Ready, set, new year

Ready, set, new year

If you have a dream to write or create, you probably have your sights set on the new year as a good time to recommit to your goal.

You probably also believe that once we've passed through the holiday ring of fire, you'll have cleared a lot of new space, time, and energy that has otherwise been occupied with shopping, events, and clearing your desk for the holidays.

Glorious guilt and procrastination

And, surprise, surprise, there do tend to be a few glorious days in January of peace and quiet... but usually with the essence of guilt and procrastination swirling around the edges.

Because even though you've promised yourself you'll get started right away on your writing or art or dream, you don't.

It's not what you think it is

But don't feel guilty. It's completely normal. You see, once you actually have that big block of time you've been longing for, the raw, naked fear comes bounding in and masquerades as wanting to sleep in or take some time off after all the hubbub. What's wrong with that? "Yeah, I know I said I would write today but it's new year's day and I just want to get a little more sleep. I just want to spend the day relaxing for a change."

It looks like needing time off (and you probably do actually need it) but it's really fear.

Here's the thing

(And, yes, we've talked about this before.)

Resistance comes up around anything worth doing.

We tend to recommit -- at least mentally -- to the concept of doing those things in the form of new year's resolutions.

Guess what?

Those resolutions trigger even more resistance.

Which leads to more distractions, and smokescreens, and procrastination. And stress. And self-doubt.

No more stories

There's ALWAYS something.

Always.

So.

How about instead of making resolutions, we decide to make new life decisions about setting ourselves up for a long-term, sustainable, regular practice of our art? No more grand sweeping gestures and big talk but instead an actual realistic, attainable plan to take small, daily actions to move you toward your goal?

For instance:

  • If you want to write, commit to writing for 15 minutes a day.
  • If you want to move your business forward, commit to doing the hardest tasks first (usually marketing, right?), for 15 minutes a day, every day.
  • If you want to paint, set yourself up so that you can paint a little bit every day. Use the two-second rule to make sure your watercolors and sketchbook are close to hand.

Find the smallest increment of absolutely do-able, sustainable, accomplishment you know you can meet, and commit only to that, nothing more. If you find yourself not doing it, make it smaller. And let me know how it goes.

Warmly,

 Jenna

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On the subject of accomplishment amnesia

On the subject of accomplishment amnesia

Accomplishment amnesia is a common ailment that strikes many of us, particularly those of us that are highly conscientious, responsible, talented, and highly sensitive. It seems to run in parallel with these traits.

What is accomplishment amnesia?

Accomplishment amnesia occurs when we get so busy meeting our obligations and moving on to the “next thing” that we quickly forget what we’ve done in the past (however distant or recent) that has value.

I find this malady particularly comes up when we get into a place of self-doubt — we can’t remember a single thing we’ve done or accomplished. We feel useless, talentless, valueless.

We might even feel creatively blocked or numb because we are devaluing the work we’ve done but are not appreciating.

A darn good job

I’ve been going through a rough patch lately, and I noticed recently that as I’ve been starting to feel better, I’ve been berating myself for not having done more lately. “Why am I so behind? How have I let things get like this?”

I stopped myself and noticed what was really going on: I had accomplishment amnesia.

I quickly reminded myself of all the personal challenges I’ve faced over the last couple of months, including having surgery on my wrist, and shifted the conversation to noticing what I have done: filed my taxes, settled a car accident claim, dealt with an intensely difficult emotional time, never missed writing a blog post, coached my clients, continued running my writing community, and carried on writing my screenplay no matter what. Wow! I’ve accomplished a lot under very difficult circumstances.

Sure, there’s more, there always is. But look at what I’ve done!

Does this happen for you too?

Most of my clients have this kind of accomplishment amnesia. They’re so focused on what they haven’t done, that they forget to celebrate what they have.

Here’s how you can start to shift out of this delusion that you haven’t done anything worthwhile:

1. Catch accomplishment amnesia early.

When you notice yourself falling into the pattern (like I did), stop and take stock. Is it really true that you haven’t been doing enough? Take a few minutes to review what you actually have done. You’ll be surprised.

2. Don’t buy into the standard definitions of success and accomplishment.

Don’t limit yourself to society’s success definitions. Instead, think about what you’re proud of. Create your own definition of what it means to be successful.

Just yesterday, some of my writing pals and I were discussing what it means to claim the title of “writer.” Many of us are discovering it has much less to do with being a published or sold writer (though many of us are striving for those), and everything to do with showing up and doing the writing regularly — having a writing practice.

3. Set small milestones.

Increase your sense of accomplishment by setting and celebrating small milestones as you attain them. Instead of only celebrating when you complete the book, whoop it up for every chapter. Then when you do hit the finish line, make sure you celebrate that point too.

I’m rewriting my screenplay using Chris Soth’s “Mini Movie Method,” which lends itself nicely to this sort of milestone assessment. Every 15 pages I complete another mini-movie, so it’s easy to create a sense of accomplishment as I go.

Look for similar small milestones in your own work.

4. Celebrate your accomplishments in the moment.

I watched a fun video of Tamara Ireland Stone, author of the young adult book, Time Between Us,* which I just finished reading and very much enjoyed. She had just received her box of copies of her book and made a point to celebrate with her husband and friend and glass of wine. I hope she’ll do the same for every future book as well.

When you do have an accomplishment, STOP what you’re doing and celebrate. Build the muscles of appreciation for yourself and your work.

5. Create a “brag book.”

I’ve forgotten where I first heard this term, but the idea is to create a scrap book of your accomplishments so that you can go back and remind yourself, “Yes, I’ve done some amazing, wonderful things.” And you have. Include anything and everything you can think of that you’ve accomplished. On my list: birthing my son, finishing my first screenplay, completing graduate school and earning two master’s degrees, nurturing an incredible friendship with my best friend, becoming a certified life coach, etc.

Bottom line

It’s all too easy to think of ourselves as never reaching the finish line when there’s always so much more to do. Rather than thinking you’ll never get there, remember to enjoy what you’re doing along the way. It’s the journey, after all, that counts.

 

 

Creating a cycle of creative renewal

Creating a cycle of creative renewal

In my last post, I wrote about the cycle of creative burnout and how our creative inspiration becomes depleted when we push ourselves too hard and for too long.

I'm well acquainted with burnout; it's a cultural norm in the field of urban design, my last "real" J.O.B. The writing profession has its own set of deadline-driven, high-stress work.

In the creative realms, including writing, artists are often seen as people who work in fits and starts, pulling all-nighters when they suddenly become inspired (or finally stop procrastinating).

I've allowed myself to enjoy the feeling of heroism that comes when I swoop in and save the day, meeting the deadline with just seconds to spare, but I've paid high prices for every single one of those dramatic experiences: apathy, resistance, confusion, grief, exhaustion, and lifelessness.

And truthfully, I STILL feel like I'm recovering from the bad choices I made working 60 and 70 hours a week more than 10 years ago.

Balance is a myth? I don't think so.

It's been said that balance is a myth and that passion should reign supreme.

I disagree.

Imbalance is an amateur's gig.

Balance -- an ongoing cycle of work and renewal without resorting to extremes -- is part of not hitting bottom in the first place.

Balance is about staying sane.

It doesn't mean that we don't work hard and play hard at different times.

But it does mean keeping an eye on the greater whole and not bingeing on any one thing at any given time.

So what DOES a cycle of creative renewal look like?

The cycle of creative renewal

It looks like this:

When you have nothing left

When you have nothing left

In my writing community we periodically talk about creative burnout.

In our Western culture we work hard, driven by puritanical work ethics, cultural programming, keeping up with the Joneses, guilt, etc. It's no wonder we're exhausted.

We push and push ourselves, expecting our wells of creativity, resourcefulness, and inspiration never to run dry.

And then one day, we turn to the well and find it empty. No ideas. Maybe even a sense of dread and apathy.

The only way out is through

In a recent blog post, Mark Sanderson talks about his experience with this kind of creative depletion and how he recovered from it. Interestingly, his solution had to do with carrying on and doing the work no matter what.

He said:

"Some call it 'writer’s block.' I call it sheer terror. When this happens you need to relax and continue to work at your process. I know this too well from experience, but it still proves true every time – the only way to solve specific problems is to sit down and focus on the work."

It seems the only way out is through.

It takes courage

Writing -- for that matter doing anything that calls us to step out of our comfort zone -- requires a great deal of courage. A willingness to be uncomfortable often. To sit in it, do the work, and get to the other side.

No wonder we tend to procrastinate rather than facing that terror and doing it anyway.

Procrastination and burnout are close cousins

I've observed that procrastination plays a key role in creative burnout -- part of a vicious, intertwined cycle:

 

The reason we work past the point of endurance and exhaust ourselves is that we have procrastinated for so long that we are forced to push ourselves. And the reason we procrastinate that we are afraid.

I love what Steven Pressfield says about fear in his book Turning Pro:

"The professional, by the way, is just as terrified as the amateur. In fact the professional may be more terrified because she is more acutely conscious of herself and her interior universe. The difference lies in the way the professional acts in the face of fear."

 

Why we procrastinate, especially about the stuff that really matters

Why we procrastinate, especially about the stuff that really matters

I had a lovely chat with a friend recently about applying to a school program she's interested in. She confessed that even though she very much wanted to attend the school, she hadn't yet completed the application.

Ah!

That familiar friend: Procrastination.

Why do we procrastinate about things that are important to us?

Why is that when it comes time to do the hard work, whether it's taking action on our businesses, filing important paperwork, writing that longed for novel or script, or making time for our art, we stall?

I mean, sure, it's hard, but we've also said how important it is to us. We've spent money on classes, books, training, and support. We've written it into our schedules. It's clearly a priority for us, right?

So why so much talk and not so much action?

It's the size of the dream that matters.

I'll say that again: It's the size of the dream that matters.

The more important something is to you, the more fear, procrastination, and resistance you experience. In fact, the level of fear you feel seems to be directly proportional to the size of the dream.

Perhaps even a little bigger, just for good measure.

"The more we care about something, the more we dream, the more fear shows up."

~ Robert Maurer, author of One Small Step Can Change Your Life: The Kaizen Way

 

The problem: We're wired to shut down in the face of fear.

The fact that our brains are wired to shut down in the face of fear is what creates the entire conundrum in the first place.

As Robert Maurer describes in One Small Step Can Change Your Life: The Kaizen Way, when our brains go into fight-or-flight mode, our frontal cortex -- our thinking, rational brain -- is automatically shut off so that we can respond appropriately and quickly to the threat at hand. This is a natural response to fear. Unfortunately, our mid-brains, home to the amygdala that governs the fight-or-flight response, can't differentiate between the fear that comes up when we're confronted with a tiger or when we're contemplating completing the next great opus.

And so suddenly your thinking, rational and creative brain is completely turned off . . . which when you're attempting to create and design new business ideas or a screenplay, isn't so helpful.

The good news

The good news is that when you can learn to expect the fear to show up, you can normalize it and make it okay. Then it's easier to be compassionate with yourself and coax yourself through the tasks at hand.

I've learned to recognize my own resistance routine and treat it like a familiar visitor I know how to handle.

I tell myself, "It's okay, I know you're scared, you can do this anyway." And I do.

It helps that I make a point to tackle things in small pieces, just the way Maurer recommends: "Small, easily achievable goals -- such as picking up and storing just one paper clip on a chronically messy desk -- let you tiptoe right past the amygdala, keeping it asleep and unable to set off alarm bells."

This is why, even on really tough days, you'll still find me writing at least 15 minutes a day on my screenplay, six days a week, no matter what.

The really good news?

The more work you do in small steps, the more your brain gets rewired with new neural pathways and new habits, making resistance so much easier to overcome.

Warmly,

Jenna

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