Author: beckylevine

Becky Levine is a children's book writer, working hard to strengthen her picture-books skills. She is the author of The Writing & Critique Group Survival Guide, a book to help you get started with a critique group, learn to revise from a critique, and strengthen your own critiquing powers. She has also published two nonfiction children's books with Capstone Press. She is currently seeking representation. Becky lives in California's Santa Cruz mountains, where she spends a lot of time sitting on the couch, knitting needles in hand, thinking through the next revision. At her day job, she writes grants for a nonprofit healthcare organization.
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We Need Diverse Books…and What We Can Do About It

Posted on by beckylevine

I’ve been kind of blue all day. It started with me reading all these sharp, short, and clever posts at #WeNeedDiverseBooks and knowing I wanted to jump in, but having this weird feeling that I…shouldn’t. All right, I’m risking showing off a few neuroses here, and I’m going to keep this part of the post short because this is so not about my worries, but I want to share because, well…it’s possible others are having some of these feelings, too. So, basically, my initial self-centered responses were a mix of:

  • I have been very lucky in terms of not having my identity attacked, ignored or dismissed–so lucky that I have no real stories to share.
  • As a  child, I wasn’t looking for other Jews/Jewish atheists in stories; I was looking for other insecure girls who escaped the world by curling up alone with a book. And I found plenty of those. So I basically got to spend my youth recognizing myself over and over and over in books. Again, lucky.
  • When I went to look at my shelves, I was hit with some guilt at the small number of books I had to include in the #WeNeedDiverseBooks photo I did post. Mixed in with recognition that most of the books I save on my shelf are favorites from my childhood and that, while I still believe them to be wonderful books, we are much further along now than we were then in showing the entire, real world in stories. We still have a long way to go, yes, but we’re moving. And mixed in, also, with the happiness that I do have these particular books in my life.

!!Weneed

  • A sense, obviously left over from when I was like FIFTEEN?!, that I am somehow not cool enough to join in this fight. I know…whatever THAT’s about! But I think, again, it’s tied to my feeling of luck, of privilege, of having escaped that isolation of NOT seeing myself in my chosen world. For pete’s sake, there were certainly plenty of times I didn’t see myself in the real world around me, but I did–time and time again–choose books over that world, so, you know…it worked. Because books always told me there were others like me. So how could I step up to the plate and speak “for” others who weren’t given that experience?

And then I started reading a few more of the posts. The signs. Seeing and hearing about the kids. And, honestly, the blueness turned to waves of sorrow. Because, crap, what we’re still doing to children by not representing them in stories. What we did to their parents. Worse, still, what we’re doing to all of them by representing the world as some narrow little definition of peoplehood, of reality, of cool.

So I gave myself a shake and told myself to shake off my stupid, self-centered fretting and shift my attitude. It is my fight, because I care about children and I care about stories, and if you tell me the two are not inextricably connected, I will argue with you even after I lose my voice. So here’s my commitment to myself. I will…

  • Actively look for books that represent the real world, the whole world. I’ll start by building a list of those everyone is mentioning/showing in their WeNeedDiverseBooks posts.
  • Buy more of these books.
  • Check out more of these books from my library.
  • Put in requests for my library buy more of these books.
  • Talk about these books on my blog and via social networking.
  • Talk more.
  • Push myself to include diversity in my own stories. This means getting past the slight laziness about doing research and getting past the bigger fear that I will say something wrong, depict someone stereotypically, offend someone or hurt their feelings. And I will do my best to find Beta readers who can help me avoid/correct all those things.

I don’t know if it’s enough. I don’t know if these are the right steps. But I know I’m doing something.

Join me?

And in case you can’t see the titles in the photo, they are:

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Calling Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle

Posted on by beckylevine

This weekend, I’ve started writing out very basic scene cards, in prep for doing my own kind of Nano-Y first draft of a MG novel.

I say kind of, and I say Nano-Y, because I doubt I’m going to get where I want to go in a month of writing, at least not if the temp job I have continues at a mostly full-time pace. I know there are writers out there who manage, and maybe I will be able to some day, but I’m allowing myself some gentle space as this all falls under a big life-transition umbrella for me, too. I also say kind of, because I’ve never DONE NaNo, so I don’t actually  know the process/guidelines. Instead, I’m basing the process on one I did a few years ago when I, yes, wrote a book in a week (150 pages of wonderful dreck in five days). I won’t be doing it in a week again, either. (For more information about the Book in a Week idea, see April Kihlstrom’s BIAW site. For more on NaNoWriMo, check out their main page.) And I’m starting by creating a very basic card in Scrivener for each scene.

Here’s the info I put on each scene card:

  • Protagonist’s Scene Goal: The ACTION they want to accomplish in this scene. The action part of it is important to me, because without reminding myself about it, I can easily end up in some nebulous sloshy place, a lot like when Milo stalls out in the Doldrums in The Phantom Tollbooth. Yes, character layers and theme are critical, but I’ve gotten so slogged down in those lately, in early drafts, that I’m trying to push them away for now. They’ll come out as I draft and they’ll deepen as I revise.
  • Obstacles: Some of these are from antagonists. (And I’m noting those specifically this time around. The last time I did this, I was really weak in the main antagonist’s story line and had to kluge it in. Which I think worked (no complaints about this in the rejections), but it was a lot of work. So I just want to keep the antagonist stuff further up front in my mind, even in this early dump. Other obstacles will come from the protagonist himself, some from his allies, and one or a few from the environment around him.
  • Response: The basics of what my hero does in reaction to the obstacles. This helps me make sure he fails, fails, fails for a while, the starts to gain strength and fight back with more power.
  • End Scene: The action/moment on which the scene ends. This was a huge help last time when I was trying to blast through from scene to scene, because it gave me a rolling momentum to keep going, keep going, keep going.

And that’s it. Just dipping back in to this method felt so good. I’ve gotten very bogged down in some mix of plotting and drafting in the last couple of years, at least on my longer projects. (Possibly one of the reasons I’ve fallen so in love with the picture book form.) Somehow this tangled mix of needing to just write and needing to know where I’m going was, I think, partially responsible for the historical YA ending up in a drawer for now. (The other responsible parts being the historical and the YA!) And then I’ve done a few false starts on the MG, which make me feel like the YA tangle is looming over me again.

So I want to do it differently. I want to step back to the process that worked so well for my last MG. While I’m not shooting for a whole first draft in a week this time, I am shooting for that same just keep swimming writing technique. The one where I don’t take a break at the end of a scene, but click on the next scene card and write more. The one where revision ideas about past scenes get scribbled on a sticky note and attached to the print out. The one where questions get tossed into Scrivener’s Notes section. The one where I use a LOT of brackets around phrases like [MAYBE A SAMURAI. MAYBE A MIME]. The one where I recognize and remember that THIS DRAFT IS AND SHOULD BE ABSOLUTE GARBAGE, and all the little changes I might even consider making will be totally irrelevant, because AT LEAST 99.99999999999994% of the words will disappear or change. Seriously, last time I did this, when I sat down to read through the first draft, I didn’t even get halfway through, because I realized almost instantly that I’d written my protagonist as an observer and given all the take-charge stuff to his sidekick. Who needed to stay a sidekick. So I started plotting and writing again, making sure I kept my hero active, active, active, and THAT became the so-much-better “first” draft I took through my critique group. And THAT flowed so much more smoothly and effectively, because the garbage came first.

I want that again.

So what does this all have to do with Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle? Well, mostly, she’s on my mind, because I was talking to a friend whose little girl has fallen in love with Amelia Bedelia, who for some reason makes me think of Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle. Maybe because, in my world, as goofy as Amelia is, she has huge doses more of common sense than do the people for whom she works. Kind of like Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle. And, today, I’m thinking of Mrs. PW because she had all those wonderful cures. Remember? “The Won’t-Pick-Up-Toys Cure.” “The Answer-Backer Cure.” “The Slow-Eater-Tiny-Bite-Taker-Cure.”

I think I need an Unsticker-To-It Cure. Oh, I’ll stick to my story. I’ve proved that to myself, in a good way, on these picture book revisions, as well as in a not-so-good way on the YA. What I need to stick to is this process, the rapid pacing, and the pushing through all the distractions and doubts.

So, you know, if one of you could turn to your partner and say, “What are you going to do with this child?!” and then go off to work and totally abandon the other one, who would then call a friend and says, “What am I going to do with this child,” and could listen when the friend says, “Call Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle. She can fix any child,”  well, this child would be very appreciative. Meanwhile, she’ll keep writing.

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Friday Five: Rollin, Rollin, Rollin…

Posted on by beckylevine

Life does keep coming, doesn’t it.

Here’s what’s going on around here:

  • The Picture Book from Hell has regressed back to something gentler and kinder. I backed myself up to an earlier version I had actually kind of liked, and I’m working on a new pass at that. If the creek doesn’t rise, that will go off to the critique group this afternoon.
  • I’ve been looking for work, and a lovely temp job came my way a couple of weeks ago. I’m writing grants again and helping out with a little social media, and I get to work part of the time on-site and part of the time at home, which is a nice balance for now. I have to tell you, the shoot-up fix I’m getting of feeling efficient, productive, and effective is doing wonders for the old morale. I’m also getting back in touch with that feeling that compressed time is often a better place for me than too much leisure. I’m not getting to my writing every day, but the stories are staying in my head, and I am moving forward on stories. And I haven’t noticed any major life pieces falling through the cracks.
  • I’m getting to a stage in the picture-book revisions where I’m thinking there is time to look at the MG novel again. Many years ago, I did April Kihlstrom’s Book in a Week program, and it was an amazing way to get that horrible (yes, horrible) first draft down. That book went through many revisions and came to complete fruition. While it isn’t published (yet!), it has stuck with me as one of the most satisfactory writing experiences I’ve ever had. I don’t have an empty week in the foreseeable future, so I’m thinking about doing my own semi-Nano thing. This weekend, I’m going to take a look at the scene cards I already have in Scrivener and see about setting up a folder just for BIAW/Nano-y scene cars. For me, this means writing out a scene goal for the protagonist and the antagonist, listing obstacles and protagonist reactions, and then dropping in a line or two about how the ending will take us onto the next scene. Last time, this was enough for me to keep flipping through each scene card and just writing. I want to see if I can get there again on this book.
  • Yoga continues. It’s one of the things I promised myself I would not let go of when work came along, and so far I’m managing to keep that promise to myself. As the person who absolutely hated yoga for decades, I am constantly resurprised at how much I love it now. I can feel my body getting stronger and my mind getting calmer, and, heck, yes, I’m an addict. But when I was younger, the idea of heading to exercise after a whole day of work just always seemed more exhausting, and this past week, I find myself getting into the car at the end of the day and looking forward to getting to class. Yeah, and all brain growth and change stops in the twenties or thirties. Not.
  • It’s almost May, which means HS graduation is right around the corner. After that comes summer. And then we’ll be moving our son out to a dorm and watching him start the college life. There’s definitely a sense of mixed anticipation and tension in the air, but I think we’re doing okay. No heads have been bitten off, and everybody’s still talking to each other. And I’m not crying yet. But can I just say….really?

Ian

Happy Friday, everyone!

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Brief Thoughts on the Picture-Book-from-H*ll Revision

Posted on by beckylevine

I give you two definitions:

Persist [per-sist] verb: To continue steadfastly or firmly in some state, purpose, course of action, or the like, especially in spite of opposition, remonstrance, etc.: to persist in working for world peace; to persist in unpopular political activities

          -Dictionary.com

“Insanity: Doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.”

          -Albert Einstein (Supposedly; I wasn’t there.)

And all I’m saying is that sometimes, with revision, it can feel like a pretty darned fine line.

Insanity: doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.
Read more at http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/quotes/a/alberteins133991.html#CrccpM4TWOF60oOb.99D
Insanity: doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.
Read more at http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/quotes/a/alberteins133991.html#CrccpM4TWOF60oOb.99

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Review: Brigid Schulte’s OVERWHELMED: WORK, LOVE, AND PLAY WHEN NO ONE HAS TIME

Posted on by beckylevine

I am just about finished reading Overwhelmed: Work, Love, and Play When No One Has Time, and over the course of its pages, I have had many responses, stretching across a broad range of emotions. At the top of all the reactions was, HOLY COW, THIS WOMAN CAN WRITE. Schulte has made me realize why, in this age of disappearing newsprint and byte-sized reporting, a young person might decide to go into journalism. Because Overwhelmed IS journalism, the kind of quality investigation and prose that made me, a person who often struggles with nonfiction reading, continue to pick up this book over the very excellent novel in which I am simultaneously turning pages. And, in one of the very few times I have ever felt this way about a nonfiction book, I am pretty darned crushed and disappointed that this is the only (although hopefully just the first) book that Schulte has published. Because, frankly, I want more of the questions she asks, of the research she collects, and of the exquisite prose she crafts.

Another strong response has been that I am obviously not as cynical as I thought, because–as I read the book–I was beset, over and over and over again, but a heart-compressing, mind-exploding rage. Schulte did thorough research for this project, and she includes a lot of it in the book. Research about law suits that women have had to file, lawsuits about being discriminated against for getting pregnant, for having children, for making family-based choices. Still, in 2014. F*ing still. Okay, logically, rationally, if you’d asked me if this kind of thing were still going on, I’d have said, yes, of course, duh, because I am a cynic. But apparently my heart isn’t. Because I am angry, hurt, disgusted. Yes, the book has been a bit of an eye-opener. I’m not sure what/if anything I will do with this new vision, but it’s better to get it than not. My awareness, at least, has been broadened.

I spent some time while reading and in the spaces between reading thinking once again about Feminism. I am a feminist and, as far back as I can remember, have always been. You don’t grow up a non-feminist when your mother who was one of the first female vet students at UC Davis and your father as a man who considered himself incredibly to have met and married someone who wanted to build a veterinary practice with him, as partners. For me, feminism is a no-brainer. That said, I’m not naive enough to think that everybody agrees on a single definition of the word, or identifies with it in exactly the same way. What I kept thinking as I read Overwhelmed was, do I see this as a work of feminism. I think that Schulte’s primary focus in the book is her research about working women with children and the way in which their lives can and do get out of balance, whether from an outside perspective or their own or both. It makes sense that this should be Schulte’s angle, because it was in this scenario that she found herself basically drowning in, as she calls it, “the overwhelm.” However, I also think that Schulte recognized for herself and recognizes in the book that the overwhelm hits all of us, women without children, women with children who choose to stay home or work from home, men with children and men without children. She delves into work styles of individual and companies; she explores social and individual influences and drivers; she shares her own personal stories and stories of others–men, women, corporations, and governments–all of whom who are trying to find their way. So, yes, I think this book is a feminist book, both with its slant toward the frustration and imbalances still around for women today, but also in the sense that feminism is–at its root–about equality and not giving up on our fights, all of our fights, to achieve it.

And the last big response was the way in which I found myself reading for clues to and ideas about my own overwhelm. Frankly, I think I’m pretty good at leisure. With my reading addiction and my high-level of introversion, I do make plenty of time for curling up with a book and letting myself do just and only that. It’s my recharge time, and I take it. I also don’t have particularly high standards of house-cleaning, cooking, or filling my family’s days and weekends with a long list of activities. And there’s a chapter on play, which adults (women more than men) tend to leave behind with childhood. I’m thinking about this one, but again–my preferred play as a child WAS reading, and I certainly haven’t left that behind. I’m not sure I need to take the trapeze swinging class that Schulte got herself, too, but I can watch for opportunities that make a ping in my brain and see if I want to pursue them. (Seriously, a half-hour or so with Barbie and her camper might do it). So, basically, I’m feeling pretty okay.

EXCEPT…”contaminated time.” I don’t have the book at hand to give you the exact definition, but contaminated time is essentially those minutes (hours?) that we are ostensibly at leisure, but in which our brains are still looping around the to-do list, or future choices we have to make, or questions about whether a past issue is truly resolved and put to bed. And, oh, yes, I do that. Contaminated time is why I go to yoga classes and why I have started meditating and listening to dharma talks. And, yes, the studies Schulte researched do pretty much show that contaminated time is more of a problem for women than for men. Which I believe. Again, I haven’t sat down and decided which, if any steps, I want to take to reduce the contamination of my time. But it’s another place that Schulte has me looking at myself, at my goals, and at what I might want to do differently to achieve them.

When I heard Schulte talk about her book to Terry Gross on Fresh Air, I knew I wanted to read it. But I think I was expecting something like a very well-written, even humorous self-help book. Which I wish there were more of. That is not what I got. And I’m glad. Because Schulte’s research and writing took me out of looking for a quick-fix solution for myself and brought me back into touch with what is such a varied and yet common reality for so many of us. For so many of us women, yes, but also for so many men. She got me thinking in a different way. And that’s always good.

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And Again: Moving Forward

Posted on by beckylevine

I try not to talk too much online about the actual specifics of where I am on my writing path. I believe that moving forward consists of lots of ups and downs, some of those forward steps, and plenty of backward ones. I think that Jeannine Atkins’ Views from a Window Seat is probably the best collection of thoughts about all these steps and definitely the best overall representation of them and how they feel. I like to join in the conversation at times, and that’s usually what I use my blog and other social media for. Like I said, mostly I stay general.

Today, though, I’m kind of celebrating some specific steps. I’ve had a goal of getting a few picture books to the “ready” stage–ready for submission. From what I understand, if you’re submitting to agents (which I still want to do), they want you to have several ready to show them. So, for a while now, I’ve been working to add to my pile of one. I’ve switched back and forth between these others, sometimes struggling, sometimes following that light at the end of the distant tunnel, sometimes sitting back in frustration and exasperation. But, really, each one has–in its way–been moving forward on its own path.

As of today, my pile of “ready” has grown to three. Ready? Obviously, I don’t know if that means ready enough for an agent or an editor, but they’re ready enough to feel complete and cohesive to me, and I see a layer of sparkle in each one that whispers a quiet, happy “Yes.” And for a minute, let’s even take this out of the submission path, out of the “success” path, and just look at what it actually means.

I have written three picture books.

Wow.

As for the last one I still have to work on, there’s a little voice in me saying, “Hey, you have three. Three is several. Go ahead and send three.” Luckily (I think!), there’s a larger and much louder voice saying, “You almost have four. Keep going.” The little voice says, “But I don’t know what to DO with that one. (The little voice is kind of a whiner.) And the larger voice says, “You didn’t know what to do with the others either, many times. Remember?” And I remember. And the larger voice says again, “Keep going.” (The larger voice is kind of stubborn.)

So I’m pushing on. There’s another curve ahead on the path, and I’m going toward it. This time, though, the picture books in the “ready” pile are helping me along, kind of like rollerblades (a magical pair on which I can actually stay upright) gliding on pavement through a forest of beautiful trees with just a few scary animal noises in the distance. I’m happily carrying my pile with me, and I’m determined to make it a little bit taller.

And when I do…Well, who knows, really? But some kind of adventure–that much, I can tell you.

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Revision: Getting Re-Excited

Posted on by beckylevine

You know when you stare and stare at the monitor and your fingers just sit there on the keyboard doing nothing? Because the picture book in front of you may be technically fine, even good, but it’s not there yet and all the staring doesn’t seem to be giving you a clue about what would get it there? You haven’t found the magic?

The magic? That indefinable ZING! that is in the best stories and that–I really believe–is rooted in a word, a phrase, a detail, a structural twist, but when you read it, what you get is that feeling of Oh, Yeah! Or Ahhh.

Some examples? Sure.

  • Deborah Underwood and Renata Liwska’s The Quiet Book: The absolutely perfect, layered, resonating choices of types of quiet that she made.
  • Jim Averbeck and Tricia Tusa’s In a Blue Room: The stubborness of the little girl, the patience of the mother, and the ever-increasing stillness of the room and the story.
  • Alan Arkin and Richard Egielski’s One Present from Flekman’s The ever-growing gap between the opposing goals of the grandfather and the granddaughter.
  • Sarah Stewart and David Small’s The Library: The utter contentment, even in the moment of highest conflict.

I’m pretty sure that each of these authors had their moments: first the staring, then…ZING! That Could-This-Be-It wonder that they pursued and found out Yes! Or maybe a few times, No! But then, finally, Yes!

Why am I writing about this today?

Because I may have just…

ZING!

sunzing

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Finding Balance in a Story

Posted on by beckylevine

Yesterday, feeling a bit overwhelmed by the changes (unknown) still needed on one picture book, I went back to another that I knew was “close.” (Thankfully, I was right!). There were a couple of consistent comments from my critique group that I had agreed with completely, but that I still needed to take a look at and muse on solutions for. (Thankfully, again, those came relatively easily!) And then I started doing a read-through, since I hadn’t seen the actual words for a while.

And…bing! Something jarred me. For lack of a better description, the story is kind of a two-sided one, one that moves (hopefully in a great story way) from conflict to cooperation. And as I read through, prompted by a great piece of feedback from one critiquer), I realized that–for one important piece of the story–things felt one-sided. Off balance.

That description actually makes it sound like I reached a really clear understanding, all at once. Not true. What I had was more of a feeling–a pinch, a pause, a little alarm bell ringing in my head. I’m not sure yet what I’ll do about the problem; I’m not even sure that making things symmetrical is the right fix. But that bell…I love it. That sense that something is off, that recognition that the off part is right there, and that knowledge that this is where I need to work next. This is what makes revision so awesome (and, yes, so challenging). This is what reminds me that, “success” or not, I’m in the right place doing the right thing. Because I get it. I can see it. And with enough courage and persistence, I’ll probably be able to make it better.

Here’s to happy little bells in our brains.

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Doing the Hard Work

Posted on by beckylevine

I’ve been working on three picture books for a while now. Okay, quite a while. And I’m close. Sooooo close. But you know what it’s like? It’s like when you fold a piece of paper in half, then in half again, and again, and again…Apart from the physical difficulty, you could–theoretically–be forever able to fold the paper in half and never get to the end of the process. I’m at the stage where it feels like I could revise, then revise again, then revise again, and again, and again…

And then there’s this first draft of a middle-grade novel calling. Pages and pages and pages of first drafting. Hours of writing time when you don’t have to (yet) figure it all out, find the perfect word, get the theme and the plot and the character development totally nailed. That feeling of knowing you can put off all the “fixes,” because you’re still wandering through and exploring the problems.

Sure, yes, I know it isn’t really like that. First drafting has plenty of agony. Yes, I know it’s just a siren song right now, tempting me to procrastinate out of the picture books revision, avoid the fear, skip the frustration.

So this week I’m saying, No way, siren. I’m plugging my ears. Tying myself to the mast. Rowing with all my might through the rapids. And sticking with the hard stuff. Because all the work I’ve done so far? It deserves recognition and support. So it’s more picture-book revision at my place.

To infinity and beyond!

 

 

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Chunked Time

Posted on by beckylevine

I just put this book on hold at my library.

Overwhelmed: Work, Love, and Play When No One Has the Time

Why? Well, no, it’s not just the title resonating with huge echoes in my head. Typically, I would probably shy away from this title–it makes me think of people who say all the fault is in our era and that, if we just went back in history to when life was simple and children ran around in the grass for hours, we’d all be happy and at peace. Not that it’s a bad title, and maybe there’s just a bit of defensiveness in  my mind about the time I spend on Facebook, but whatever. 🙂

So why did I order it? Because I heard Terri Gross interview the author, Brigid Schulte, on Fresh Air earlier this week. You can listen here.

I actually haven’t heard the whole interview yet; I’ve been listening in bits and pieces as I fold laundry and tidy things. But I’ve heard enough to know I want to try the book. Schulte talks about waking up in the middle of the night, basically staring into the darkness at her insurmountable to-do list. She did research with people who study leisure time (yes, they exist) and talks about the man who labeled as “leisure” the time she spent playing tic-tac-toe with her daughter when they had car trouble and were waiting for help to come. Oh, yeah, that’s relaxing. She talks about what she calls her “stupid days,” when she forgets all she’s learned about handling life stress and spins back into frantic worrying. Sound familiar? It does to me. I tend to use the term “Tasmanian-Devil Days,” but “stupid” would also fit.

Note, I’m writing  this from memory and paraphrasing, so don’t quote me on the details.

Still, I doubt I’m the only one that will see themselves in Schulte’s stories.

One of the things she mentions that has helped her is doing tasks in chunks of time. I think what she means by this is giving yourself a single thing to do, perhaps in a set of hours, perhaps in a day.  So instead of coming home from work and spend the whole evening tackling multiple tasks, you chunk that time for one job. At least, again, this is my interpretation of the little bit I heard about this. (Obviously, this is why I need to read the book!) But the thing is, this is what I’ve been doing this week. I’ve been working on a temp project for the past couple of months, and when that finished up, there was this pile of paperwork. You know the kind. Oh, yes, you do! The stuff you push aside because it’s going to take more than five minutes, and you need that five minutes anyway to work on your main job, and when you’re done with that main job for the day, you really have to relax with a book because your brain is too tired to look at that more-than-five minute job. And so on and so on… The pile grows.

This was my week to do the pile.

No, I haven’t spent four days straight doing paperwork. I’ve done yoga all four days as well, and I’ve done plenty of reading (currently on The Merry Misogynist, in my reread of Colin Cotterill’s Dr. Siri Paiboun series). And obviously the dishes aren’t stacked quite a mile high.  But mostly it’s been about this paperwork.

I also haven’t written.

My first reaction as I typed that line was that I actually felt my eyes tear up a bit. And my stomach wants to tie itself into a knot. It’s not that I write every single day, and I actually do agree with what Nathan Bransford says in his blog post about not having to do that. But here I was, with a free week stretching out in front of me, and I chose to exclude writing. It was a tough choice, but when I looked at the week and visualized both the pile of paperwork and writing time, it was like staring at a fractured mirror, the kind someone has thrown a shoe at and won seven years of bad luck. On the other hand, when I gave myself permission to gently slide the writing out of the picture and revisualize just the pile (and the therapeutic yoga), I saw a clean, doable path for me to walk. Calmly.

My theme for 2014 is Staying Open. And I think a big part of staying open is, sometimes, letting go–if not always of the writing, then at least of going auto-pilot on the way we have to do things. The way we have to do writing. I do honestly believe that if I had tried to tackle the pile and be creative, I would have done neither well. And the yoga would have become at once another demand on my time and the thing that was failing to relieve my stress.

It’s Thursday afternoon, and the pile is pretty much done. It is completely managed. The follow-up tasks are clear.

As is my mind.

I’m pretty sure I have another week of available time for myself starting next Monday. And I’m thinking that I’ll be chunking that week again. But this time it’ll be for writing.

Have you experimented with this method of picking one task for a chunk of time? Do you feel like you’ve reaped benefits? Or do you feel like that to-do list is still looming over you, shouting NOT DONE YET in your face? I’d love to hear your thoughts.