Watching Grass Grow…Sorta

I love my products, but even being totally enamored with every journal I will sell, I still find loading an online shopping cart about the most tedious thing I have ever done.  It’s right up there with watching grass grow.  Can you say boooorrriiinng?  /YAWN.

 

I do feel a sense of accomplishment that I’ve gotten the essentials entered.  I even figured out how to use associations and options.  I’m proud of that, lol.  But, oh my, that was four hours of mind-numbing click and click and click, type, click and click again.

 

Didn’t help to find out the photos I took were too big to upload.  About the time I was ready to try again, hubby needed bandwidth, so I sat for 5 minutes, timed out, logged back in, then crashed the page because I tried to save the same time the SSL was being put on the site.  It’s funny now.  It wasn’t funny when I thought I’d have to quit four items from being done!

 

Done is a relative term, anyway.  I will rapidly expand my inventory as the money comes in from sales to do so.  The “click, click, and click again” process and I will be very old friends before long.  The kind of friend you hope you don’t see while out running errands because they drone on for an hour about the most tedious thing they’ve done in the last 30 days.

 

Ah, well.  The preview looks good, I learned a lot, and my SSL is installed, making me secure and safe to shop with.

 

It’s a good thing I’ve finally found a sure-fire cure for insomnia as well.  I’m off to bed.  Tomorrow, I’ll step it up a notch and spend time watching the front lawn.

Papermaking and Writing…Not a Bad Metaphor

I was thinking yesterday that papermaking is a pretty good metaphor for writing.

 

First you gather stuff.  Paper requires a collection of shredded paper (old bills, junk mail, what have you).  Writing requires a collection of experiences, observances, research and what have you.

 

Then you get it wet and blend.  This is self explanatory for papermaking.  Blenders work great.  Water and shredded old stuff piled into a blender.  Mix until it forms slurry of the right consistency.  For writing, it is the subliminal process of percolating, gestating, or composting…pick the term you like best; a catalyst to take all the stuff, break it down, and mix it up well.

 

When the slurry is of the right consistency, you can add color via dye or even construction paper.  In writing, this could be an assignment slant or a spark of inspiration.

 

The slurry is poured or dipped onto a screen within a frame the same way a writer fills a page with words…evenly and consistently.

 

The water drains out through the screen.  At this stage, you can add pressed flora, dust with sparkles (or even spices!) or create texture.  For the writer, this process is akin to completing the first draft.

 

When dry enough, the paper sheet is set to dry…and the writing is set aside.  When the process is completed, the paper is trimmed, squared off, and made ready for use in a project or for writing.  The trimming and making ready is the final revision of the written work.

 

In both cases, you come out with something new and useful that you did not have before.  Mistakes are made.  You learn from them and throw the sheet or finished piece back in the bag or compost heap to be used again.  Sometimes the paper comes out with unexpected beauty.  Writing can often surprise the writer with clarity and rich prose.

 

Making paper requires tools and methodical work.  So does writing.  You get better sheets with practice.  And so your writing improves with practice. Substitute grammar for a shredder and thought for the blender.  See what I mean?

 

As a paper maker and a writer, the comparison makes sense to me.  When one area is flagging, I can use what I know from the other to breathe life into it again.  Both crafts are best approached with openness to the process.  Perhaps that’s why I enjoy both.  The one major difference that makes me a full-time writer but a casual paper maker is that writing can be done anywhere and any time with pen and paper.  Papermaking requres equipment and prep work that doesn’t transport near as well!

 

All things considered, not a bad metaphor at all.

Dang it! My pen ran dry!

I am a little old school.  Though I can and often do compose directly on the computer, I prefer longhand for composition, writing exercises, and early morning writing.  One reason is that I have arthritis.  My days of typing 110 wpm are long gone.  Another reason is that there’s something about putting pen to paper that helps things flow better…slows down my thoughts and helps me capture a more introspective flavor in my writing.  But that is fodder for another blog post.

 

Longhand writers have strong preferences of course.  Course or grainy paper fatigues the hand.  Some like lined paper, some don’t.  Some of us get frustrated with frequent page turning, so use large notebooks.  Others are fine with the smaller ones. 

 

Our choice of pens is also a matter of preference.  While I love writing with a Pilot Precise V7 above all things, I must now use a fat pen with a good grip on it.  Some people like ballpoint, some gel, and some even use fountain pens.

 

But one thing we all hate is when that pen runs dry.  It seems to always happen in the middle of a thought, when we’re in hurry, or when we’re in a remote part of the house and must trek through several rooms to grab another.

 

Because I use fat barrel pens with thick grips (almost always solid, not clear), I don’t have a clue when my pen is about to give up the ghost.  I keep spare pens on my desk, in the car, and next to the bed, but what are you going to do if your pen runs dry while soaking in the bathtub or, ahem, somewhere else in the same room?

 

I’ve experienced episodes in which every pen in reach of my recliner is also dry…a testament to my distractedness, I say… a testament to my housekeeping habits, says my mother.  For at least 3 minutes, my thought process must try to remain on hold while I move the cat, scrunch my five foot height low enough in the chair to close the footrest, get up, find a pen on my desk (remember to check it) and return to my chair.  Sometimes I can pick up where I left off.  More often, the thought process didn’t want to wait on hold and hung up on me.

 

I think I need to invent a pen that uses an IV bag type set up.  That’s a lot of ink!  Plus, you can see when the bag is almost empty and get another one prepped and ready.  Certainly I’d never have a pen run dry on me again provided I remembered to CHECK the bag periodically and always have a fresh one handy. 

 

In the grand scheme of how things go, it would cut down on the number of times I dealt with a dry pen, but wouldn’t stop it completely.  A writer’s mind is a writer’s mind.  Eager to get started, I’d think an inch in the bag is more than enough, only to run out without a spare!  Dang it!  My pen ran dry…again.

Six-Point Type: A Writing Exercise In WordPad

We live in a small house.  Our den/computer room is arranged such that my screen is visible to anyone in the room.  While the exercise is not new for me, I found a new use for my six-point type writing exercise.

 

Privacy!

 

Open up WordPad.  Select a script font and set the type for 6 pt.  Start your cursor on the page and go wild!  You can’t read it and WordPad has no editing marks, so you are unable to edit what you type.  And the best part is…no one else in the room can read it either!

 

It isn’t that I mind my husband reading what I’m writing.  In fact, I enjoy his input.  However, I find it distracting when he turns and begins reading over my shoulder.  Almost inevitably, it causes my hands to leap from the keyboard and my thought process to stall.

 

With this writing exercise, especially with my headphones on and playlist running, he can look all he wants.  It distracts me much less.  I’m not sure why this is since he always gives me an odd look and shakes his head, but it works.

 

It also works to keep my fingers typing, just as I keep my hand moving in my early morning longhand sessions.  No editing marks mean there’s nothing to draw my attention to the screen.  I can even close my eyes and type away.

 

I save these exercises in a special folder.  Every so often, I’ll open one up, enlarge the type and clear up the font into something more legible.  I always find something good somewhere in the mess…some little gem that made the session worth it.

 

Try it sometime.  Let me know what you think!

 

Keeping a Calendar…Encouraging Progress

Two weeks ago, I found a magnetic calendar stuffed in between some books on the bookcase.  It’s a pretty pink paper with roses on it…a leftover gift from my bridal shower more than 18 months ago.  Seven days are in columns across the page.  It’s undated.

 

I’m not sure why I started writing down what I did for the business, but after three days, I was hooked.  We’re in the stage where there’s a lot going on behind the scenes, but little visible progress.  I’m working hard, but wondering what the heck I’m accomplishing.

 

Now I know.

 

I have two weeks’ worth of progress…a record of the time I’ve spent making this business a reality.

 

One thing I see much more clearly now is the fill and empty pattern of my creativity.  It looks as if I accomplished little on Tuesday.  The calendar says I did research for about three hours and revised web content.  And yet, Wednesday evening, I wrote three pieces, added to and reformatted the web content, and was off to other projects…all in about 90 minutes.  The pieces I wrote required little editing.  The content is done.

 

I also didn’t realize how many small decisions I make every day until I started writing them down.  I feel as if I’m working.  Now I have a record to prove that I was, indeed.

 

Of course, some days are more productive than others.  Much of my physical energy still goes into my day job, but even so, things are stewing and percolating in the back of my mind.  If I can stay awake for 5 hours after coming home, I can get it all out onto paper in a form I can go back and revise later.  Those nights I nod off at the keyboard frustrate me.  I understand, however, that I have been working long hours and it will happen on occasion.  I quit beating myself up for it when I realized it rarely happens more than once a week.  Consider it my “down” time. J

 

It’s the best little business exercise I’ve started to date.  I can look back at the week and see progress.  Visible on the web site or not, it’s there.  Things are getting done.  All is good.

Duality…the Writer’s Mind

Every writer becomes accustomed to “having two minds.”  Life, for a writer, is like this…

 

 

Get up.  Time to write.

 

                                    Mfphhhh

 

C’mon you made a commitment

 

            I’m sleeping leemeelone

 

You committed.  You want to write.  You know you do.

 

            Later.  I want to write later.

 

You need to write now.

 

            (groans and rolls over)

 

Come on.  Thirty minutes and you can do something fun.

 

            You always say that and I always end up writing longer.  Besides, today is chore day.

 

Once you start, writing IS fun.  So you should (ahem) START.  You don’t have to do any chores until the writing is done.

 

            I can sleep another 30 minutes and avoid chores.

 

(Exasperated Noise)

 

            Sigh.  Okay.  Lemme stretch

 

Silence

 

I think you’re done stretching

           

            No I’m not.

 

You haven’t moved in five minutes.

 

            I haven’t?  Okay I guess I’m done.

 

So get up.  Time to write.

 

            But I’m sooo tired and my body hurts sooo bad.

 

I know.  I understand.  But you made a promise to write no matter how we felt.

 

            You work today instead.  I’m not in the mood.

 

Uh-uh.  I edit and advise.  You create.  You’re it.

 

            I don’t wanna be it today.

 

Too bad.  Get up.

 

            Okay, okay.  I’m sitting.  Good enough?

 

Yes.  Pen and paper please.

 

            I thought we were transitioning to the keyboard?

 

Not today. Look at our hands.  Besides, you’d use them as another excuse.

 

            Don’t have to look at them.  Told you they hurt!

 

Yup.  So paper and that big fat pen.  Get going.

 

            But…they hurt.

 

You promised!

 

            Okay okay.  Wait…this isn’t my daily writing notebook.

 

It will do.

 

            But it won’t count on my page quota!

 

I’ll fix it later.  Start writing.

 

 

Silence

 

Why aren’t you writing?

 

            I’m thirsty.  Want some water.

 

In a minute.

 

            The cat is on my lap.

 

Move her.

 

            Holding the pen hurts.

 

I know.  Write anyway.  It doesn’t have to be legible.

 

Silence

 

Sigh.  What now.

 

            I need to use the bathroom

 

You can hold it.

 

            No.  No, I don’t think I can.

 

Write a line first.  Make some kind of mark on that paper!

 

            I need to go.  Now.

 

Well then you better write fast.

 

            I gotta go I gotta go I gotta go I gotta go NOW I gotta go

 

Thought you said we had to go?

 

            We do.  I do.

 

Well, you wrote a line.  Take the notebook with you.

 

            Okay.

 

(an hour later)

 

You done yet?  I’m hungry.

 

            In a minute.

 

The laundry is waiting.

 

            Hold on.

 

You’ve written eight pages already.  Can’t wait to look at it.

 

            Shhh. I’m writing.

 

But…the chores.

 

            They’ll keep.

 

Wow.  We really reversed rolls, didn’t we?

 

            Yes, I guess we did.  Thanks for getting me started this morning.

 

That is a HARD task.

           

            I know.  And I appreciate it.  Got some good stuff today.

 

Good!  Now feed me!  Take the notebook with you.

 

            LoL.  Okay.

 

 

Victory!

The first draft of my first E-Book is done!  Now I know where some of the negative feelings were coming from.  As I told my mom in an IM conversation earlier this evening “I think part of it is fear, the other part is fear, and the rest of it is probably fear.”

 

It’s not bad, this E-Book.  Though I need to put it away and gain my distance before cutting and editing, I did print it out and flip through it.  I’m proud of it.  Is it okay to say that?  I’ll say it anyway.  I spent eight days writing this thing that now has physical form in my hands, and I am proud of my work.

 

I’ve always finished writing I did for work.  My fiction has never had great endings or were finished because I hit the wall and didn’t know how to work past it.  Of course, the final book I reviewed was “Writing from Both Sides of the Brain,” and her chapter on the wall hit just where I needed it to, lol.

 

I am sleeping tonight on a positive note.  I CAN write on demand.  I can keep it consistent.  I can write on assignment as well.  I’m not “just” an essayist (and there’s nothing wrong with being one).  I had to remind myself of all those things and did so when the printer burped out the last page of my E-Book tonight.

 

Are We There Yet?

My primary thought today is of how worn out I am.  Between day job and new business, I’ve put in close to 120 hours a week for the last six weeks.  I wish I were joking or exaggerating, but I’m not.  The final push is coming up, along with some of the more rewarding tasks prior to opening the business.  29 days to go…and my task tracker is a whopping 42 items long.

 

I make a lot of lists, but find them less and less helpful.  Things that can wait must wait.  Things that I know I will put off (procrastination) or that will take a while must be started today.  Everything else falls into the spectrum of a drop dead date.  I might not start the project until a day or two before the deadline, but it will get done.

 

This wonderful thing happens almost every day, though.  I am worn to pieces during the afternoon (I go in at 5:30 a.m. and get off at 4 p.m.) but somewhere around 5 p.m., especially if I have items in my in-box from vendors or a note of encouragement, I catch a second wind.  I want this business to be, and I enjoy what I do.  That provides me with a little spike of energy that will sometimes carry me until 11 p.m. or midnight. As tired as I am at this moment, 10 minutes before I head for home, I know that second wind is coming like a cool breeze on a southern summer afternoon.  It is this “extra measure of Grace” that sustains me and makes pursuing my dreams possible. 

 

I have it in my mind that things will settle down and be more peaceful after opening and the initial flurry.  I expect this is true, but, depending on how fast we make it onto the Google lists, it might not last.  I am looking forward to the differences involved in running a business as opposed to starting one.  Accounting, legalities, licenses, and structure will be completed.  Expanding inventory, providing the best customer service I can provide, and launching the new line are tasks I look forward to.  No more agonizing over domains, start up money, initial web design, logos and account set ups.  All of that, for the most part, will be behind me.  Once routines are established and we are operating somewhat smoothly, I’ll have more time to sleep, write, and talk to my family.  While I have my hopes, I don’t expect us to hit a level of sales that is not sustainable on my current schedule for a little while yet.  Breathing room.

 

There’s some fun stuff coming up in the next three weeks.  Placing and receiving my first orders for inventory will be fun.  Photographing all the items to be uploaded into the shopping cart will also be an enjoyable task.  Watching all the elements of the web site click into place will be a relief; test driving it will be fun as well.  I am looking forward to it, though I don’t have the energy to get too excited at the moment.

 

 

Building a Business

Starting a business is a lot like building a house.  You believe, at the outset, that it’s one big project or several big projects in succession.  In reality, it’s a lot of little steps, little tasks, and little projects punctuated by a few larger events. 

 

From the blue print (or business plan) to the final touches, the total number of small steps would boggle your mind.  Don’t think about it, lest you be discouraged.

 

The larger events such as watching the stud walls go up, getting the roof sheathed and shingled, installing drywall…those are the days you see and feel progress.  In business terns (mine, at least), these events are similar to setting up your accounting software, loading text into the web pages, receiving your first inventory orders.  Big events that show progress, but of themselves do not a house or business make.

 

I liken the tedious, mind-numbing work of setting up your online shopping cart inventory to that of installing all the electrical wiring.  Drill through each stud–load your descriptions.  String electrical wire around the walls…all of them…sometimes more than once–load your images and select your categories.  If you are working with two other people on nights and weekends to build that house, the wiring alone can take a week, especially if you burn out your dad’s favorite DeWalt cordless drill in the process.  Building a business with one part time advisor (again, evenings and weekends), the process takes longer.

 

Then you start on plumbing.  From water heater to three sinks, two commodes, a dishwasher and four exterior spigots, it’s full of little steps punctuated by angles, channeling through studs and preparing for the post inspection tie-in…All of this, punctuated by choice swear words on occasion, takes time and skill.  Similar is the process of writing your varied and necessary policies, links and pages.  But the first time you turn on the water on is priceless.  So is the first time you turn on the power and see light, or the day you put in cabinets and countertop to reveal a real kitchen.

 

The first time I toured the partially completed website for my upcoming business, I felt as I did the day my dad told me the house we built for me and my children was done.  All those little projects strung together produced a home for the three of us that we loved deeply.  All these little projects strung together produced an internet home I could call mine (bare bones inventory and all).

Am I a “real” writer?

I had an interesting conversation a few weeks ago.  An acquaintance of mine was chatting animately about her new friend, Josh.  When she got through describing his looks, manners, and their first date, she told me what he did.

Deb: “Barb, he’s a writer!”

Me: “That’s nice.  Maybe we can talk sometime.”

Deb: (odd look) “No, he’s a REAL writer.  He has published a book and several articles.”

Me:  “Ahh, I see.  He’s a paid writer.”

She shook her head and wandered off. 

The conversation has stuck with me. not because someone who knows my passion for writing and the writing process denies me the title of “writer,” but because the definition of “writer” is far different for her than for me.

Dictionary.com defines the word writer thus:

1.	a person engaged in writing books, articles, stories, etc., esp. as an occupation or profession; an author or journalist.

2.	a clerk, scribe, or the like.

3.	a person who commits his or her thoughts, ideas, etc., to writing: an expert letter writer.

4.	(in a piece of writing) the author (used as a circumlocution for “I,” “me,” “my,” etc.): The writer wishes to state….

5.	a person who writes or is able to write: a writer in script.

 

Okay, so I certainly fit several of those categories.  But what makes a writer a “real” writer?

Is it getting paid for my work? Is it getting published? (They don’t always come together).  Is it the fact that I wake up and fall asleep with a pen in my hand?  What about using my writing skills/talent in any form to help someone else or perform a job function?  Perhaps it’s the reality that I must write, must feel the pen scratching across paper on a daily basis, or I look and act like I’m in withdrawl.  Am I not a “real” writer because I still hold a day job or reject the long odds and small returns of the traditional publishing industry?

My mother tells me I was very young when I began my writing career.  Just old enough and dextrous enough to hold a crayon.  When I was 15, a well meaning family member told me one needed life experience to write and, at 15, I had none.  Unfortunately, I took that to heart and exchanged my youthful storytelling for journaling.  I decided when I had life experience, I would beome a “real” writer. 

I can look in the boxes in my closet and see that, during all those years of not being a “real” writer, I was certainly a prolific one!  I might have thought I let go of writing, but it never let go of me. 

I am a writer.  I have been published in small circles with tiny circulation, but that isn’t what makes me a writer.  Writing isn’t what I do.  It’s who I am.  It’s how I communicate my view of the world.  It’s how I organize the vast chaos of a creative mind.  It provides emotional outlet.  It helps me define my thoughts and beliefs.  It is a soothing tactile way to relax.  As long as my words are out there in the world, I am content, though I’d never turn down payment.   In the words of Isaac Asimov:  “I write for the same reason I breathe.  If I didn’t, I would die.”

My friend Deb doesn’t comprehend this truth, nor is she likely to change her mind.  If she can’t see my byline in a national magazine or on the Borders bookshelf, I’m not a writer.  It has taken me 26 years to let go of the notion that I’m not a “real writer” and accept that I am.  Always have been.  Always will be.  Embrace it and shout for joy?  Nah, not my style.  But believe me, I write about it.