The Rejectionist asked us yesterday how our pre-resolutions are going. I left a brief comment over there, but needed a post today, so here’s the expanded version:
My tires are new, balanced, and actually grip the road—what a peculiar sensation it is not to skid to a stop. As mentioned in a previous post, I spent a little extra to get them done quickly and conveniently, but prefer to view it as spending five years worth of tire money all at once.
I took the kids (and my husband) to see Tangled on Saturday. Everyone liked it, even Janie, who spent about three-fourths of it hiding behind me in case something scary happened. She loved Maximus, though, and the faire dance—which in my opinion was set to the best music of the movie.
It’s a good story with amazing animation—though, as my husband said, if the eyes were any bigger, it would be a Bug’s Life. Regardless, we both thought that the style would be perfect for Terry Pratchett’s Discworld. Especially for Nanny Ogg. I would also swear that the design of the biggest thug was based on Clancy Brown’s Kurgan from Highlander—a movie dear to my heart and an actor dearer. I may have to go back and see both movies again to be sure . . .
The only part of this resolution I missed was the popcorn part—the kids turned me down, because they were full of shoestring French fries from the restaurant. I didn’t think that was possible. Afterwards, though, my husband took them for blizzards at the DQ while I collected my newly-shod car and hoped my credit card wouldn’t melt.
I’m pretty much meeting my daily two hour writing goal, though I’ve learned to plug in the tunes and shut off the WiFi. I write before the kids get up, at work before I clock in, on breaks or lunch, and after the kids go to bed. I’m budgeting time, too, if there’s something I want to do with the family.
That almost seems . . . responsible. Weird.
I’m also more aware of free floating minutes that might be used for writing and the consequences of using those minutes for Youtubing or channel flipping. Though sometimes, the consequences are a more relaxed writer with a better handle on what might come next . . . it’s a balance, surprise, surprise.
So my pre-Resolutions are going pretty well. Except for one thing:
My mother’s handknitted-with-love-and-cat hair Christmas socks remain untouched.
Because I still can’t find them.
I’m getting my car’s tires done today! ‘Tis the season and such. Shutting of the WiFi is critical, I find, to meeting the writing goals. Speaking of which… Hey, wishing you continued luck with the pre-resolutions.
Thanks—it’s the knitting that’s worrying me . . . my three-year old lives to pull needles out of things and I haven’t searched her toybox, yet.
Enjoy your new traction!
Well, as they say, every writer needs to be a reader too. Personally, I take it one step further. Effective mass communication is effective mass communication. Anything that gives you ideas for material, or how to present it, or just plain gets you in a creative mood is worth the time. At least, I think so. So as scary as being productive seems, keep it up and don’t worry about those “lost” minutes.
Worrying is something of a professional hobby with me, but I think you’re right.
Sometimes the hamster has to hop off the wheel and veg in front of the tube. If Hustle or Leverage is on, that counts as research, right?
And I do take the occasional bathroom break—and work in a library—so I haven’t lost too much reading time.
Two hours is the sweet spot. We did an event with Guillermo del Toro a few months ago and he told an eagar young screenwriting student ‘write for two hours a day. If someone tells you they wrote all day, they’re lying. They wrote for two hours and the rest was spent on google.’
And YouTube . . . or so I hear . . .