Category: I Do Declare

I Do Declare: It feels pretty good to complete a book

As I mentioned in a previous post, I took a hiatus for a while, during which time I wrote a book (among many other endeavors, some pretty awesome, some not so much).

Which means, sadly, that I missed the moment to do a blog launch for my book.

Well, here it is: Charleston Celebration: A History of Pleasurable Pastimes from Colonial Charles Town Through the Charleston Renaissance (published by Globe Pequot Press, an imprint of Rowman and Littlefield). It’s available everywhere; just ask your local bookstore to order it. (The link above goes to Amazon.)

In upcoming posts, I’ll favor you with an excerpt or two as well as some insights on how and why I wrote it — but for today, here’s the intro so you can get a feel for what it’s about:

* * *

Introduction

Many books have been written about Charleston, a fact that should surprise no one. The Grand Dame of the South has been here for centuries and has many fascinating tales to tell.

The tales are so fascinating that, I do declare, doing the research for this book was the best rabbit hole I’ve ever been down.

There are books and articles that detail how Charleston endured the Revolutionary War and the Civil War, write-ups that dig into specific topics like architecture or piracy, and published pieces that offer insights into the people, places, and politics.

One doesn’t have to search long to find a wealth of information about Charleston: short histories, in-depth studies, surveys, compilations, the lighter side, the darker side, and a treatise on just about every aspect of the city.

This book delves into one specific aspect: Charleston’s pleasurable pastimes through the years. And there are many. There’s a reason Charleston keeps receiving accolades like being voted year after year as Best City to Visit, Friendliest City, Most Enjoyable Place to Visit, and so on.

The simple truth is that Charleston loves to entertain and to be entertained. She seeks out the beauty and joy and pleasure in her charming surroundings, and she invites others to enjoy them as well.

In her book, Prints and Impressions of Charleston, celebrated artist Elizabeth O’Neill Verner wrote that, “It is so difficult for a Charlestonian to write about Charleston without becoming either sentimental or austere.”

How right she was. At one point in my research, I realized that I could either wax eloquent on every instance of entertainment – and, because the city never stops seeking enjoyment, possibly never finish the book – or accept that it might not be possible to capture and catalogue every instance of amusement throughout the years. I went with the latter, and I hope you, gentle reader, will forgive any omissions.

This book was a great pleasure for me to research and to write. It is my fervent wish that you will find great pleasure in these pages.

Shelia Watson
West of the Ashley
Charleston, South Carolina

I Do Declare: Change is constant … and constantly reordering my pristine to-do list

Photo/Anthony Watson

The ancient Greek philosopher Heraclitus once said, “Change is the only constant in life.”

Far be it from me to argue with an ancient Greek philosopher, but I’d put politicians talking out both sides of their mouths and getting spam email after you’ve signed up for something on the list of constants.

But to his point: Yes, change is a-happenin’ all the time. Heraclitus also had a paradoxical communication style and was totally into wordplay, so we’re giving him full credit.

Change is on my mind quite a bit lately. It seems that everywhere I turn, one thing or another is starting to be different, and it’s occurring in a way that makes me stop and take notice. Like the spider lilies in the photo. They’re in bloom now, but in a few weeks the flowers will fade. This is a prime example of change I don’t like. I like the flowers. I want to see them all the time.

I chalk it up mostly to some recent choices I’ve made – and some of this I talked about in last week’s post – because choices usually lead to changes (not always, though: choosing to keep doing what you’re doing is still a choice), and sometimes those changes are horribly jarring, and I have to stop and get my bearings.

Why I tend to react that way to change is a mystery. Change happens so much and so often, you’d think I’d roll right along with it by now.

How much has change happened to me? Let us count the ways:

Over the course of my life, I’ve changed everything from schools, jobs, and churches to my address, cars, and passwords.

I deal with it daily with things like changing my clothes, my mind, and what I thought we were having for dinner.

Change in my life has run the gamut from rearranging our TV viewing schedule to leaving behind people I thought were my friends to reallocating time to focus on new priorities.

And those are just some of the changes I’ve personally made. I have an entire history of changes that were thrust on me without any foreknowledge or express written consent (which is my preferred way of dealing with change).

And that brings us right up to this week, where we get to experience a changing of the seasons on Wednesday. That’s right, the summer solstice is upon us, and that means hot, sticky, humid weather and, because I live in “hurricane alley,” one eye on the tropics at all times.

This is no sudden, jarring change. I’ve had plenty of notice – written notice, even. It’s right there on the calendar. Spring is giving way to summer, which will morph into autumn, which will allow winter to take over, and then spring will come alive again, and so it goes, round and round.

I don’t like the seasons to change; I want it to be autumn all the time. And the only conclusion to that statement is how fortunate we are that I am not in charge of nature.

If nothing else, the changing of the seasons reminds us of the constant of change. Just like Heraclitus said. We can no more hold back spring moving into summer than we could expect that I’ll never buy another car. One day the days will get cooler and autumn will be here (finally!) and I will get a new phone and will have to learn all over again how to upload apps. The nip in the air will get bitter cold and I will meet new people and “friends” who were untrustworthy will fade from my memory. The temperatures will warm up and the freezes will thaw and my priorities shift just enough to clear my path and I’ll find a new wine bar where my friend and I can meet to talk about writing (another constant).

The seasons are marvelous teachers, with their singular lesson plan of Change Is Good. And Heraclitus was right: It is constant. Like the north star. The best we can do is fix our compass and ride it out.

I Do Declare: It’s worth it to focus on the what, the when, and the why of choices

A few weeks ago, as I was thinking through some changes in my professional life, I said to a friend, “I wish I could clone myself or stretch time so I could do it all without having to choose.”

My friend replied, “Having choices is usually a good thing. Why does the actual choosing seem hard for you? You already know what you want, don’t you?”

My wise friend had just given me a challenge of pondering my decision-making skills. And ponder I did, all the way down a rabbit hole of thoughts and memories.

* * *

You can’t have it all.

I used to hear that especially whenever I got to the point of exhaustion. This was back in the day when my kids were small, when I was a full-time mom and had a full-time job and volunteered at school and taught Sunday School and offered help to family and friends whenever asked.

I was trying to be all things to all people while tackling a daily to-do list that ran several pages and was prioritized and color-coded. It was the best of times; it was the worst of times; it was the whirlwind of times.

I get exhausted just typing about it.

You can’t have it all.

This message came at me from all sides. Sometimes from my own mouth.

And the core of the message was this: Choose what you want. (The idea being that everything else gets moved to the wayside.)

After a while, I learned how to better manage my time, energy, momhood, volunteering – and I even got good at saying “no” (imagine that!).

The mantra became: Yes, you can have it all … just not all at the same time.

Which changed the core message to: Choose when to get what you want. (I decided it was a matter of prioritizing. Organizing that to-do list for maximum efficiency.)

Now that I’m older – and, let’s hope, wiser – I have a different focus. It’s as if in the past few years – okay, quite a few years – the need to have it all (or be all or do all) has given way to needing to know the reasons behind these choices.

Essentially, I transitioned from acquisition to assessment mode. Did I really want to have it all? I mean, seriously: If I got everything I wanted, where would I put it? And for what purpose? To what end?

These ponderings led me to: You don’t have time to do/be/have it all.

Whose core is: Choose something for why you want it. (It’s a simple flowchart: Does it have value? Yes: Do it. / No: Don’t.)

If time, energy, and resources are limited – and let’s be honest, they are; none of us is here on this planet forever – then determining the value of what we’re doing is even more critical.

* * *

No, I can’t have it all. Not even if I stretch out the acquiring of it all over a lifetime. And that’s fine. I don’t want it all. I just want what has meaning and value. I don’t want to waste time on things that have little or no significance. Of all the things that can be wasted, time is the one that cannot be replaced and is the most regretful when lost.

I’m sure I’m not the first person to come to these conclusions. But realizing how my misguided choices had undermined the achievement of my real / true / valuable goals was an eye-opener.

I climbed back up from the rabbit hole and called my friend.

“I thought about your question,” I said. “Yes, I do know what I want. I want to be a writer.”

She laughed. “You already are.”

I laughed too. “It was an easy choice.”

I Do Declare: I’m back and my current mood is Feeeling Good

My longtime readers will have noticed that, except for the occasional Vim and Verve post (those snark gators have so much to say) and a meme or two, I took a hiatus from this blog for a bit.

During the hiatus, I detoured from novel-writing and screenwriting to focus on other areas of my skill set, and in doing so, I discovered the high cost of not doing what you were put on this earth to do. (Steven Pressfield goes into this in his book The War of Art and his blog.)

Thankfully, the time I was gone also gave me opportunities to regroup, refocus, and reenergize. Which made the whole excursion so worth it. (My friend Angie Mizzell goes into this exercise too.)

More on this in future IDD posts. For now, I’ve invited Nina Simone onto my post to celebrate my return to following the path meant for me.

How does it feel? Well, the lady nailed that sentiment with precision:

I Do Declare: Adjusting expectations and pace does wonders for productivity

This is my preferred pace for novel writing.

This time last year I did a mid-year check-in proclaiming that the year was half over and it wasn’t anything close to what I thought it would be.

That was mostly because I didn’t foresee a worldwide pandemic and shutdown, which threw all my carefully laid plans into a whirlwind state.

This year it’s different. Mostly because I lowered my expectations. No, that’s not right. My expectations weren’t lowered – that would imply that my standards were lessened, and that’s not happening – as much as adjusted.

I used to have a massive to-do list with calendar pages filled in and check boxes next to each item, all of which were color-coded according to media, genre, and due date. I threw everything I had into getting those boxes checked, and I got frustrated if I didn’t meet the goals I’d set. I then would spend time trying to figure out how to get back on track. Back in the fast lane.

But after spending a year in a forced slow-down, I decided to revise the way I do things. It wasn’t easy, and it wasn’t immediate. There were lots of fits and starts and some aggravation along the way. But I finally came to “new and improved” methods for productivity.

Nowadays, I set my big-picture goals and work my system (butt in chair every day; finish what I started; write first, then edit) in a way that will get things accomplished. I found out that if I work the system, I’ll reach the goals.

I adjusted my pace too. Last year the plan was to hit the ground running, go at full pace, and get stuff done. Yeah, and we know how that went, don’t we? Screeching halt followed by a reassessment of … well, just about everything.

Over the course of the year, I slowed down – there was no alternative, really – and worked at a more determined pace. More focused. More deliberate.

Instead of pedal to the metal all the time, with my motor running even when I took breaks, I stopped the vehicle and took time to look around and take stock of where I was, where I wanted to be, and what I needed to do to get there.

Instead of go-go-go, it was look-ponder-plan. And that felt good. So much better than the frantic pace I’d been on before.

All that said, what have this different pace and adjusted expectations helped me accomplish?

  • A book deal
  • A screenplay that tied for 1st runner up in a prestigious competition
  • A line of journal books into production
  • A line of crafts into production
  • More clarity in my work and my plans
  • A calmer mind and spirit
  • A consistently better mood

That last bullet point is reason enough to consider changing how to go about getting things done.

I’m glad I did.