess what Coleridge called an "incandescent mind": a mind free of all bitterness and distraction. This, of course, is the tricky part--the reason this book needed writing, and why A Room of One's Own is just as relevant today as it was in 1928.

The reason perhaps why we know so little of Shakespeare--compared with Donne or Ben Jonson or Milton--is that his grudges and spites and antipathies are hidden from us. We are not held up by some 'revelation' which reminds us of the writer. All desire to protest, to preach, to proclaim an injury, to pay off a score, to make the world the witness of some hardship or grievance was fired out of him and consumed. Therefore his poetry flows from him free and unimpeded. If ever a human being got his work expressed completely, it was Shakespeare. If ever a mind was incandescent, unimpeded...it was Shakespeare's mind.

As for the necessity of an independent income and a lock on the door to one's own work room, you know I'm a fan of Bukowski's air and light and time and space--the gist being that an artist creates regardless of circumstances. But Woolf makes a good point, quoting Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch in The Art of Writing: "What are the great poetical names of the last hundred years or so? Coleridge, Wordsworth, Byron, Shelley, Landor, Keats, Tennyson, Browning, Arnold, Morris, Rossetti, Swinburne...of all these, all but Keats, Browning, Rossetti were University men; and of these three, Keats, who died young, cut off in his prime, was the only one not fairly well to do." A poor poet, concludes Quiller-Couch, "hasn't a dog's chance."

Of crucial importance, too, are opportunities for travel and independent experience. Woman or man, any writer who cannot leave the house will suffer from a stunted imagination. As Woolf writes of Charlotte Brontë, "One sees that she will never get her genius expressed whole and entire...She will write in a rage where she should write calmly. She will write foolishly where she should write wisely. She will write of herself where she should write of her characters. She is at war with her lot. How could she help but die young, cramped and thwarted?"

Which brings us back to the "incandescent mind." An incandescent mind is also an androgynous mind, Woolf writes--what Mary Gordon (in her foreword) calls "a pure vessel...for the transmission of reality." Male writers should strive to use what feminine impulses they find inside themselves, and vice versa. The sexes need each other, are inspired and invigorated by each other; neither is superior.

One cannot think well, love well, sleep well, if one has not dined well. The lamp in the spine does not light on beef and prunes. --V. Woolf

-- Camille DeAngelis (@PettyMagic) May 23, 2012

A Room of One's Own is a delight, even as it asks us to stomach unpleasant truths on every page:

And one gathers from this enormous modern literature of confession and self-analysis that to write a work of genius is almost always a feat of prodigious difficulty...dogs will bark; people will interrupt; money must be made; health will break down. Further, accentuating all these difficulties and making them harder to bear is the world's notorious indifference. It does not ask people to write poems and novels and histories; it does not need them...if anything comes through in spite of all this, it is a miracle, and probably no book is born entire and uncrippled as it was conceived.

We will go on writing, of course, in the face of indifference, skepticism, illness, economic hardship, and whatever other difficulties life may hurl at us; and if we manage to create something of value, something resulting from but not marked by aforesaid trials, some reader someday may even call it genius.


(Check out my 100 Great Books list here.)