On Order & Getting It Done

I’ve been working on this particular book project for months and, at last check, the word count was still measly. I made an outline of the book first; that’s what they tell you to do. And though I’ve never been much for following directions, in publishing I seem to take advice from the professionals at face value. That is, I follow blindly and I should know better than that.

Every time I open the file to work on it I spend more time staring at the outline than writing. I’ve taken to describing the whole project as being akin to giving birth to a twenty pound baby; it’s just not coming out. Until last night.

Yesterday had been a particularly rough day. Saturday night a stray dog showed up. I drove her around for nearly two hours, knocking on doors. No one recognized her. I checked craigslist for lost ads religiously, called any neighbors I missed when driving around and posted her picture on facebook, but got no hits. She was a beautiful, young lab mix and a sweet heart of an animal. She grew on me, but the last thing we need is a dog so Monday morning I called animal control to come get her.

The man on the phone was nice and very helpful, but confided that they were and have been very full. He expected a couple of dogs to go before noon and would come pick her up as soon as he had an empty pen. She was sweet, but also hyper, untrained, not housebroken and not safe with small animals. She’s also pitch black and, statistically, black dogs have slimmer chances at adoption to begin with. I knew what sending her in could and probably would mean for her. But I had no choice and her big puppy dog eyes laid behind me as I tried to work all day, giving me a guilty conscience. I got absolutely nothing of note done. I couldn’t even concentrate on Pinterest. You know it’s bad when you can’t even waste time properly.

Finally, in the early afternoon with my anxiety at the highest it’s been since I started seeing my shrink, I gave up. I went to the family room, curled up on the sofa with my youngest, and dozed off to Clifford the Big Red Dog on PBS. It was the best nap I’ve ever had, but when I woke up the productivity didn’t really catch up. As some of you know I’ve been struggling with work life balance lately so I concentrated on life and not thinking about the innocence that poor dog was sure to lose when she stepped foot into the pound for the first time. And she was so very innocent. I cleaned and cooked and watched more cartoons. And then I cuddled back up on the sofa with the man after dinner where we watched the usual Monday night comedies and then the GOP debate.

My mind was quiet most of the day; even when I’d tried to work through the anxiety cohesive thoughts refused to be formed and as bedtime approached I began to believe that wasn’t such a bad thing. It was a nice day and there was always tomorrow for hammering out words. About eleven I turned off the TV and lights and slid into bed beside The Man. And then, right then, right that very second, my mind went crazy.

It went crazy on this book project and crazy on a speaking engagement that’s coming up in March. It talked to itself and narrated greatness into the backs of my eyelids, screaming for me to get up, go, put it down on paper. But it was jumbled and unordered and I really didn’t want to get back out of bed. I tried to fight it. I tried with all I had. I tossed and turned. I rearranged my pillows, pulled the blankets on and pushed them off. I laid on my side, my back, my stomach, my other side. I pulled a pillow over my head. I told them to go away. I told the voices it wasn’t the time, but they refused to listen and after almost an hour of incessant struggle I got up, stumbled out to the table, opened the macbook and began to type whatever they said. I didn’t bother with the outline. I didn’t care if the paragraphs flowed from one to the next; I completely ignored the need for transitions. And within a half hour I had 1,000 words of, perhaps not perfect, but perfectly suitable content in front of me. Like that.

And I don’t know why it took me so long. I don’t know why I never realized it before but in that moment it hit me: it’s not about the order. I can copy and paste those paragraphs wherever they need to be later. I can add transitions on the edits. I just have to let the thoughts have their way with my fingers for a while. It’s not about the order, it’s not about the outline, it’s about getting it done.

Sometimes I’m such a slow learner.

Tagged as: Books, Cultivate: Writing, Non-Fiction, Publishing