Are You Committed...or Should You Be?

In my last post, I mentioned time’s ability to change absolutely nothing…at least, not unless accompanied by some kind of effort or forward motion on our part. I now realize I left out an important component.

Commitment.

How committed are you to your writing career? Committed enough to get up at 5:30 in the morning to glean an hour or two before the kids or hubby get up? Committed enough to put down the how-tos and actually write? Committed enough to risk rejection by sending that writing to an editor? Committed enough to…

You get the idea.

For years, I didn’t have that level of commitment. It was far easier to work an eight-to-five I loathed than to risk my mortgage by gambling on my talent and self-discipline. Far easier to plop on the couch after work and turn on the TV “just for a few minutes.” Far easier to give in to exhaustion and hit the snooze button every morning. Far easier to go to lunch with coworkers (wet or otherwise) instead of spending the time researching markets or writing for them.

It wasn’t talent I was lacking. That sounds arrogant, but it’s not. Moderate talent combined with hard work and endurance can survive in the writing business. Dozens of published articles and books prove that (okay, just my opinion). It wasn’t self-discipline I lacked. Not completely, anyway. I grew up on a farm, and I’ve spent much of my life getting work done without supervision. No, I lacked commitment. Committing to my writing career felt like stepping off a ten-story cliff, and I wasn’t ready to do that.

In this week’s The Prosperous Writer newsletter, Christina Katz compared the writing life to a relationship. True, and more. For me, making marriage vows to my husband of almost eight years was the easier of the two commitments, even though I’d known my writing habit at least ten years longer. In a way, that’s understandable. Committing to another person only requires faith in them; committing to a career in writing takes faith in yourself. I’ve never been good at that.

Commitment takes courage. Commitment takes faith. And, once you’ve taken that ten-story leap, commitment takes the daily struggle to work through disappointment, to find points of compromise, to turn around and send that query out again instead of running back to the retreats where you used to find solace. Remember Jane Kirkpatrick’s definition of commitment as a banking term? “To make a deposit against which you can later draw.” Commitment means showing up, day after day, to put your pen to paper, fingers to keys, and an investment into your life.

So, before you can put the time into writing, you need to commit to your writing. Only you know how much of a commitment you can make. The level isn’t the same for everyone, because everyone’s dream is different. Without that promise, though, you never will find the time. Not consistently and not for long enough to matter. Until you commit, your writing is only a dream. And you can’t take that to the bank.

Time Changes...Nuthin'

“They say that time changes things, but you actually have to change them yourself.” ~ Andy Warhol

That’s the quote I have at the top of my time management matrix. I’m not a big fan of Andy Warhol in general, but those words are truer than I’d like to admit. I spent years thinking I would write when my proverbial and ethereal ship came in. I would write when I was able to stay at home with the kids, when I had my own writing space so I could concentrate, when I wasn’t exhausted from putting in my eight-to-five (see my post on perfectionism and procrastination!). Most of all, I would write when I had time.

Maybe you’re like that. If so, I have tough news for both of us. We’ll only have time when we find time.

Notice that I don’t say “make” time. We each start out with the same golden 24 hours in our day. Some of us have the balance reduced right from the opening flag by work, school, kids, parents and other unmoving commitments. That doesn’t mean it’s time to put it off and wait until we have More Time. That’s a death knell for a writing career. We will always have commitments pulling at us like a creative rip current, tugging us into the depths of “someday.” And as the Steve Miller Band said, “Time keeps on slippin’, slippin’ into the future…” (Thanks to Lobug for reminding me of that song!)

I was vaguely aware of this concept at the beginning of the year, when I promised myself, “No excuses.” It really hit me in the gut when I heard Jane Kirkpatrick speak at the beginning of April. Jane began her first novel when she was still working full-time with a significant commute and a working ranch on the side. She wanted to write the book, but when did she have time? She ended up asking herself, “What am I doing between four and seven [A.M.]? Nothing.” So, Jane began setting her alarm and getting to her computer by five each morning.

I couldn’t possibly, I thought.

A couple of weeks and a little more desperation later, I heard my own alarm go off at 5:30. (No, I haven't quite found Jane's commitment level yet.) I told myself I was crazy, but I got up and rattled off a couple of pages in longhand. A month and a half later, I’ve written several thousand words in that same tired longhand. I haven’t written as much as I would have liked. I certainly haven’t finished the book. I have, though, written several thousand words more than I would have if I hadn’t jumped in with both feet kicking and arms flailing.

“They say that time changes things…” Time changes nuthin'. The only thing that changes with the mere passage of time—time without any activity or effort—is that you have a lower total of time left on your lifetime balance sheet.

“…but you really have to change them yourself.” If you want to see progress over time, you need to take that balance of time and wring every available moment from it. Maybe you already get up so early that an earlier alarm is impractical, but where else can you wring silver minutes from your day? During lunch? Kids’ nap times? Right after dinner? Right before lights-out? If you look hard enough, there will most likely be some window of opportunity where writing can really happen. It may not be my hour-and-a-half; it may be a half an hour or fifteen minutes, but it exists. Grab it today and GO!
...

Jane Kirkpatrick on "Hardiness"

Last night I had a chance to listen to writer Jane Kirkpatrick at a local women’s dinner. For those who don’t know, Jane is a Christian novelist who writes about the lives of historical women. She’s also “local” to Eastern Oregon…she and her husband have a ranch out of Moro, in the brakes of the John Day River. Jane has published 19 books and has two more getting ready for publication.

Because of the crowd, I didn’t have time to do more than introduce myself and drop a business card, so I didn’t have time to ask her some of the questions I’d prepared. I did draw many gems from her presentation, though, and I’ll share a few here. Even though Kirkpatrick was speaking generally, much of what she said can be applied straight to the writing life. Go figure…she’s written 21 books!

One of the things Jane does in her writing is look at people who have undergone difficulties and dig into the difference between those who let the difficulties shape them into something better and those who simply become cranky. The quality she uses to describe the admirable people is hardiness. According to Kirkpatrick, hardy people understand:

Commitment
A hardy person makes a commitment and sticks to it. To make a commitment is to make a promise, but it’s also an old banking term that means, “To make a deposit against which you can later draw.” When a person—whether a pioneer woman or a writer—makes a commitment, then Providence moves.

Control
Hardy people understand what they can and cannot control. We often can’t control our environment, but we can control our attitudes. People who control their attitudes do so by getting clear on what matters, having the courage to act, increasing their curiosity about what works and what doesn’t, and increasing their compassion toward themselves and others.

Challenge
Everyone faces challenges at some time in their lives, but hardy people face their challenges and look for ways to make the worst possible into the best possible. To draw the strength to do this, they return to their goal…their commitment.

Community
Hardy people understand that they can’t do it alone. They need each other. A point that struck me was how often we forget that when we allow family, friends and colleagues to do something for us, we aren’t the only ones being served. We give when we allow others to do for us. So why are we so afraid to ask for help?

Coping
Kirkpatrick had a wonderful metaphor for this. If you’re as tool-challenged as I am, you have no idea what a coping saw is. Jane had one with her and showed us how it works. A coping saw is used to fit things into tight places. The blade is both strong and flexible, and can change direction quickly without a lot of friction. The blade can also be removed from the handle, put through a hole, and then reattached on the other side. That is, it can go through, not just around.

Aren’t those wonderful gems? I hope you can take something away today and apply it to your own writing life. And, if it gets too difficult, remember something else from Jane.

“You don’t have to write a novel [today]; just pen the first paragraph.”