Limit the day-to-day

I am the guiltiest of guilty when it comes to this. I have, and have been consistently for most of my life, overencumbered by things that I have accepted upon myself to do.

Quite often without the commensurate income that I should expect with those heapings of responsibilities.

Even now, as I wade through employment, a stack of creative projects (my own), the consultations on others’ or co-owned creative projects, the daily, systematic routines I attempt to adhere to (mostly in vain), and the dozen or so long-ranging goals I’ve set for myself, I think:

WTF.

But is it fun?

Is something being fun enough reason to do it? Is it a hobby? Is it something you can enjoy filling your time with?

Does it matter if it has no commercial practicality? Especially if, like many, you spend most of the day chasing financial stability.

It’s good to have something you can enjoy and spend free time on.

Without paying attention, I’ve made it to two months of daily posting. It’s a small milestone, but meaningful.

There’s a purpose for daily posting. Several, in all likelihood. For me, at least.

The first is, and probably the most important: getting into the routine is the biggest part of the battle.

Second, and nearly as important — if I post daily, even if one here and there really sucks eggs, there are so many more coming out consistently that they get lost to history.

Can you go back and look? Certainly. Will you?

Unclear.

Third, and probably the practical reason — this trains me to observe. If I am actively observing, I have things to write about.

If I walk through the day passive, then… I get nothing on the page.

Maybe it is

Is this story good enough to read? Is this manual helpful enough? Will this blog post not waste somebody’s time?

I think these are the questions that stall us.

But they are often the ones we should give much less time to.

And focus on the doing.

Worth it?

There are many ways to write something — not just in a mechanical sense, but in a methodological one.

When you write from a viewpoint, you alter your perception to accommodate it.

When we write fiction, we think in terms of structure. It’s storytelling.

That’s not to say nonfiction isn’t — though sometimes it isn’t.

What we write impacts, to a degree, how we write it.

But that isn’t the holdup with writing, I think.

No one really worries, again, I believe, about how they should write something. The question they ask themselves is: is this worth writing?

A tyranny of now

Things need doing. This is as true now as it’s ever been.

Everyone wants an immediate response. Everyone feels that their query is the most important thing.

For them, that might be true. Maybe for some, it actually is true.

But in all likelihood, that email that just came in – probably not up there. No matter what they want you to believe.

Simple times

If I’m honest, I sometimes long for a simpler time. I love – looovvveee – the conveniences of the modern world. Online shopping? Yes please. International flights? You betcha! AI? Bring it on.

But, there had to be an unrivaled enjoyment to a day of labor in the sun; a family dinner; a book read by candlelight.

I understand that maybe not everyone would have the privilege. But, there are certain dreams each of us have that maybe not everyone understands.

On movies I can’t write about

It’s that time of year again, where I volunteer some of my time to a film festival or two. I’m once again screening features for deliberation, and, per the instructions, I don’t get to share about those that I watch.

Now, I will be seeing movies, somewhere between 5-10 a week, for the next few months. But I don’t get to talk about them.

Which left me thinking about, what are some common things that I see in film festival submissions?

Here’s one thing, that’s universal about indie film making. It is, without hyperbole, easier now to make a film than at any point in history before. The barrier to entry is nearly nonexistent.

Now while that may mean quality varies widely, it is still an amazing time to be a filmmaker.

1-3-5

I’ve started (again) trying to handle less, while simultaneously finishing more. one big thing, three medium things, and five little things daily.

My big things the past few days have been dealing with tasks that should have been dealt with weeks ago, if not months…

The medium things are things that are pressing, but have only recently come in. The five little things are quite easy and manageable.

The trick is to not do the five little tasks, and maybe add more, rather than doing the large one.

Good idea, bad idea

It’s okay to have bad ideas. I wish I could say that no idea is a bad one. But that’s just not true. A number of ideas are absolutely terrible.

And that’s okay. That’s what we have to learn.

In the pursuit of making something meaningful, you might come up with a thousand ideas that are complete trash.

In the ideating stage, just thinking up something should be fun. Otherwise, you could discouraged.

Don’t think about whether it’s possible to pull off, or whether it will make money.

I took a course on innovation – a long time ago. And one of the first activities was to come up with ten non-traditional uses for a paperclip.

Didn’t have to be good. Didn’t have to be practical. Just ten uses that weren’t clipping paper.

Getting your brain to shift gears allows you to think of things that might change the world.

Shared Language

Partly I’m still thinking of Hadestown. Partly, I read a passage from Mark Twain’s On Writing and Publishing, and I’ve been thinking of language.

Here: “There had been no death before the case of Cornelius Lean which had arisen and terminated in death since the special rules had been drawn up.”

I know every single one of those words. I understand their meaning. In their totality, though, it’s as if I’m staring at a blank wall.

Now Twain,I think, felt the same way. He had read that in a morning paper, and went on to say, “By the context I know what it means, but you are without that light and will be sure to get out of it a meaning which the writer of it was not intending to convey.”

Nope, Mark, I got no meaning out of it at all. My only guess is that a century ago, the meaning would have been much less obtuse.

And I was thinking that, as language changes, how much of a writer’s meaning do we lose?

There can be modern translations, sure, but then we also find ourselves at the mercy of the translator. Not that we should need English translated, mind you, but give Shakespeare a cold reading, and if your not familiar with the poetry, you’ll be probably end up lost.