Category: consistency (page 2 of 2)

avoidance & comparison

September 9, 2015 / / 1 Comment

The difference between “failure” and “unstoppable force” is all psychological.

I’m usually a just get it done kind of person, except when it comes to my own personal work. I get up at 4 a.m. every morning to write, but it often gets pushed back to twenty minutes before I have to be out the door for my day job because shower/breakfast/feed the dog….When I come home I put off drawing because I should finish Learn Lettering first. But I also have to do laundry, and I have a massive headache. It’s so easy to fritter away time by pushing back the one thing that needs your focus until after this one little distraction. The feeling of having waded through all of the distractions and looking for more can feel an awful lot like boredom, but it’s a symptom of avoidance. Unless you’re content doing nothing all day every day (which I suspect my readers are not), you know what you have to do. Why does it feel like the last thing in the world you want to do right now? Because it’s important. Why is it the hardest thing to get started? Because the only person who has any expectations of you is the one person telling you to do something else.

I can crush it at the day job because it’s easy to create a clear to-do list for something external; I can detach myself from it. I can put my head down and work through a migraine because I get paid to and I can clock out and go home at the end of the day. It’s not personal. It’s somehow easier to adhere to extrinsic guidelines, even if you’re the one creating the task list within that structure. But imposing guidelines and expecting results for your own personal work is somehow a different animal. There’s that nagging Resistance monster somewhere deep in my subconscious telling me it’s just a hobby.

What I’m really avoiding is the idea that I could actually be successful at something and be capable of leaving my day job in the foreseeable future. I’m excited and scared of leaving something I know exactly how to do–even if I stopped loving it–and diving into something that’s a mix of both familiar and uncharted territory. I’m avoiding picking one thing because I’m afraid that means saying no to everything else.

It’s also scary because being successful means running with successful people..and being able to keep up.

I know it’s ridiculous to fear leaving behind something that doesn’t light you up inside. If there’s something else that makes you feel like it’s your reason for being, why should there be any fear in pursuing that? I guess we’re geared to seek safety. Mundane is safe. The known is safe. Routine and ease are safe. But staying with the known out of convenience doesn’t challenge us to be our best selves.

There’s a fine line between being inspired by surrounding ourselves people who do good work and being intimidated to the point of self-loathing. It’s important to surround yourself with people who are good at a skill you want to learn or who are good at living life in a way that you’d like to live yours. Glean wisdom from their experience, but be careful not to compare their level of success to yours. This can be paralyzing. There’s a tipping point; beware of it.

You get stuff done by showing up and doing it. You get great by practicing. You get prolific by not letting anything stop you.

I can too easily go from looking at the work of someone I admire and thinking, “I can do that,” to looking at the volume of their work and thinking, “Damn, I don’t just need to step up my game…I feel like I’m not even in the game.” It’s like getting pumped up for a workout. You start warming up and get the adrenaline going. “You’ve got this!” you tell yourself. Then you get lapped by a group of marathon runners and lose all desire to continue. Why? Because you made the mistake of comparing where you’re at now to where they are after lots and lots of training. Giving up and sitting on the bench isn’t going to get you to their level. You step up your game by learning from people who know the game better than you, not by quitting because you’re not good enough. You have to start somewhere and improve you, not compare yourself to someone else’s progress. Even experts were new at something once. Even marathoners had to learn how to walk.

Well, what gives the people you admire that level of success? They have a large volume of work because they commit to doing it all the time. They practice all the time. It’s great if you can look at others’ work and be impressed by how much time and effort they put in to become as good as they are, then be inspired to action. It’s dangerous if you fall into the trap of comparison and let it stifle your motivation. It’s crazy how quickly I went from despairing and feeling like a failure to closing my browser and just writing. When I stopped feeling sorry for myself and started writing, I felt like an unstoppable force. I got bogged down in looking to others because I was avoiding my own work.

But you know what’s funny and never feels obvious at the time? Just doing my own work was the solution to getting my own work done. Imagine that! You get stuff done by showing up and doing it. You get great by practicing. You get prolific by not letting anything stop you. The difference between “failure” and “unstoppable force” is all psychological. The only difference was that I made myself start typing what was going on in my head. It’s kind of a chicken-and-egg situation, but doing is what caused the mental shift from negative to positive. I called out the monster that was psyching me out and keeping me from believing I could be anything. I simply stopped avoiding my own work and the fear subsided.

permission

August 26, 2015 / / 1 Comment

The only difference between you and the people you’re comparing yourself to (and asking permission from) is that they’ve put themselves out there. Did they ask your permission?

I still struggle greatly with allowing myself to pursue what my gut tells me to, but a couple years ago I had a moment of great clarity: I found myself in tears because I realized that I’m always asking for permission for everything. Permission is huge for me, and I’d love to get at the psychological underpinnings of the habit to seek outside affirmation. Am I that riddled with self-doubt? I not only seek permission for things I want to do; for whatever reason I always feel the need to rationalize the things I have to do.

Recently I got hit with an insane workload at my day job (more on this later). Normally, I would feel super stressed out by this, but I find myself unusually calm. I figured it’s because it’s work that I know so well I could do it in my sleep, so breaking it up into manageable chunks and just showing up and doing it isn’t all that daunting. But the sheer volume of the work really is daunting. So what’s different? Why don’t I feel all that anxious? I think it’s that I have permission to put all of my time into the task at hand. My boss made sure I’d have time to do the job instead of being expected to do a bunch of other tasks each day. So I can walk into work with no surprises, and with the tacit agreement that everyone knows that I’m supposed to work on this one big job.

Doing what you’ve been told to do feels safe. Doing something that you want to do is scary. There’s definitely fear behind needing permission. Fear of disapproval, of failure, of looking foolish, of being alone, or of believing that your endeavors aren’t really worthwhile. But only you have the power to be you, and only you can give yourself permission to be your full self. There’s no reason you should seek someone else’s permission to be yourself. You have to be the catalyst, and you have to keep the momentum going. You can’t be authentic if you’re waiting for someone else to tell you what you should do or who you should be. So every story you write, decision you make, drawing you draw—every step you take that you gave yourself permission to take—is what gets the momentum of your success going. The more you keep going, the less you’ll care about what other people think. You will have found your path and your voice and your stride and your rhythm, and no one can tell you it’s wrong and no one can take it from you. So “you do you,” as they say, because no one else can.

Consistency is what gives you permission to call yourself something.

I still have a hard time giving myself permission to call myself an artist, even if others label me as such. I’m only beginning to come around to the idea that I can call myself a writer because I write. I get up every morning and write. It’s something I do every day. I write every day, so I’m a writer. I don’t really “do art” every single day, so I don’t feel justified calling myself that. Consistency is what gives you permission to call yourself something. You can call yourself whatever you want; it’s what you actually do that people will notice and identify you by. Who you are isn’t defined by whether or not you’re getting attention, or if somebody picked you out of a lineup of other people vying for attention, or somebody telling you that you’re good enough. You are what you consistently do. Everyone else is too worried about themselves to give you permission to be you, so don’t bother living for anyone else’s approval. Chances are, whatever it is your heart is telling you to do isn’t going to end in mass destruction. If you’re adding to the good, you’re adding to the good, even if no one praises you for it, even if no one notices.

So quit hiding behind the excuse that what you’re doing isn’t polished. Everyone’s life is a work in progress. But it doesn’t add to the good if you don’t put it out there. The only difference between you and the people you’re comparing yourself to (and asking permission from) is that they’ve put themselves out there. Did they ask your permission? Maybe you won’t change the world, but playing it safe and keeping yourself to yourself doesn’t change the world either. When you show up every day, you are showing up to the same world as everyone else, but you are showing up with your story.

When I think back and try to recall any regrets in my life, i can only think that there are many times I didn’t push myself to my full potential. I wasted time waiting for someone to tell me what to do. Any time I’ve put my authentic self forward and did what I wanted to do without permission, it has only ever been a good result. Permission is an illusion. My only regrets are when I’ve not showed up, when I haven’t fully participated in life. I own the power to show up and follow my gut when I own the fact that I’m the author of my reality. I don’t need your permission to do great things. You don’t need my permission to be excellent. You are because you do. Do your thing every day.

building momentum

August 12, 2015 / / 0 Comments

Every act of creating is a stroke of the blade that sharpens the tool of your passion. You might not know what that is yet, but every creative action will bring that much more clarity to what fulfills you.

Lately I feel listless, frustrated, and directionless. I always want to make the most of the days that I don’t have to be at my day job, but without a clear-cut goal I have no idea where to start. What am I doing with my life? I still can’t get myself to write blog posts. I don’t know what to say, so this listlessness must be rooted in a fear that my voice is meaningless. I think I’ve also put too much pressure on myself to be successful at something outside of work so that I can quit my job as soon as possible. Every morning I dread going to work. I go in just hoping to have enough energy by the end of my shift to come home and work on something I want to do, even if only for a brief period of time before my husband comes home. This is no way to gain momentum. But I guess I have to start somewhere. Just do anything, I keep telling myself. I feel like I’m wasting time.

I know I shouldn’t be checking my email before I do my daily write, but I got an email from a writer whose newsletter I recently subscribed to. “Feeling overwhelmed? Don’t overthink it. Just do the next right thing.” —Michael Hyatt. It’s about his most recent podcast episode, which is super relevant to what I’m feeling right now. It’s about regaining momentum when you’re feeling overwhelmed.

In this episode, you’ll discover:
• Why the big picture is the last thing you should focus on when you’re feeling overwhelmed.
• One of the fastest ways to develop momentum when you’re stuck—it’s simpler than you think.
• The difference between your areas of concern and influence—and why the distinction is critical to keeping your momentum.
• Why comparison can be a momentum killer.
• How to avoid the pitfalls of overthinking and underacting.
This is exactly where I’m at. I’m thinking big picture instead of just doing, and it’s psyching me out. Also, I’m holding myself up to others’ standards and trying to live up, which makes me feel like a failure and keeps me from trying. That’s ironic, since my last blog post was about just getting it out there instead of being paralyzed by the desire to be perfect. I tend to look down on people who don’t give 100%, but isn’t that still better than giving 0% because you’re afraid your efforts will only amount to 75? JUST DO. Any action you feel like doing will be a step in the right direction. It doesn’t have to be perfect, it just needs to get started. Do anything. Feel like doing a pastel on paper? Do it. Feel like making a Shrinky Dink? Do it. Feel like practicing your lettering? Do it. Feel like writing a haiku? DO. IT. Every act of creating is a stroke of the blade that sharpens the tool of your passion. You might not know what that is yet, but every creative action will bring that much more clarity to what fulfills you. The world’s shortest sentence gets the point across perfectly: Do.
When I’m at work wishing the day was over, I try to pay attention to what it is I’m itching to do as soon as I get home. It always seems to be something different, and I almost never end up doing it. Maybe I’ll start a habit of immediately writing down what it is I hope to do when I get home. This won’t be a “to-do” list, but rather a list from which I hope to discern a pattern over time. What is it that I consistently have a desire to do, even if I don’t make myself do it? If there’s a pattern, I need to follow through with action. No comparing myself to anyone else, no trying to fit it into the bigger picture, no overthinking. Just do it. Then do it again. Then keep doing it until you have so much momentum that you’re an unstoppable force, even if at first that thing seems mundane or meaningless in the moment. It doesn’t have to be meaningful now. If it’s something you enjoy and can keep doing consistently, that consistency is what’s going to prove worthwhile. Show up. Do. Ship it. Repeat.

Even the act of posting this, even though it’s very far from 100%, is building momentum. It may not be perfect; it may not even be good. But if it helps one person–even if that person is just me–then it’s a step in the right direction. Show up. Do. Ship it. Repeat.

on journaling

January 23, 2014 / / 8 Comments

originally prompted by julia cameron’s concept of ‘morning pages,’ i have returned to my habit of trying to knock out 500 words in my notebook every morning, however mundane the subject matter. invariably, my entries remain so mundane that i become rather embarrassed and begin to question the benefit of such an exercise. but i keep at it, because so much of writing is making time for it, developing the habit, showing up to the work. get out the nonsense while developing the routine of writing, eventually making room for your creative voice to make itself heard.

so the muse, in her infinite wisdom, must have seen fit to give me a token of reassurance that this undertaking is not in vain. i’m fortunate enough to often be able to listen to my ipod for a few hours at work. i’m obsessed with a handful of podcasts, not the least of which includes Selected Shorts, a collection of short stories performed live on stage. Today I listened to Parker Posy read Joan Didion’s essay “On Keeping a Notebook.”

Keepers of private notebooks are a different breed altogether, lonely and resistant rearrangers of things, anxious malcontents, children afflicted apparently at birth with some presentiment of loss.

“yes. go on…” said my brain.

How it felt to me: that is getting closer to the truth about a notebook. I sometimes delude myself about why I keep a notebook, imagine that some thrifty virtue derives from preserving everything observed. See enough and write it down, I tell myself, and then some morning when the world seems drained of wonder, some day when I am only going through the motions of doing what I am supposed to do, which is write — on that bankrupt morning I will simply open my notebook and there it will all be, a forgotten account with accumulated interest, paid passage back to the world out there…

this is how i feel about keeping a notebook. it’s not the same as keeping a journal. i do not merely recount things that happen from day to day. i’m free to write whatever i like, even though it is often very dull and seems pointless to commit to paper. but i do enjoy going back and reading the stupid little things that i, at one point, did commit to paper because some part of my brain saw fit to remember it in the first place. even though the insecure “rearranger” in me cringes, there’s something less lonely in the remembering.

our notebooks give us away, for however dutifully we record what we see around us, the common denominator of all we see is always, transparently, shamelessly, the implacable “I.” We are not talking here about the kind of notebook that is patently for public consumption, a structural conceit for binding together a series of graceful pensees; we are talking about something private, about bits of the mind’s string too short to use, an indiscriminate and erratic assemblage with meaning only for its marker.

she continues that even if the notebook keeper doesn’t herself know the meaning of what she writes, there is merit in the exercise. it benefits the writer to be fanciful and without censor, because it belongs to no one else.

thanks for the nudge, Joan. and happy belated 79th.

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