Category: writing life (Page 6 of 18)

Notebook at the Dining Room Table

One thing I’ve noticed lately is that my focus during my writer’s notebook (WNB) time has been getting a bit scattered. I usually write in my WNB at my work desk in the mornings, and my computer is right nearby (it’s an L-shaped desk), so as I’ve started writing in the notebook, my brain will get the itch to check some email or internet-y thing, and before I know it, I’m toggling between the WNB and the computer.

Not a great move for what’s supposed to be analog, handwritten, pen-and-paper time. I really value the act of handwriting in my notebook. It uses a different part of my brain; it generates ideas differently than my computer typing does. I sometimes do those mind-map things in my WNB, or I draw charts, so using pen and paper instead of a word processor is suitable. But generally, I just like writing by hand and keeping all my stuff in a notebook.

And yet, when I write at my work desk, the computer is always siren-songing, trying to get me to click on something, and I have little power to resist. The WNB writing becomes hectic and scattered and often truncated.

As things would have it, this morning I wrote in my WNB at the dining room table. And guess what? I wrote a good two and a half pages without interruption. I got deeply immersed in the topic I was writing about, and I felt a lot calmer and more thoughtful afterward. The complete opposite of the scatterbrained, divided self I’ve become at the work desk.

Austin Kleon has talked about his analog and digital workspaces, and I guess I thought I had those two spaces in the two lengths of my L-shaped desk. One side housed my computer (digital workspace), the other a clear, open desk (analog). But they’re not two separate desks, and the reality is that the digital workspace has a kind of foggy aura that creeps from the computer and envelopes the entire desk, both sides of the L. I’m not kidding that the computer is a kind of singing siren. Even if I try to focus on my WNB, the screen is just over my shoulder, a huge shiny-eyed overlord, watching and willing me to turn my focus toward its all-consuming gaze.

At the dining room table, I’m free of the screen’s glare. I can actually immerse myself in the blank page without feeling like some omnipresence is watching me.

That’s the thing about these screens, isn’t it? Even when we’re not using them, when we’ve got them turned off or in sleep mode, or the cover on the iPad is closed, their very presence in our proximity makes us itchy and anxious. Better click on that browser just to see what’s going on… Better open that app just to check…

This behavior is antithetical to what I want from my WNB. Being at the dining room table — surrounded by windows to the outside where the bird feeders are active with songbirds and squirrels — and away from any digital device, means I can focus deeply on the WNB.

Maybe I need to do my notebook writing at the dining room table every morning.

Blogging Every Day? (Again?)

I don’t know if this is a worthwhile challenge for myself, but maybe I should try blogging every day again.

(To use the word “again” feels like a bit of a stretch. In late 2020/early 2021, I almost managed to blog every day… for a few weeks. But when March rolled around, I was back to sporadic posts and self-loathing. So, to say I’m doing this “again” feels misleading. Anyway. The point is, I’m gonna try blogging every day.)

The trouble with a challenge like this is that my life is filled with the ups and downs of raising young children, and there’s a reason Hollywood directors don’t like working with kids or animals. I can have the best intention of blogging every day, and then suddenly I’m taking care of three sick kids with a stomach bug, or someone’s broken their arm, or they’ve all declared war against each other over who gets to play with the big foam blocks.

I hate setting a challenge for myself and then not completing it. Story of my life, unfortunately.

But I’ve being doing a private challenge for the past several weeks, and that challenge is still going strong despite the hectic life I sometimes lead. Back in the beginning of March, I made a commitment to write at least one sentence of fiction every day (with Sundays being an optional day), and since March 6, I haven’t missed a single week. There are days when I can only write one sentence, but I still write it and count it as a day in my habit tracker

Maybe something similar can be applied to blogging. I might not write long, epic posts every day, but I’ll post something. I’ll write a quick missive about what I read or watched or listened to, or something I noticed the kids playing, or an update on how my writing is going. I don’t know. Kind of a “show your work” project.

I still want to write longer, more in-depth blog posts, but perhaps I can work on those slowly while also posting my shorter, day-to-day ones. A bit like how I write my newsletter.

I might fail this challenge, but I’m still gonna take it on. I’m nothing if not persistent, I guess.

Substack, Notes, Time, and Attention

Substack — the platform I use to publish my monthly newsletter — has been introducing a range of different services lately, including a Chat option and now something called “Notes,” which is a bit like Twitter, minus the hellscape stuff.

(They also have an app which you can use to read newsletters, participate in chats, and now follow and read Notes. I guess an app was inevitable, but the whole “app” thing is just annoying to me. It’s another way to keep people in constrained ecosystems instead of allowing them the freedom of the entire internet. Whatever, I’m just old, I guess.)

I haven’t used Chat yet, and I’m not sure how I feel about Notes either, though I do welcome healthier alternatives to places like Twitter.

But that’s just the thing. Is Substack’s Notes going to be healthier for society, and for people individually? I suppose if Notes stays committed to Substack’s goal of being a place for quality writing, meaning they’ll avoid adding all the features that have made Twitter and Facebook and the rest of the major social media sites so damaging to our psyches, it’ll be fine. I guess. Maybe. Like I said, a healthier alternative to Twitter is generally a good thing.

But does being healthier than Twitter mean actually healthy and good? Twitter (and other social media sites) have business models that incentivize bad behaviors and content. No doubt about that. But even if they reformed their ways to be less toxic, does it really benefit society overall to have everybody jawing away on the internet, scrolling through feeds and threads and all the rest of it, commenting on other people’s posts, and generally spending huge chunks of time online consuming media?

I say this as someone who has spent a huge chunk of her life since her early twenties scrolling through feeds and threads and consuming media. I know the allure. I have found much worthwhile and beneficial content by scrolling through threads. I used to love the old Twitter when it was mostly me following a bunch of old movie fans and critics who wrote about arts and culture, and I learned a lot and met cool people.

But I can’t help feeling like we’re still trading away our attention and our time to activities that are not as enriching or as sustaining as other things. I’ve long been a fan of blogs, and I’m a fan of newsletters now, because these are usually longer and more sustained forms of communication. They’re more like reading the newspaper or a magazine. There might be a conversation in the comments section, and that’s great. But the comments are always there, at the bottom of the post, waiting to be discovered by any reader at any time now or in the future, and I can choose to engage with those comments or not based on my own time and attention. Both the blog post and the comments are in a fixed place within the internet ecosystem. They are there for me to discover weeks, months, or even years from now.

But social media sites — even better ones like Substack’s Notes — are still social media sites. They still operate on a FOMO (Fear of Missing Out) basis. The conversation is on-going, and if you don’t keep up with it everyday, and devote lots of time to scrolling and commenting (or maybe just lurking), then you will miss out on… well, on something. We all celebrate the “conversations” that happen on these sites, but a conversation happens in real-time; it’s a temporal experience.

(Yes, okay, I can always go back and read an old Twitter thread or whatever. I understand that. But to really optimize what Twitter, and now Notes, is all about, you need to join the conversation as it’s happening, not months from now. A comments section on a blog or newsletter is similar, but a good comments section becomes a text unto itself, and I can read through one without feeling a need to comment or participate. And also, due to the more permanent nature of newsletters and blogs, we understand that the conversation that might stretch for days, and even if I write a comment months later, someone might still read it because those posts are waiting in the archives for anyone to read at anytime. Social media sites, on the other hand, move too quickly, and they are meant to be interacted with on the daily, so going back to an old Twitter thread and leaving a reply is pretty pointless. No one’s going to see it. You might say no one’s going to see a comment on a year-old blog post, and perhaps in most cases that’s true, but I can tell you that many, MANY times I have stumbled upon someone’s blog from years ago, and I’ve read those comments, and many of them have been helpful. That really never happens with a social media site unless I already know the post and the thread I’m looking for.)

Anyway, I don’t want to be too Debbie Downer about Substack’s Notes platform, but I’m not ready to race over and give it my time and attention. It’s the new, flashy thing on the block and everyone appreciates Substack’s subscription-based business model, so we’re all eager to support this Notes thing too.

(And for the record, I think the subscription model is great, though I’m not sure how sustainable Substack’s version of it is in the long run, because there are many newsletters I read for free only because I can’t afford to pay $35 to $50 per year for twenty different newsletters. If Substack would let us lower the subscription fee to $5 per year for our newsletters, I’d probably become a paid subscriber to nearly all the free newsletters I get now. But with a yearly subscription being at minimum $30, it’s just impossible for me to give money to all the writers whose work I enjoy.)

But I avoid social media sites precisely because they are time-sucks for me. They’re the reading equivalent of sugar — tasty and fun, but not very filling — and when time and attention are limited, I don’t want to consume these empty calories. I want something substantial. There are times when a post and thread on Reddit are really great reading with useful information (these are usually the RPG/OSR posts, because people are there to share ideas), and there are times when someone on Twitter (and now Notes) will post a link to a great article. But you know what? I can post links to articles here on my blog too. And so can everyone else. We don’t need a social media app to share links to cool articles. So if Notes is just about sharing links, then why don’t we share links in our newsletters? I mean, many of us already do this!

I don’t see the benefit to Notes (for me personally), other than it’s a “nicer,” “safer” social media space. Again, that’s good, as far as it goes, but it’s not something I really need in my life. I know as a writer and indie publisher, I’m shooting myself in the foot AGAIN by not jumping on the discoverability/marketing bandwagon of social media, but I just can’t bring myself to spend my time doing something that leaves me so unsatisfied. I don’t begrudge anyone using Notes or Substack’s Chat or anything else, but it’s just not for me. I like my blogs and my newsletter and my early 2000s iteration of the internet. And yeah, okay, I like my RPG/OSR subreddits.

But I gotta be picky when it comes to my time and attention. The older I get, the more precious these things become. And Substack’s new features don’t interest me. I’m cool with writing and reading newsletters, and I don’t feel much need to join in the latest “thing.” Especially when that thing takes my attention away from the other things I already like.

I guess I did feel a need to get this rant off my chest, though. Sorry about that!

Am I Still Curious?

Austin Kleon’s newsletter a week ago had an item about curiosity, and I started to wonder if maybe I’m becoming less curious as I grow older. Part of it grows out of the anxiety of being middle-aged. My life is half over, so I don’t have as much time to wander down wrong paths, and if I explore something new only to find out it wasn’t worth my time, I will have lost that time in pursuit of a dead-end.

Maybe not a dead-end. That feels a bit dramatic. But maybe a detour that has set me off-course?

I suppose this raises the question of what exactly my course is right now. I’m not sure of the answer to that. I do know that where once I would read every article or essay or blog post that caught my fancy, I now tend to delete or pass by those items that don’t already hold a compelling interest for me. My interests are shrinking, basically. I feel like I have to devote my attention only to “those things” (whatever they might be) that are “worth” my time. Worth it, I guess, in the sense that they’ll help me write fantasy stories, or they’ll help me raise my children, or they’ll help me be a better person. And if something doesn’t fit into those paradigms, then I’m likely to skip it.

Not very curious of me, I know.

I suppose this all goes back to the attention economy stuff, and where we choose to focus our attention. I worry that if I focus my attention on the “wrong” stuff, then I’ll end up missing out on the worthy stuff.

But curiosity shouldn’t be so limited, right? How am I to know the wrong stuff from the worthy stuff if I don’t explore? What am I missing out on as a result of this cautious approach to my own attention?

Maybe nothing. Maybe it’s good that I guard my attention. After all, I don’t want my time to be taken up by empty-calorie ephemera or stuff that I ultimately find boring. I want the remaining years of my life to be fruitful and full. But, I also can feel myself calcifying a bit when I turn away from something new that doesn’t fit into the existing paradigm of what I’m already interested in.

I can’t describe it, but in the last couple of years, I can feel my mind closing itself off from the unfamiliar. I’m becoming more and more a creature of habit, and while these habits have made my life more ordered and sustainable, they also have the unintended effect of blocking out the unexpected. I’m getting too used to staying in my lane. I have my interests, and anything that’s not part of those interests gets shunted to the side.

Maybe this is unavoidable. Again, we only have a finite amount of time on earth. At some point, I have to discern what is worth my time and what isn’t.

But I don’t want to become someone so closed off in her elder years that she can’t see beyond the limited scope of her familiar interests and ideas. If I’m going to continue writing into my old age, I need to cultivate curiosity and growth. I can’t let my mind calcify and harden because if I do, I’ll be squeezing out my own creativity and imagination.

Being open and curious will take an act of will. I have to consciously practice it, otherwise the default will be to harden and close myself off from the unfamiliar or seemingly “uninteresting.” I’m not sure how to find a balance between cultivating my own curiosity while also using discretion when it comes to where I focus my attention. Maybe the balance means keeping these two ideas in tension with each other. Maybe there is no “solution” as such, just a continual effort to be both curious and discerning.

Works in Progress April 2023

Since finishing both Avalon Summer and Gates to Illvelion, I haven’t been idle, though I do wish I was further along with my draft of the second Merlin book. I’ve written a few short stories that I’ve been sending out to different magazines, but so far, no luck.

And I’ve started drafting another novel, Norse City Limits, a story which I’ve had rolling around in my brain for almost ten years.

When I was in college, I took a class called “Icelandic Sagas,” and we read a whole bunch of them: Njal’s Saga, the Volsunga Saga, Grettir’s Saga, and a host of shorter sagas.

I always thought the style of the saga writers reminded me of the way screenwriters write screenplays: terse description, a focus on dialogue and action, and a point of view that resembles the “camera-eye-view” we get in a script. There’s no room for inner monologue; the thoughts and feelings of the characters are expressed in conversation and action. To my mind, these sagas worked a lot like the old film noir/hard-boiled movies from Hollywood’s Golden Age: fate and bad luck often played a huge role, society was controlled by a few rich and powerful networks that often manipulated the system to maintain power, and down-on-their-luck individuals had to find a way to survive in a hostile environment that answered only to money or force.

So Norse City Limits is my idea for melding Icelandic sagas with film noir. I know mixing hard-boiled fiction with fantasy stuff isn’t anything new (it’s Jim Butcher’s Dresden Files or Kevin Hearne’s Iron Druid, right?), but I really love film noir and I really love the Icelandic sagas and the Norse legends and mythology that they’re infused with, so I wanted to write my own version of this urban fantasy staple.

For Norse City Limits, my main character is not going to be a detective, but instead a “regular Joe” who is down on his luck and trapped in a bad situation. Much more of an Out of the Past situation than a Big Sleep one.

I’m hoping that Norse City, the fictional island metropolis that is cut off from the rest of the world, will serve as a setting for other books inspired by the sagas. Norse City Limits book 1 is partially based on Grettir’s Saga, but it’s not a retelling of that story. It’s more of a jumping-off point for an original tale of my own invention.

I’m not a very fast writer — partly because I need a lot of time for thinking and exploring, and what often looks like procrastinating is really my way of letting my brain ruminate on things — but, despite the way my brain works, I’m trying to write 2500 words per day (with Saturdays a little bit less, and no writing on Sundays). I know I have to work up to that amount, a bit like a runner working up to a 5k or a marathon, but I figure 2500 per day isn’t too high of a goal for now.

I Don’t Want to Be Social

My micro.blog experiment failed. I thought I could post using the free version, but it turns out my ability to post several things the past two days was some kind of glitch because when I tried to post today, it said I had to upgrade to the paid version.

I don’t begrudge the micro.blog folks for needing to make money. I need to make money too. But I also need to save money, and $60 a year might not seem like much, but that’s $60 I can put to use in a more beneficial way.

I don’t really like social media anyway. I like blogs. Blogs are cool. Blogs can be social, for sure, but they’re more about the exchange of ideas. I love to read blogs, and I never comment on anything because I don’t need to. I don’t need or expect anyone to comment on my blog posts either (though everyone is welcome to comment!). I just like reading other people’s ideas on things. Blogs help me do that.

I was using micro.blog as an alternative to Twitter, but really, I don’t need social media. I know this is supposedly “the worst possible thing” for my writing career because social media is where I’m supposed to build my audience. But I just can’t. I don’t like it. It feels like a waste of time. Even if it’s not a waste of time, even if it’s supposed to help me find readers, I just don’t like it. I don’t want to be “social.”

So, I deleted my micro.blog account.

I’ll just take my anti-social self over here and read a book in the corner. No need to @ me.

« Older posts Newer posts »

© 2024 Jennifer M. Baldwin

Theme by Anders NorenUp ↑