Swirly-mind

In January I wrote three blog posts and three chapters in my Work-in-progress on three consecutive Saturdays. Then in three blinks of an eye I realize I have missed the last two weekends completely.  One blog post and zero chapters so far in February.  This proves something that we all know, action begets action.  Inaction begets inaction.  My momentum was interrupted and my lofty plans slid into some closet in my brain just that quickly. 

My problem is that Saturdays and Sundays are so precious.  I work five days a week like many people, Monday through Friday.  Dinners are late, work runs over, church and kid activities fill the evenings. You know the drill.  So on Saturday I have ten or fifteen things crowding into my brain for attention.  Groceries?  Video games?  Lounging? Dishes, laundry, taxes, piles of mail, someone's birthday, a new flip house, housecleaning, gardening, social plans, baking, sleep, movies, reading books, visiting with family, church, and?  And writing.

I know when I'm thinking clearly that if I could pick a vocation that feels like I belong in it, it is writing. And when I'm thinking clearly I make promises to myself and others that I will place priority on my writing time.  All the other things can wait.  But regardless, if I leave a sink of dirty dishes or pass up a baby shower to go write, I do not feel good.  

And when I'm thinking clearly, I know that I just have to do it.  Just go in my writing room and write during my office hours and all the other stuff will be waiting when I come out.  It is not so much hard to follow my own advice here, as it is easy to not follow it.  Swirly-mind is what I call it.  All the demands and needs are just there above my head, swirling in a soup of obligation and responsibility.  Even writing is in the soup now. 

My password right now is one that makes the annoying song pop into my head "Put one foot in front of the other..." But I do that on purpose.  I use my password more than 21 times a day, which is the number of times the adult brain is supposed to need to 'get' something.  So I keep reminding myself to stop looking at the soup.  Stop looking up and instead look down.  At my feet. And put one foot forward.  One blog post.  One batch of cupcakes.  One clean toilet.  That is the only way I've found to turn swirly-mind into productive human being.  And it works!  Well, some of the time anyway.  Some days the swirl hypnotizes me with the steady beat of  'Pick me. Pick me.'  But today? I looked down. 

Flip House: Take Two

When my husband and I were in our twenties and idealistic, living in high-cost-of-living Chicago suburbs, a tiny two bedroom house with no garage could easily run you over $100k.  We were used to Pekin prices, where one of the nicest house in town might go for that.  (this was 1984).  And along with some of our other early married dreams (a horse-drawn sleigh through our land to our tiny mountain cabin somewhere exotic like Colorado), we dreamed of eventually moving back to our small town and fixing up homes for a living.  30 years ago, the dream is born.  Four kids, 4 houses of our own, several career changes, and 30 years later we are living that dream.

We survived our first flip house.  We hoped to complete it in 3-4 months.  It took nine. We thought we'd do two of these a year, piece of cake.  We are doing one every two years.  It was a strain on the marriage and family life, taking up many, many weekends pulling out old nails, ripping up floors, painting old siding in the glaring sun.  But in the end, we did good.  We left the house 1000% better than we found it.  We made a little tiny postage stamp of the neighborhood a place where a family can enjoy living again.  We made some money on the house, not enough to buy the horse-drawn sleigh, but enough that we were pleased.  Of course if we figured it out to an hourly rate that might depress me.

We worked on that first house, removing the dirt and grime, the neglect and odors, the damage and disorder.  We lovingly and very slowly, improved it, giving it a fresh face, a solid foundation, and a few bells and whistles.  By the time our three months had turned into nine, we were both sick to death of visiting 'the flip house' and yet not ready to hand our baby over to just anyone.  Well, actually we were willing to hand her off to anyone for the right price, but we were attached.  So much positive energy, wishful thinking, color swatches, elbow grease, all handed on to the next owners.  And when it was over, it was a very happy and mildly sad time.  I needed a break.  I wasn't ready for the commitment it takes to give up shopping weekends and barbecues for paint rollers and putty knives.  But, here we are, one year after that first sale.  And we are ready to love again.  Like the first house, we stumbled upon this one after rejecting many on the market.   It took so long for the current owners to respond to our offer, we had almost forgotten about it after the first week or two of anticipation.  But then in January, the news came.  The prior owners were accepting our offer and we potentially have another baby to raise.  Another house that is. Another flip house.

I'm excited, anxious, kind of like the second pregnancy.  You know the pain ahead of you, your eyes are wide open, and yet it was a good enough experience, that you want to try it at least one more time. So flip house #2, here we go.  Let's hope you too someday become the house we drive by occasionally to see how the new owners are taking care of you, commenting once again with parental pride, "It really does look good, doesn't it"

Flip House #1: After. 2012

Story

I’ve read a lot lately about having an outline rather than going by the seat of your pants when you are writing.  The idea of an outline scares me because I don't have a good idea where my story is going when I start.  So today I think I’ll brainstorm story ideas.  I’m starting a new folder titled ‘story’ and I’ll just let it flow.   My setting is gelling up nicely, my characters are revealing themselves in an exciting way, but what is the story I'm trying to tell?   I don't have a lot of burning stories in my gut waiting to be released like you hear some authors do.  And truth is, these are the kind of books I like best. Quiet stories, where the characters are experiencing everyday life and making discoveries about themselves.  The feeling on one hand is that there isn't a market for that.  The feeling on the other hand is that if I like them, someone else must also.  So I have these people in this town, and I'm not sure what they should do next.  I read that this is a universal writer's problem.  But when I sit down to write an outline, meh.  It is like a faucet shuts down.  I feel more like free writing and just seeing what comes out.  I know it may not be the wisest course of action, but it feels right.  And after all, this isn't for publication, it is for my own expression of creativity.  I need to quit thinking what will thrill an agent and just go to town.