On How Time Flies... And Setting Goals

 Had I not gone off fiction I may    

never have read this wonderful book

 

So I've been feeling super guilty about the fact that I haven't blogged in about four months...

It's a ridiculously long time.  BUT, in my defense, the reason I haven't been writing here is because I've been working on other writing projects.

For my entire life I've had a 'long time listener first time caller' relationship with literature.  I love books.  Aside from when I was decimated by pregnancy and lack of sleep, I have always read every day.  I have lots of friends that are writers, and lots of friends that, like myself, are also avid readers.  With these things smooshed together plus my personality, I am quite critical of a lot of writing, and have a strong sense of what I think is good.  I mean, I have spent huge chunks of time only reading non-fiction because I'd picked up too many badly written stories and was scared to jump back in.                               

Being in this position has meant the idea of writing anything myself - outside of the sphere of blog land, is terrifying.  Poetry didn't really count.  Not because I don't value it, I wouldn't have produced two chapbooks if I didn't.  I've just always written it and each piece is so short I never got caught up in the loop of editing.  About 18 years ago I decided to write a novel.  I wrote a plan, a list of characters and I started writing it.  About 10,000 words in I decided it was awful and deleted everything.  This was not the last time I did something like that.  Any time I tried to write anything substantial at some point I'd deem it terrible and erase it so I didn't have to look at it and feel that secret shame.

       Me on stage with the Boomshack 5.
Looking absolutely terrified (lots of fun though)

I had thought getting through art school where you have no time to be a perfectionist or edit compulsively or obsess over anything would have helped me in this.  Because it really did with my art.  Not so with writing.  I think because I have not studied it formally I never had the confidence to overcome my self criticism and maybe that's why I saw it differently to art.  Attempts at writing reminded me of all I didn't know, like that one time I got to play with a big band in Wellington and discovered I was the only person there who hadn't studied music (besides Samuel Flynn Scott, but his Dad was a producer).  They terrified me.

But I've always wanted to be a writer.

And something changed for me last year.  I got through a whole year of photographing birds daily.  And while I knew that none of those photographs were perfect I kept doing it anyway and it ended up culminating in an exhibition that was, in my eyes, successful.  It showed me that sometimes, you just have to do.  And after that year I decided that I should do annual 'give it a go' challenges.  The challenge for this year has been to write one short story a month.  It doesn't seem like much.  But for someone who hasn't written any fiction besides poetry (and none of that for about five years) since High School, it's a decent challenge.

And I have been following through.  I am fairly up to date with my writing challenge (I owe one extra story this month for earlier in the year, but I've almost finished my first October story and I'm only three days in, so feeling positive).  BUT with time and brain invested in fiction my blog has fallen by the wayside.  And I'm sorry.  I do think that now I'm in the swing of things I may get back atop the blog writing horse.  I hope so anyway.  And the reason I am writing this today, aside from guilt, is that the kids are playing nicely!  So I have a little more time.  And maybe, this might happen more in the future.

So basically, the purpose of this post besides profuse apology is to say I think it's really important to try new things, and to set goals.  Not only does trying new things help your brain make neurological connections which keeps it healthy as you age, but you never know, you might discover you're really good at something.  My workmate told me her Aunt who is in her 70's just took up drawing and painting.  And her work is really good!  She has started having annual exhibitions and gives the proceeds to her brothers church to give to the needy in their community in the Philippines.  How cool is that?  And she would never have been able to do any of that had she not just decided to try something new.

I don't think it matters too much what your goals are, so long as you have them.  At the moment I set short, medium and long terms creative goals.  Currently these are:

Lefthanded Wax-eye from current drawing series      

 

• Take one bird photo a day (nearly up to two years now!)
• Try to do 2 - 4 drawings (of birds) a week
• Complete one short story a month
• Have one exhibition of visual work each year

It's not really a lot.  But with work and Mumming and family and attempting to manage actually seeing my friends sometimes, it's plenty.  I think the other thing about goal setting is making your goals achievable.  Not comparing your goals, or your ability or what you are doing with what other people are doing.  We are all different.  The time and energy we have available to dedicate to whatever is important to us is different.

But the key factor in achieving goals is just doing it.  Whatever it is.  Working past our fear that we are not good enough, and just getting stuck in and doing it regardless, gets it done.  Because the more you do it, the better you will get at it.  What has been really helpful with me in terms of feeling ok about writing is reading well known authors early work.  A lot of Stephen King's early stuff borrows from other influential horror writers.  It's not perfect, but it is published, and it is good.  I'm currently reading a collection of short stories by Tennessee Williams and seeing how so many of his stories were not published for more than five years.

And that if you hit a hump, like I have, you just keep on working.  The first story I submitted for publishing miraculously was published.  The only problem with that was my fear of failure got bigger.  What if I never write anything as good as that again?  What if it's the only thing I ever get published?  This probably isn't how many people think.  I think loads of people would have this happen and just think that meant they were bad ass and start writing themselves to death anticipating bigger victories.  I guess maybe this is one of the big differences between 'normies' and those of us with anxiety.  I had to work through it.

And yesterday, finally (first time since April) I sent some of my subsequent work off to a publisher.  It was scary.  It may be rejected.  But if I do not try, I will never know.  And the truth is, I really do like my stories.  And I feel there are so many more of them there.  And I never ever would have known this at all, had I not stopped thinking and procrastinating and being critical of myself, and just started doing.

With my first cheque from that first published story I decided to buy something special to commemorate the event.  I finally did that today.  What I bought was what I will call my muse bracelet, a bracelet featuring the covers of nine of the most influential books on my writing.  Hopefully, I will wear it while I'm writing to remind me what's important, what I'm aspiring to.

So excited for this to come in the post!

And then I will just sit down and do.