Time Management

I noticed when I visited the blog this evening that I had missed my post date. Hence, I realized another obstacle I face as a writer. My lack of time management skills.

I have enough hours in the day. I get 24, just like the rest of you, but there are days when I have to wonder what happened to the 18 or so hours that have passed since I woke up. What did I do all day? Why didn't any of those hours include writing?
Sure, I work 12 hrs shifts at the hospital and those night shifts play havoc with my engery level and productivity, but that's only two nights a week. Five days a week I should be writing at least 6 hrs a day. I'm not. I've tried making schedules, checking off boxes of most important to least important items that have to be done, but the morning passes and all I've accomplished is to sip two cups of coffee and watch the news. Talk about depressing.

So, I'm at my wits end. I really have no idea how to manage my time and my writing is suffering because of it. Any suggestions? Any sure fire helpful hints? If you can help, I'll name a character after you in my next book.

Writing Obstacles

The phrase “writer’s block” is misconstrued by many. The belief that it connotates one who has nothing to write about is far from the truth. “Writer’s Block” can be defined as someone who has SO much to write about, that the author cannot filter the numerous topics and choose one.
This is one problem with writing: I have a ton of plots swirling in my head and choosing just one can pose conflict.
So, what to do?
Jotting down the ideas is one step and then selecting the one that piques the interest the most is the next.
After the top choice is determined, the dilemma that I face is actually sitting down and writing. I constantly think about my story, the characters and the outcome. My mind dreams up the beginning, the middle and the end, but placing the words on paper is almost inhibiting.
My life is chaotic. It is filled with grading, grading, grading, not to mention carting my children to ballet, boxing, guitar lessons and squeezing in something that is necessary in my life now: exercising. It is not an option any longer. My health must be improved and maintained in order to participate in the milestones of my daughters.
Writing problem? Not sure if that’s a precise phrase any longer. Writing obstacles seems to be synonymous.
When the window of opportunity arises, I seize it and write. I may not finish a book, chapter or page for that matter, but the happiness I feel at accomplishing a bit of writing is bittersweet.
Eventually, my life will settle down a bit and composing my stories and completing it will happen one day. I don’t have a set time for my pen to paper, and maybe I should pencil it in, but for now, it’s one baby step a day.

Problems? What problems?

When I started writing, the whole world of writing was amazing to me. Every aspect was sparkly or scary. Scary because I couldn't understand what was happening in my head. How could a story unfold from it without conscious thought on my part?

With research, understanding, time, and two novels out, now I'm asking myself, what happened? Why doesn't a story unfold without conscious thought on my part? More than that, why is it the same struggle for others? Authors with little work finished and authors whose body of work is huge?

I have absolutely NO IDEA!!

That is what is driving me crazy.

I thought it was little time to write. I cleared some time.

I thought it was lack of discipline. I sat in the chair and stared and cursed at the cursor.

I thought maybe it was lack of inspiration. I inspired myself with, new paint, a new computer, new music, new clothes, new shoes, a new cat, a box of donuts, a pocket of chocolate, a pot of custom blend coffee, a framed note from an agent, nothing worked for over three minutes. All work in that time had to be redone.

I thought it was a lack of direction. I turned my desk around. (Ok, I didn't really, but I was getting desperate.)

I thought maybe I was suddenly unable to write so I took a sentence course on how to make interesting sentences. Now I'm totally confused as to how to string all of those interesting sentences together into one meaningful story. Meaningful? Never mind. How about interesting?

Then I thought maybe it was my regular life interfering with my fake one. So I took a look at what was happening this last week.

I had to approve, disapprove, rewrite, then approve the main ad for our business. It will run 13 weeks and cost roughly nine thousand dollars. Let's not get it too wrong, OK? Then don't forget the left-over containers for after the caterers after two customer dinners in two towns. Sister and mom are here to work over the family pictures and documents for three generations and include the family archive book and stories and give lessons making homemade biscuits. Hired girl gets here and begins to empty the kitchen cabinets so that they can be relined with birch veneer. Mom decides to begin working on the drip system that will allow the fish pond water, the patio containers, and two trees to actually get watered regularly and she's weed-eating random places around the yard (God help us.). Husband decides to cook but decides to make triple batches so he can help a friend who has chicken pox for the third time. How many apples does he need to buy for apple crisp and would I come and look at it to see if it is done? The darned cat can't get to the cat food because the barrier to make the door smaller so that the bobcat that has been getting in the green house and slashing the cat food sacks all open can't get in there. But now the human door won't latch. Better look into that. When will the pickup get to be in the garage again? Can we do something about the boxes of stuff mom has brought from Tucson for a garage sale in Walsh in October? The guy refinishing the dining room table sanded right down through the surface of the veneer, can we do something about that? The new veneer came in lets get it installed so meet me in Manter at nine in the morning and we'll give it a try. The man to replace the hailed out roof on the rent house has never shown up. The fellow that is painting the other one has charged all the materials to the accounts but hasn't done anything but remove the shutters on the other rent house. Yes, let's get new ones, but paint them black to match the ones we don't need to change. Rain? Nope, that's dirt in the wind. Yes, bug man, please spray the crickets in the seed building office. Did anyone water the new trees this week? Commerce bank called, they're missing a payment. Uncle Milon died. He fell down stairs and broke his ribs. At the hospital, he couldn't keep his lungs clear and died of pneumonia. Mom's friend's husband has had a heart attack and may not make it two more weeks. Is there anyway to get them help? Yes, Washington state has hospice care that is not only in the home, but also helps council those who have never gone down this path before. Cell signal is spotty. Air fares from Denver are only three hundred five dollars round trip and it would only take twenty four hours to get her there. Don't come yet? Ok. Town day, gotta buy some groceries and get finish for the inside of the cabinets since what we have will turn yellow. Yuk. Table finish took a dark turn, but will come out ok and will be delivered back on Saturday. There are four more blouses ready to pick up. The left rear tire on the car is flat. Trash is piling up in the garage and will be dealt with tomorrow morning when we go get the flat fixed. Called to find out how to stake the three new trees. What is the anniversary date of our company insurance so the secretary can schedule knee surgery? I'll find out. We took an inventory of our baseball farmer hats and we don't have any! Order some immediately and try to get them here as soon as possible. Yes, the pocket notebooks came in. I'll bring them to the seed meetings myself. Who parked the car in the garage at such an angle I can't get the front passenger door open? Yeah, buttons selected and put on two new blouses. Why don't I have any clean underwear? Why is the computer coughing up hairballs and giving me repeat messages that said I don't have enough virtual memory? Where are the sponge sticks I bought to put bleach on the mold I'm allergic to on the corner of the shower door before I cough up both lungs? Yes, mom, I found a place you can dump your dark water tanks in your motor home on Friday when you go to town. My new sandals rubbed sores on the top of my feet. We spent two hours waiting to get through the line at the hospital for the health fair. Then we spent two hours looking at dismal crops of ours drougthing out on the way home. The student I tutored in math is doing an excellent job and bounded ahead this Monday. He's also doing pretty good at getting my bank statements balanced. He has three out of five accounts up to date.

No, just a regular week.

I can't figure it out.

Somehow I will get a little forward in the story. Maybe I should plot a little instead of relying on the seat of my pants?

(Title)

No, the title of this blog post is not a mistake.  Titles are one of many things I struggle with in my writing.  How do I solve it?  Uh...  Obviously it isn't solved today and is one of the reasons my post is late.  (Tardiness being another problem I haven't come to terms with, not only in writing but in life.  Let's save that for another time.)

It's the title of a piece of fiction or non-fiction that invites and entices a person to read what's been written.  A perfect example is Reese's title on Thursday.  Or Pat's.  Or Joan's.  Each of those had an element that pique a reader's interest. 

While my title above has no enticement, except to wonder why I didn't title my post, it pretty much conveys my struggle.  I hate trying to think of titles.

Of my twelve published books, only two have kept my original titles.  His Queen of Hearts (Sil. Romance 4/2006 and Family by Design (Harlequin American Romance 1/2008) miraculously made it through the editorial process.  Which is not to say the original titles of the others were bad.  Personally, I think Darlin' in Disguise has a better ring to it than The Truth About Plain Jane, but someone with more experience didn't agree.  And, in truth, the official title isn't far off from one of probably fifteen or so others that I later suggested.

Fifteen?  Yeah, fifteen.  Because authors are given the chance to suggest more titles. 

With the last six books--part of a series--I made it a habit not to give them a title.  Not a real title, anyway.  The original titles  included the name of the hero or heroine and a key word that told me something about the story.  Here's the list of my working titles and the books' published titles:

Tanner's Prize - The Rodeo Rider 

Taming Kate - Bachelor Cowboy 

Morgan's Pride - The Lawman's Little Surprise 

Nikki's Secret - The Reluctant Wrangler 

Tucker's Homecoming - The Maverick's Reward

Garrett's Woman - Bachelor Dad

130 titles total were sent.  5 of the suggested were chosen.  But I have to be honest.  I didn't think of all 130.  I'm part of a great group of authors with a talent for titles, so thanks to the Ditzy Chix, my books haven't gone untitled...like this post.

And now you know the whole story, at least about this particular struggle. One down and an infinite number to go.  ☺

Writing Problem du jour by J Vincent

My writing problem du jour or rather de l'année is simply writing. The actual physical task of pen to paper, fingers to keyboard. I struggle with how to get myself back on track to daily meaningful—let’s even skip meaningful— to writing. To be a writer one must write. Now running through my mind is the caution that one must not have word repetition. Are five forms of “write” too much repetition? Ahh, distraction.

Distracted writers do not write. Distracted writers cook, clean, sew, quilt, babysit, do laundry, organize anything and everything etc. etc. We make lists on things to do and even on how to get back to writing. There are many legitimate distractions. Emergencies happen, circumstances change in a flash and schedules only seem made to be disrupted. For me it is truly an ongoing struggle to find time to write. No, I need to be honest since the first step in recovery is to admit the truth. I do have time to write. The problem is I do not when I choose to do something else. It was such a struggle that I did have the internal debate about giving up writing. But I blog here because it makes me write. I post a monthly “Coze” on my website because it ensures more writing. I’m never truly happy not writing so it isn’t time to give it up.

Then how can I make sure I do it? Better stated, how DO I make sure I do it? What I should do is set an image of a leprechaun—a leprechaun with a really big gavel in hand, on the top shelf above my computer. She should bear a striking resemblance to a very successful author who happens to be our intrepid leader. Every time I am tempted to drift away from my writing task she whacks the shelf and shouts “Set and KEEP Goals!” Seriously, this is an excellent if not THE point.

Setting goals is key to keeping on track and gaining writing success. Every time I’ve been prodded into doing so I have accomplished something. So I’ve been setting very small goals and reaching them for the most part. Large goals overwhelm. I am easily drawn into my “impossible” mode with large goals these days. So my goals are writing for an hour; planning a specific scene; writing that scene; editing; and then continuing to the next part of the book. It’s like stacking toy blocks into a building, except I get pages filled with sentences and paragraphs. Which lead to more pages. Which leads to goals met. Achieving goals breeds and feeds success. Following my goals, which are progressive, leads me to a completed book. This blog post proves goals work—due to setting a goal it was written a full two weeks before I had to have it up—not the day before like sometimes happens.

No plan is fail safe. I love, no I need, back up plans. Please share how you get edge or better yet, blast your way through the temptation to not write.

LIFE’S TOO SHORT TO WEAR UGLY UNDERWEAR by Reese Mobley

Wait. Wait. Waaaaaait. Hold those itchy trigger fingers and don’t click away from this site. This is not one of the web pages your momma warned you about. This is WARA’s writing blog and our topic this month has to do with writing problems. Still confused about the title? Double check the color of your undies, (hot pink with white and yellow daisies) grab something cold to drink (iced tea) and let me explain.

My biggest struggle when it comes to writing is myself. There. I said it. I feel like a huge weight has been shifted from my shoulders to this page. Please understand that I’m not apologizing. I’m just admitting it to you, the faithful readers, writers and otherwise curious title pursuers.

My motto is and always will be that if you get a chance to do something or see something really cool and extraordinary then you have an obligation to yourself to do it. There are some experiences that only come around once and I don’t want to miss anything. We only get one shot at this life and I want to make the most of it. I go and I do until my calendar is full and my checkbook is empty.

As a writer, I’m curious by nature and I’m not claiming to live like Indiana Jones. Not everything I do is movie-worthy but it is vital to who I am. I recently lost a very good friend to a tragic accident. She was only 33. Her death made me realize how very short and precious our time is. We should all live like today could be our last day.

How do I strike a balance? Make time for everything I want to do with everything I have to do? I’m not sure. I celebrate a milestone birthday in a few months—gasp—and I wanted to have this current WIP finished by then. I have a long way to go but I’m going to try. It’s important. I will find a compromise between where I am now and where I want to be.

So, tell me. If life is so short why would you want to waste a single day wearing ugly underwear? Pull out the good ones. The colorful ones that make you secretly happy when you wear them. The ones that make you feel like you can conquer the publishing world. I know that’s asking a lot from a pair of undergarments, but hey, you gotta start somewhere. You owe it to your manuscript but most importantly, you owe it to yourself.

Hugs,

Reese

procrastination

Hello, Pat Davids here. This month on our WARA blog we are going to be talking about writing problems we have and how to solve them.
Oh, if only there was a way to solve my writing problem.

My problem is procrastination. Not a small amount of procrastination. I am talking about procrastination the size of Mount Everest. An enormous, five-mile high, thin-altitude, ice-covered hunk of a mountain’s worth of procrastination that I may never be able to climb over.

What!! You all exclaim. Pat, you've written 15 books! How can you claim you suffer from procrastination? I don't just claim it, I can prove it. Right now, it is ten fifty-five p.m. on August 1st and my blog is due to be posted after midnight. See, I procrastinate. When did I look up what I was to blog about? A single minute prior to starting this post. When I think of how much preparation time Penny puts into her posts I'm almost ashamed to admit mine are off-the-cuff.

Earlier today I was expecting a call from my agent. Because I was unable to meet her at the RWA conference, we didn't have a chance to discuss my writing plan for the year, what projects I wanted to work on, who I might want to target with new work or where I wanted to take my career. I was DREADING her call. Why? Because I had next to nothing planned and no idea what direction I wanted to take my career.

In true queen-like style, I have been telling people my new goal is to become famous. To make the New York Times bestseller list. How am I going to achieve such a lofty goal? I don’t have a clue, but it sounds good.

My actual goal is to meet the looming deadlines of the books I have under contract. How much have I written? Fifteen pages. First book is due Oct 1st. In a bout of gloomy soul-searching just ten minuets before her call (notice once again my glaring procrastination) I discovered a disturbing underlying cause of my affliction. I'm not afraid of failure. I'm not afraid of success. I'm not afraid of bad reviews. I'm not even afraid of being thought unreliable by my publishers. I mean, what the heck, I'm still a good nurse. That job is not going away.

No, I realized that I'm afraid I don't have anything meaningful to say.

That's it. That's the fear that holds me back.

People can tell me my work is meaningful, my work is funny, or my work is endearing, or even that it sucks. If I don't believe it in my heart, then what someone else says doesn't matter.

Perhaps the recent sad events in my life have skewed my perspective. I don't know. I do know I have always loved to tell stories and I always will.

In the end, I have to believe I will conquer this fear now that I recognize it. Why? Because I hate roadblocks. I hate letting something else keep me from getting where I want to go. If I want to hit the New York Times bestseller list I really have to write more books. I really have to write better books, books with something meaningful in them.

And do you know what I just realized? What is more meaningful than LOVE? Wow! Why didn't I think of that before?

So, do you suffer from procrastination? How do you fight it? I'd love to hear.