I have a reputation for being on time. One I am proud of. In fact in the rare occurrences when I am not on time - people who know me tend to worry that something must be wrong. It's helped me to build business relationships and develop trust. But it stresses out some of my friends - especially the ones who are always running late.
As it should.
There are a lot of people who think it doesn't matter. They have no problem keeping other people waiting. They think it does not mean anything to say they will meet you at 10AM and be a half hour late.
The fact is - not being on time says a lot about who you are - personally and professionally.
It says you are disorganized.
It says your life is in disarray and you don't have enough of a handle on it to keep your appointments.
It says you commit to things and don't follow through.
Most importantly - it says you don't value my time.
It says you don't think I'm significant.
It says you don't care.
It's not a good way to do business.
It's not a good way to make friends.
And in a world in which you have nine seconds to capture someone's attention - you've lost before you started.
If you need help managing your time - may I suggest It Takes An Egg Timer - A Guide to Creating the Time for Your Life ?
available in paperback and Kindle on Amazon.
Here I sit with no shortage of topics to write about or projects to delve into. It is snowing outside with no signs of letting up until early tomorrow morning - or so says the weather report. Which should mean that cozy in the confines of my home/office this should be a very productive day. But if you ask me how many words I have written (it is now after 1PM) the answer would be to count back to the first word in this paragraph.
Eighty-five.
Not very impressive.
But that - I have come to realize - happens.
That is part of the struggle of being a creative.
That is the angst of being a creative with enough left brain tendencies to be annoyed with myself when not accomplishing what I think to be a day's work.
That is what will reoccur no matter how many times I have gotten to the other side of this quagmire.
I am always surprised when I am in this spot. I wanted to believe the last time was - the last time. I am no less frustrated than I was before. I know all the tricks to get past this.
Set the egg timer.
Sit.
At my desk.
Don't move until it goes off.
But that does not mean that any of them are going to work.
The Resistance - as Steve Pressfield has so eloquently described it - is my green-eyed monster.
Everyone has one. Mine comes equipped with little gray pellets it shoots at me than make either want to take multiple naps or do a lot of laundry. And sometimes - just when I think I am about to rise above it - my monster shoots another set that sends me off to Facebook or Twitter so I can read all the great stuff other people are writing or doing while I am just making my list. Rather than inspire me or egg me on - it makes me want to take- yet another nap.
Until something happens.
Like now.
And I get to hit publish.
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The other day someone unsubscribed to my blog. I got the usual sinking feeling in my stomach that I always do when I am confronted with rejection.
Am I doing something wrong?
Am I going to lose all my readers?
Am I really just a bad writer without a clue?
I tried to quiet all that noise and this is what I got to.
Maybe, just maybe this person is doing what I've been doing.
Purging.
- The newsletters I signed up for, liked for a while and am now done with.
- The newsletters I didn't sign up for but found their way in because someone shared my email without my consent.
- The ones that propagate themselves. You know that kind? You sign up for one and suddenly you are getting five versions of the same thing several times a day and no matter how many times you think you unsubscribed they appear again.
- The "official" junk/spam that if you open will send a virus cursing through your computer.
My inbox overfloweth.
It's full of noise and clutter. So in preparation for the beginning of a brand new year I've been cleaning house.
Unsubscribing here, there and everywhere. Making room so I can get to what's most important for me right now.
So I should understand.
I shouldn't let it faze me.
But I'd be lying to say that it didn't bother me.
So I won't.
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I've been stuck.
In a creative quagmire.
I'd call it writer's block but if - as Mitch Joel reminded me in his blog this morning - you listen to Steve Pressfield or Seth Godin - no such thing exists. As much as I admire and respect all three, the fact remains that my ability to get words on paper has been obstructed, blocked, closed down - whatever you'd like to call it - since the New Year started.
I feel like one of those automobiles in the now infamous traffic jam that was the brainchild of Chris Christie's staff last September. Sitting amidst this congestion of ideas and projects - all spinning in my head with nowhere to go and no idea when the mess will let up and things start flowing again.
Frustrated.
Unsettled.
I've tried all my usual tricks including reading my own book and setting my egg timer. I sit and I don't let myself get up until it goes off. But I don't have much to prove for it.
Mitch Joel asserts the Internet will break your creative block. On the one hand I agree with him because I do find reading what others write a source of inspiration. Case in point was reading his blog this morning. On the other hand it can be a huge time waster if one is not disciplined with it.
But I can't blame trolling Facebook on this stoppage. In fact, as much as I would like to affix responsibility to someone else I have really only myself to blame.
I have been writing. Just nothing I really like. Nothing I think is really good enough to be shared. Nothing that passes Upworthy's quality test regarding content.
The one that really trips me up is "If 1 million people saw it, would the world be a better place?"
I'd like to think so. Hope so. Believe so. But really?
Those are the kind of suggestions that make me wonder if I will ever share one more word with anyone - ever!
As I am writing this it's occurring to me that perhaps that might be one of the things that is contributing to the lack of creative output at the moment. I've been trying too hard. I've been waiting for perfection. I've been comparing myself to the infinite scroll of everything else that is out there and telling myself it's not as good.
I've forgotten who I am.
A writer.
Above all, I am a writer at my core. And a true writer writes so they can breathe. They write to function. They write to make sense of life. They write to remember who they are.
And if they wind up resonating with a million - or even one person - then that is a very good day.
A special thanks to Mitch Joel - for the inspiration for this post!
