It's almost August, and the summer is quickly disappearing. What did you plan to do this summer? Write? Edit? Learn a new language? Plant a garden? What did you actually accomplish?
I'll start. I had planned to edit an old novel for publication, finish writing a new novel, polish a couple stand-up routines, and continue working on my guitar and learning French. What have I accomplished? Hmm. Not much. I'm forty pages into my edit. I haven't written anything new, except posts. I have rough drafts of a couple stand-up sets, but they DO need work. Lots of work. Pas de French. Also pas de guitar. Not nearly what I'd hoped to accomplish.
So where did the time go?
Granted, the surgery that has had me recuperating on my couch for longer than I'd thought it would - threw me off. As did leaving Rogue Women Writers - which pushed me into revamping my website and rethinking my social media presence and was a distraction in other ways. But still, I'm disappointed in how little I've gotten done versus what I'd planned.
I've spent way too much time watching old movies, watching news, and reading - both novels and articles. I've spent way too much time on Facebook, obsessing over national craziness and personal slights. And, I know if I weren't stuck on this couch, I'd be out walking in the beautiful Vermont summer, and taking photos. Oh, wait, photography. Something else I'd planned to do that I haven't done. (I have way too many interests and hobbies.)
So once again, I wind up disappointed in myself - and blaming myself for not working harder. Not focusing. (I do have ADHD -another topic.) And this is a familiar - and circular - dynamic. I set goals. I don't meet the goals. I'm disgusted at myself for not meeting the goals - which makes it harder to focus on those goals because, after all, what's the point, just going to mess up.
Setting goals for the summer seems a sure fire path to failure.
Is the solution not to have goals? Not to have any goals seems defeatist as well. To have fewer goals? Or maybe trying not to look so far ahead? Yes, it's very human to try to plan far ahead, but as the Yiddish saying goes, Man plans, God laughs.
So maybe - just set a daily goal. It could be small. It should be specific. Edit ten pages. Do one rewrite of a stand-up. Write a blog post. Stay the hell off Facebook. And at the end of the summer, maybe I can look back on the small day-by-day accomplishments - and say, hey, that didn't suck.
Or not.
What do you think?
I'll start. I had planned to edit an old novel for publication, finish writing a new novel, polish a couple stand-up routines, and continue working on my guitar and learning French. What have I accomplished? Hmm. Not much. I'm forty pages into my edit. I haven't written anything new, except posts. I have rough drafts of a couple stand-up sets, but they DO need work. Lots of work. Pas de French. Also pas de guitar. Not nearly what I'd hoped to accomplish.
So where did the time go?
Granted, the surgery that has had me recuperating on my couch for longer than I'd thought it would - threw me off. As did leaving Rogue Women Writers - which pushed me into revamping my website and rethinking my social media presence and was a distraction in other ways. But still, I'm disappointed in how little I've gotten done versus what I'd planned.
I've spent way too much time watching old movies, watching news, and reading - both novels and articles. I've spent way too much time on Facebook, obsessing over national craziness and personal slights. And, I know if I weren't stuck on this couch, I'd be out walking in the beautiful Vermont summer, and taking photos. Oh, wait, photography. Something else I'd planned to do that I haven't done. (I have way too many interests and hobbies.)
So once again, I wind up disappointed in myself - and blaming myself for not working harder. Not focusing. (I do have ADHD -another topic.) And this is a familiar - and circular - dynamic. I set goals. I don't meet the goals. I'm disgusted at myself for not meeting the goals - which makes it harder to focus on those goals because, after all, what's the point, just going to mess up.
Setting goals for the summer seems a sure fire path to failure.
Is the solution not to have goals? Not to have any goals seems defeatist as well. To have fewer goals? Or maybe trying not to look so far ahead? Yes, it's very human to try to plan far ahead, but as the Yiddish saying goes, Man plans, God laughs.
So maybe - just set a daily goal. It could be small. It should be specific. Edit ten pages. Do one rewrite of a stand-up. Write a blog post. Stay the hell off Facebook. And at the end of the summer, maybe I can look back on the small day-by-day accomplishments - and say, hey, that didn't suck.
Or not.
What do you think?
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