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Day 5: What advice would you give for getting unstuck?

Unstuck from a muddy road? A dead end job? Or the dreaded Writer’s Block?
Since I’ve suffered from “Writer’s Block” far too long and too often, I’ve collected advice from every source available. Some suggest keeping two projects going at once so you can change around when you’re stuck on one. Some suggest just sitting at the computer for a set length of time; further along that suggestion is to type out whatever nonsense words come from your fingers until you’ve flipped that creativity switch. Use one of the Do or Die writing aids.
Get some exercise, go out into the sunshine and commune with nature. Maybe wash some dishes or take a drive so that the mindless activity will help free the creative side of your brain (a walk might be safer than a drive.) Trick yourself by setting a timer and only letting yourself write for that set period of time. Set up sprints with other writers.
I’ve tried all of these and they have worked. As long as I keep doing them.
But
Nora Roberts doesn’t believe in writer’s block. She sees her writing as a job, same as going into the office every day. She’s not alone. In fact, when you start delving into the habits of very effective authors you find the same approach from nearly all of them. Yes, there are a few ‘burst’ authors who manage to produce good books in a very short period of time. Many of them admit to total exhaustion afterwards as well as a fervent promise to themselves NOT to try that again.
It’s the same as housekeeping (yeah I know ICK BOO.) You can either work at the house every day, a little bit at a time, or let it pile up to be last minute attacked in a violent burst of where the heck is the vacuum.
Guess which is my housekeeping style?

Fire Dragon over the jump, photo by Anita LG

Closer to my life and my passions, if you’re trying to keep your dog in condition to succeed in competition, either conformation shows (basically beauty contests) or performance events (running, jumping, or displaying their willingness to do what you tell them to do) success is far more within your reach if you work with them every day, not just cram training or conditioning or grooming into the last few days before the event.
That last paragraph was all one sentence. And it made sense. Looks like writing every day has helped me remember how to write.
The same as our legs and backs, our brains are muscles that can become stronger with exercise. And, yes, weaker with inactivity. Again, consistent routine exercise.
When I treat my writing like a job, and show up to work with my brain in gear and ready to produce, it’s far easier to ignore the doubt bullies who tell me I’m not Nora, or Darynda, or Doranna. Because they’re right, I’m not. But I am me; I’m kicking those doubt bullies to the curb and stepping on their squishy bodies on the way back to my book.
Oh, it helps to have one book in publisher edits and another contract on the way. Yes, we can do this.

Day 4: Teach us something that you do well

Pessimists scorn every rose has a thorn, but an Optimist knows every thorn has a rose.

Hmmm, I could list many things I don’t do well, but that’s actually one of the negative things I do well. What about the positive? I can’t remember when I first read this little ditty about thorns but it’s been ingrained in my psyche for a very long time. It took a long time to teach myself that how I chose to approach situations directly influenced how the situation affected me. Obviously many aspects of a situation were beyond my control. But my reaction was not, or should not be.

If I was in a power outage, then I could get to bed earlier and get some serious sleep. A long driving trip meant seeing new parts of the country. If I’d made that trip many times before then I could watch for changes along the way. If I was late leaving on a trip, I would be driving through at an entirely different time of day. This happened last year on my way to Pueblo Colorado, and I drove through the pass between New Mexico and Colorado as the sun was sinking. My only regret while seeing the sunset displayed against the mountains and on the plains was a lack of time to pull over and pull out the camera. But I have been able to capture  many New Mexico sunsets from my back yard, a great advantage of living on the plains.

Snow and freezing temperatures are the norm here in the winter. I could either moan about feeling cold or revel in the accidental beauty all around me. I’ve chosen to do the latter. I loved my many roses in California, but found they did not do nearly as well in

Ice on roses

what has turned out to be a wind magnet. But ordinary hedge roses, acclimated to the area, have produced far beyond expectations, holding on even when I forgot to tend them. Thorny bare branches have become a favorite subject with just the right combination of temperature and moisture.

Looking for the roses among the thorns might seem a useless form of entertainment. After all, the online dictionary describes Pollyanna as excessively, blindly, unreasonably, illogically optimistic.
Ouch.
Pollyanna played what she called the ‘glad game.’ Every morning she thought of at least one thing to be glad about. Hmmm, I’ve learned to do that. Every morning I wake with my legs working and

Faerie Queene

my eyes seeing is a good day. The mind takes a little longer to catch up. And since I also wake with my Salukis, life really is pretty darned good.

Tomorrow’s question is: What advice would you give for getting unstuck? I wonder, does this mean in the mud, in writing, or in life? This just might call for another cup of coffee.

Day Three

For a Girl

The Question: Something I think should be improved.
How can I choose only one thing? Let’s see. Okay what about the way women are perceived and presented to the world. Dumb Blonde. Ditzy Dame. Silly chick. Airhead. I’m sure you can fill in so many more derogative titles, all said with the pretense of humor.
I recently found this incredible video, sponsored by Always. Like a girl:

Here I am past 60, and I sat there with tears trickling down my cheeks. How many times had I allowed these words to be said about me? How many times had I toned down my activity, my strength, so I wasn’t thought of as not girly enough?
I finally said to hell with ‘them’ and lifted large bales of hay, mucked straw stalls, mowed the lawn, changed my own tires and batteries and oil. Yes, I was a girl but I was not less than.
Even today, when we should be in a better place; even in our first world society, we find girls still too often considered ‘less than.’ We still see salary disparities. And we still see elected officials interfering with the right to control our own lives and bodies.
What can be improved? Our own mindsets, and the way our children see each other. Not “Smart for a girl” or “Fast for a girl” or for that matter “Clever for a boy.” But Smart and Fast and Clever…and wouldn’t that be wonderful?

Questions go along with this challenge. Yesterday’s was why am I doing this Challenge? I wanted to push myself back to blogging on a regular basis. As I was planning my blogs I realized I also wanted to examine some issues that had been bothering me for a long time.  Which led to today’s question: Tell something that’s important to me. The long term ongoing negative treatment of the female of ours species is a major issue for me. As I mentioned yesterday I was raised in an era of automatic male superiority, not to mention jobs divided by gender. Women cooked and cleaned. Men cut grass and worked outside. I really, really wanted to mow the lawn.

Continuing on my quest to demolish songs I thought I loved. Let’s look at Red Roses for a Blue Lady. Kinda schmaltzy but still seems sweet. Until we look at the lyrics. The crooning male is asking the florist to wrap up some red roses, since his girlfriend is sad (blue lady.) They had a “silly” quarrel and he’s hoping the flowers will make her less unhappy.
Who decided that quarrel was silly? The man? If the disagreement is profound enough to make her so unhappy she tells him to go away and leave her alone, then there is generally something serious going on. Yes, arguments can be trivial but there is generally some underlying factor. The man is hoping those pretty flowers take her blues away. Does he think if he throws some flowers at her she’ll go all googly eyed and forget whatever it was they were arguing about?
Oh, that’s right. It was a ‘silly’ quarrel.
Hey, mister. Have you ever thought about, just maybe, TALKING to her? Maybe trying to understand why she might be upset? Or do you have the standard belief system of a male at that time? From the lovely musical Camelot: “Never be too disturbed if you don’t know what a woman is thinking. They don’t do it very often.” (Merlyn talking to Arthur, in the song “How to Handle a Woman”)
Really? In 1960, we’re told women don’t think very often. Well no wonder that man thought some dead flowers would convince ‘the sweetest girl in town’ to get over herself and marry him.
My husband generally bought me rose plants. They lasted longer

Tomorrow’s question: Tell us about something that you think should be improved

Hoo Boy

I’ve signed up to participate in Seth Godin’s challenge to blog every day about things that matter to us. I submitted mine this morning, and while I wait for it to go live I thought I’d share. I’m bothered by the messages deluging us throughout our lives. How a ‘good girl’ acts. How to ‘be a lady.’ How to show proper respect. The messages are deep seated and insidious so this week I’m sharing some of what I’ve observed. Not everyone will agree with me, which is fine. Open exchange of opinions is so healthy.

 *  *  *

We all know about mondegrens…misunderstood song lyrics, some of which can be pretty darned funny. One favorite is “I’d Really Love to See You Tonight,” in particular the refrain: “There’s a warm wind blowing..” and then either “…the starts are out” or “…the stars around” I’ve seen it written both ways. Since this song was playing when my late husband proposed to me you’d think I’d know the words better.

I can remember the DJ explaining it was “Please LOCK me away” before he played “A World Without Love.” Now that goes way back. I haven’t listened to DJs since…well a long time ago.

Right around that same way back time I started listening to moody, bluesy songs, which often lamented the difficulties of lost love and misunderstandings. And though I was a young (very young) woman in a society where males were automatically leaders and Father always Knew Best, I found myself questioning lyrics.

Such as How Important Can It Be? I heard the next line as “That I tasted utterly,” and thought ‘Nonsense, like the male she’s moaning about hasn’t done it with multiple women before he met her.’ Just recently I pulled this song up again, and realized I had totally misheard. The actual wording is “That I tasted OTHER LIPS.” What??? She’s feeling guilty because she kissed someone before she met this current heart throb? And her community is ostracizing her?

What sort of message did this send to young people trying to find their own identities? Stay away from girls who are not totally inexperienced? Judge women to a higher standard than males? Pile on the guilt until you break a girl’s spirit?

And people wonder why women took up feminism to help with their identities. I’d like to think this is in our past but sadly I’m afraid it’s not. Which will be the theme of this seven days of blogging.

It’s all about perspective. Seriously. One man’s trash??

And it’s sometimes just how and where we focus. We can look for the amazing and spectacular or we can look for the mundane, in any situation. I’ve attended school recitals with people who did nothing but criticize and mock the children’s efforts, and also with those who was simply there to enjoy the evening. Who would have been more fun as an evening companion?

How many of us have known photographers and artists who see brilliance in a snow laden branch, a forest in the twilight, or a branch slanted across their path?  Books about ordinary people going about their ordinary lives are never considered successful until an author illuminates the inherent dignity or exposes the raw truth about existing in a grim environment. Geniuses one and all for their ability to show us beauty in the mundane.

Just a bit of ice on a weed

Is this ability inherent? I used to think so. I once believed only geniuses, those born with innate talent, would be able to see these marvels. Which would then mean only geniuses could write marvelous books and only geniuses could find and capture those special moments. The best the rest of us can do is mediocre pap. Then I realized I was too busy throwing fences between myself and the world to see the potential rich beauty all around me.

I was also missing out the major component to success in any field, be it painting, writing, riding. Work. Plain and simple you have to work for success. Yeah, I know, truth isn’t very glamorous. With work we develop our eye and our mind to find and reveal the beautiful in our world.

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HAPPY NEW YEAR!