Category: I Do Declare

I Do Declare: The year’s half over and this isn’t anything close to what I thought it’d be

I’m an extreme planner. By this I mean I start every day with a checklist, and I slash my way through it like I’m bringing in the harvest. Which is exactly what I’m doing, I suppose.

I have a master plan that includes an overall 5-year view, a more detailed 2-year view (grouped into quarters), a 1-year view (grouped into months), and weekly views (transferred to a separate planner that groups the weeks into daily views).

I call it my roadmap. I update it every year – reviewing the previous year and moving the specifics (e.g., removing the past year, adding the fifth one out) and revising my goals. Things change. Life happens. Plans get adjusted. We move on.

Last December, I put together a tight plan for 2020 incorporating everything I wanted to accomplish. Here’s roughly what it looked like:

  • Various tasks with my day job (goal-setting per corporate mandate)
  • 1 novel (in progress, about 75%) completed
  • 1 screenplay (in progress, about 90%) completed
  • 1 novel (outlined) to rough draft stage
  • 1 series of ebooks (6 books, in rough draft stage) completed and published
  • 2 cruises (one in May, one in October)
  • 1 trip to the Outer Banks (in July)

Besides all that, I brainstormed monthly fun activities with the kids (individually … so we could spend quality time alone together) and put them into envelopes, which they would open on the first day of each month and see what was in store.

2020 was going to be my year. My goals might have seemed a bit aggressive, but I was eager and excited and down for it. I was all: “Come on, 2020, bring it on! I’m ready!”

Needless to say, plans fizzled out rather quickly due to circumstances beyond my control in ways no one had a clue were about to happen.

  • Who knew we’d barely be into the new year before a pandemic would shut everything down?
  • Who knew the shutdown would affect almost every sector of the economy, causing layoffs – and that I’d be hit with the euphemistic RIF (reduction-in-force)?
  • Who knew I’d grow – in a remarkably short period of time – to despise words and phrases like “essential” and “shelter in place” and “we’re all in this together” and “flatten the curve”? (Ok, given my irritation with buzzwords, that didn’t surprise me. But still…)

And yet. AND YET. I refuse to fall into the Pit of Pessimism. Sure, we’re halfway through a crazy year that no one could have foreseen, but I’ll be honest: It hasn’t been a complete loss. I did learn some things. True, most of them I’d already known. But it took the extreme nature of this year to remind me and to hammer the lesson home. Which isn’t bad.

Things like:

  • Flexibility might be a better attribute than ability. So you get knocked down. That happens to everyone at various times. What’s important is how quickly you can get back up. Learn that life skill and apply it.
  • Being debt-free is probably the most sane and mature goal of all. I am channeling my inner Dave Ramsey here. If things get wacky all of a sudden (like … you know … the way they did …?), it’s so much easier to deal with if you don’t have a ton of debt that required your day job to stay even-keel.
  • I might say I need peace and quiet to work effectively, but that might not be true. Being without human contact for a long period of time has made me appreciate small moments of connection. I will never again take that for granted.
  • Making plans, even if they get disrupted in the zaniest way possible, is still a worthy endeavor. Just because I couldn’t rock the heck of out 2020 with my bullet list doesn’t mean the list wasn’t fabulous. I will simply have to stretch the goal line out a bit. It’s all good.

I expect that my review this December will be quite the introspective journey. And I can’t say I won’t be glad to see this year move on into the history books. It’s my hope that when I make my aggressive plans for 2021, I’ll do it with a measure of the wisdom I acquired this year.

At least that’s the thought that might get me through the rest of this year.

I Do Declare: A good opening line is like a siren call to the muse

typewriterSometimes it’s hard to get started. This I know all too well, having spent many a day staring at the computer screen, hands poised, waiting for inspiration to take over.

But let’s be honest. No self-respecting muse will dash to your side and start nudging and cajoling you into doing your own work. You have to get going first. Then she shows up.

This being the case, I am always on the search for ways to kick-start my writing. One effective way I discovered is to take an opening line and free-write for about 15 minutes. That quarter of a hour usually gives me enough forward motion to get into the story I need to be doing.

The cool thing is sometimes those warm-up exercises turn into stories themselves.

Try it out. Here are some opening lines to help propel you into your story:

  • The cure for seven deadly diseases sat on the shelf in the room across the hall, and no one could do a damn thing about it.
  • I’ve never quite gotten over my fascination with Milton.
  • There are three perfect ways to die, and by the time she was 23, Sally had learned them all.
  •  I never should have given him the code.
  • Henry happened to be there when the tide pulled a jon-boat past the dock, its hull empty except for a cast net in the bottom, full of shrimp.
  • At some point, all parents have to lie.
  • In the woods behind the house, Mary and Janet found a magic hat.
  • Lord have mercy, the sermon lasted so long I forgot I was still mad at the preacher and shook his hand on the way out without meaning to.
  • Voicing an unpopular opinion on Twitter is to face judge, jury, and executioner all at once.
  • No one could have predicted that three hours one afternoon would change the world.

If none of these are to your liking, you might try opening up a magazine or newspaper, grab the first sentence you see, and use that as your opening line.

Go write right now!

 

I Do Declare: Alligators are perfect

gator1I love alligators.

To be clear: I don’t want to own one, and I keep a respectable distance from them.

My affinity for the creature is more of a metaphor. I think of alligators as a perfect example of being what God created you to be and being happy in it.

The thing is, I’ve always had a problem with this concept of being comfortable with what I am and being happy with what God created me to be.

I’ve spent time seeking after things I’m really not meant to do — certain jobs, careers moves, assignments — sometimes because of a grass-is-greener-over-there mindset and sometimes because I’ve made assumptions about what I “should” be doing and sometimes because I listen to advice that’s best ignored. And it ends up creating a lot of unnecessary friction in my life. This has been a struggle for some time.

gse_multipart28970One day, as I walked around a park, I watched an alligator swimming through a lagoon. And I was struck by the thought that God had created that creature to be exactly what it was: It cannot be domesticated, it can be found among groups but prefers working alone, it understands and fills its needs (sleeps when it’s tired, eats when it’s hungry, etc.) and when it’s not working, it lies around sunning itself on a bank.

And I thought, “Hey, wait – that’s me as a writer.” True story.

I was gripped by the insight that this is God’s perfect design for this creature, and it’s an illustration of His perfect design for me — to be what he created me to be and to be happy in it. Sure, I can strive for excellence in what I do, but when it comes to who I am, I should not strive for any more or less than to be the creative, passionate, inspired, excited, deeply joyful individual that I already am and to rejoice that I was put on this Earth to be one of His beloved daughters.

It was an exciting moment when I realized this. And since then, the alligator has been the inspiration of that designation of God’s perfect design. I’ve collected a lot of alligator memorabilia, because that insight — moving though it was — sometimes gets lost in the day-to-day minutia and I need the reminders.

I have several alligator necklaces, a pair of alligator earrings and several alligator nick-nacks, stuffed toys and what-nots around my office to remind me. I have a three-foot plastic alligator that sits outside my office. I named him Cicero, and he looks real enough to have frightened people. I like that. Who wouldn’t want a guard-gator?

The alligator is an amazing creature. It has an undeserved reputation as a monster-beast, but maintains the good grace to be exactly what God created it to be and to be happy in his own skin.

We could learn a lot from the example.

 

I Do Declare: Jazzing up the blues is the only way to deal with a RIF

Yep, I caught it.

No, not Covid-19. I caught the RIF – the dreaded Reduction-in-Force – when I got The Call one morning along with about 1/5 of my employer’s workforce.

And I’m here to tell you that no matter how well-worded the notice or how compassionate the delivery, the RIF call is definitely a wind-sucked-out-of-the-sails moment.

Some of my colleagues reached out with condolences and encouragement, which were comforting. There were also a few platitudes – among them: “it’s not personal, it’s business,” which makes me roll my eyes so far back into my head I can see my brain. Because it is absolutely personal to me.

I didn’t hold that against them, though. Really, what can you say to someone who’s just been labeled “professionally nonessential” in the most public way?

To be honest, I barely registered any of their words. Instead, I was hearing something my grandmother said years ago when I’d met with a huge disappointment. She told me, “It’s easy to feel powerless right now. But you get to choose what you do with this. And that gives you a lot more power than you think.”

Right she was – then and now. With her words echoing inside me, I sat myself down, dusted myself off, and did some serious brainstorming on the topic of Choosing What To Do With This.

Here’s my list, hopefully free of platitudes, offered up for those who may be going through the same bout of introspection:

  • Resist the urge to wallow. There’s a difference between honest introspection and pathetic navel-gazing. Learn that difference. Take stock of your assets; you’ll probably find there are many. Above all, remember that RIF is not stamped on your forehead. You are still valuable, and – this is fabulous news to many companies out there – you’re now immediately available.
  • If you absolutely must wallow, set a limit on it. Yes, it does suck. No, you didn’t deserve this. Yes, you did give 110% and hardly ever complained and were the best company cheerleader. Ok, fine. Take some time – I recommend three hours; if that doesn’t do it, then no more than one full day – to beat your chest and wail and whine and cry and whatever else you need to do to get back to your best self. You cannot set the world on fire when you’re pouting. Fact.
  • Leave like a boss. Be professional. Chin up. If you need to wallow (see bullet above), do it solo or in the company of a trusted friend. No social media rants or one-finger salutes as you’re exiting. Speak well of the company and the coworkers you’re leaving. Because – guess what? You are a boss now. You’re the boss of you, and you will be throughout the job search and/or your entrepreneurial launch. Act like it.
  • Take care of business. It’s time to face facts about your money, your health, your housing situation. Be realistic and practical, but also remember to face forward. Don’t look back and compare how things were. Live in the now and do whatever is needed to create a safe and secure future. If your severance package included assistance with these areas, take advantage of them.
  • Make yourself a priority. Do you have a few weeks of medical or dental insurance left? Schedule some appointments and use it up. Get yourself in shape. Start exercising and finding healthy recipes. (Let’s be honest, you have the time now.) Find inspiration where you can. Feed your mind and soul with books and museums and culture. (Even in our current Covid-restricted world, you can access these things online, so there’s no excuse.) Get to work on your bucket list. If you don’t have a bucket list, start one.
  • Remember, you’re still on the clock. It just happens to be your clock. Whatever your next steps are – and yes, you do get to choose those steps, just like my grandmother said – you need to work hard at it. Spend the bulk of your day learning everything you can about the companies you’re applying to or those you’ll be competing against. On the flip side, be sure to schedule some down time (your own version of PTO) to recharge. Do not neglect this detail. I’m serious – get it on your to-do list.

After I compiled this list, I realized something. My colleagues were right when they tossed out the “business-not-personal” platitude. Dealing with a RIF actually is business … but it’s the business of managing your personal prospects.

And where to from here? Why, to hear some encouragement from Nina Simone, of course. It’s a new dawn, it’s a new day, it’s a new life for me. And I’m feeeeeeling good!