Living in a world of Post-It Notes
It's no secret that I love post it notes. I use them for story notes, for work notes, for family notes, for reminders, secrets, love letters, and everything in between. So, when I look around my desks--at home, or in my office--and it is scattered in post it note graffiti, it's obvious that my life is a bit out of control. And right now, there is a see of purple and yellow everywhere I look (and I wish my husband shared the same passion, I could at least blame it partially on him. OR imagine them all as love letters).
It's gotten so bad at work, that I have started to stack similar notes or action items in a PILE of post it notes, so that when I get the time to tackle one, I'll tackle them all (hey, this system works. I went through four piles this afternoon). But it also shows how overwhelmed I am in the day job right now. Not one of the post it notes surrounding my home office desk is for writing. Those are stuffed in a drawer, in my "writing" notebook. Which is exactly how my writing self is feeling right now.
Even with the progress I had last week on a short story I am working on, I don't feel completely at ease pulling those post its out of the drawer. The rest of my life is chaotic, so ignoring the chaos for my writing? It feels wrong. Even though, it is very right (I don't get paid a lick more for any overtime I work).
So, it is time to play a little mind game with myself. It's called What Do You Want to Be Doing in 5 years. It's very similar to the If You Could Have Any Dream Job What Would It Be but I have to change it up now and again to keep myself interested. And you guessed it already. Writing tops the list. Writing for myself (what I want, in my pajamas, at home, with my kids screaming at my ankles), it's living the dream.
I have no misconceptions of the work involved or the fact that I could end up living pay check to pay check (or contract to contract, or so I hear)--but at least I know it is on my own terms. And I'll really enjoy the bulk of my work.
Right now I am playing a balancing game between the day job, my family life, and my writing life. None of which given alone is very easy even on the good days. And as I've said it more times than I care to remember, it is a tiring battle. One that right now, is obviously losing. The ideas are shoved in a drawer--can that not be subliminally telling me something.
So, again, I am rearranging my life. Or trying to. So that my writing comes first. Work writing is being handed off when I can and re-allocated to others. And I am having those "talks" with my manager to get the work load under control. For maybe the next 6 months. Mind you, we'll be starting all over again near Christmas. It's worked that way my entire career.
I truly believe there is a way to balance all of this. Somehow. And I am not delusional in thinking it will ever be completely balanced. It's impossible. But I do believe (it's the romantic in me) that there is some way to commit to writing for me at least 15 minutes a day. Every day. Even with the day job. The family. The kids screaming at me from my ankles or from above my head (my son's looking to be a tall 16 year old in 10 short years from now). I'll be damned if I don't find a way to make that work. So, in a world of post its, I'm pulling them from a drawer and putting that pile front and center.
It's gotten so bad at work, that I have started to stack similar notes or action items in a PILE of post it notes, so that when I get the time to tackle one, I'll tackle them all (hey, this system works. I went through four piles this afternoon). But it also shows how overwhelmed I am in the day job right now. Not one of the post it notes surrounding my home office desk is for writing. Those are stuffed in a drawer, in my "writing" notebook. Which is exactly how my writing self is feeling right now.
Even with the progress I had last week on a short story I am working on, I don't feel completely at ease pulling those post its out of the drawer. The rest of my life is chaotic, so ignoring the chaos for my writing? It feels wrong. Even though, it is very right (I don't get paid a lick more for any overtime I work).
So, it is time to play a little mind game with myself. It's called What Do You Want to Be Doing in 5 years. It's very similar to the If You Could Have Any Dream Job What Would It Be but I have to change it up now and again to keep myself interested. And you guessed it already. Writing tops the list. Writing for myself (what I want, in my pajamas, at home, with my kids screaming at my ankles), it's living the dream.
I have no misconceptions of the work involved or the fact that I could end up living pay check to pay check (or contract to contract, or so I hear)--but at least I know it is on my own terms. And I'll really enjoy the bulk of my work.
Right now I am playing a balancing game between the day job, my family life, and my writing life. None of which given alone is very easy even on the good days. And as I've said it more times than I care to remember, it is a tiring battle. One that right now, is obviously losing. The ideas are shoved in a drawer--can that not be subliminally telling me something.
So, again, I am rearranging my life. Or trying to. So that my writing comes first. Work writing is being handed off when I can and re-allocated to others. And I am having those "talks" with my manager to get the work load under control. For maybe the next 6 months. Mind you, we'll be starting all over again near Christmas. It's worked that way my entire career.
I truly believe there is a way to balance all of this. Somehow. And I am not delusional in thinking it will ever be completely balanced. It's impossible. But I do believe (it's the romantic in me) that there is some way to commit to writing for me at least 15 minutes a day. Every day. Even with the day job. The family. The kids screaming at me from my ankles or from above my head (my son's looking to be a tall 16 year old in 10 short years from now). I'll be damned if I don't find a way to make that work. So, in a world of post its, I'm pulling them from a drawer and putting that pile front and center.
Labels: life, me, writing, writing life
