I admit it. Recently, I have hit the failure button a lot. It would be easy to blame my shortcomings on external events and bad luck. But I firmly believe if my goal is important enough, nothing will stand my way. While I can meet my minimum daily word count goal, I struggle to reach my stretch goals and push my writing to the next level. Since I aim to increase my daily productivity, I need to increase the days I hit the stretch goal.

The definition of a daily target implies that it should be, well, daily. Time to conduct a study, collect data, crunch numbers, and run them through the analysis machine. I discovered a pattern for the days I attained the stretch goal. The prior evening, I planned. Don’t worry kids, not a single outline was harmed (or created) in this process. I place extreme importance and value on the ability to fly by the seat of my pants.

Instead, I set the stage. Each session was different, but each bore similar themes. I prepared the tableau for the next day’s writing session. Think about throwing a party. You decide what you want to serve, go shopping, hang decorations, and make a few dishes in advance. On the day of the party, you cook. I have a new tactic. Each evening, I set the party, so the next day, I only need to write. We’ll see how it goes.

What takeaways have you learned from your failures?

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

There are weeks I live solely for the weekend, and this past week was no exception. I expected two days devoted to indulging my one true love—writing with my primary commitment to creating a working plot and interviewing my characters. But Saturday’s unexpected indoor water park fiasco derailed the full day’s schedule. A short-lived leak requires massive effort to fix the basement. Now all my eggs rest in a hopeful Sunday basket.

The crucial question open for discussion over my morning coffee is whether the prudent action is to filter through the remains downstairs and put everything back together again or to continue as planned and keep my writing appointment. The list of Pros and Cons grows in my mind. Neither outweighs the other by a significant margin until I realize it’s not an either-or proposition. Pomodoro to the rescue.

The clean-up project does not require my complete concentration, and the writing sessions proceed more effectively when we take frequent breaks during our intensive interviews. My optimum timeframe works out to be fifty-two minutes, followed by a fifteen-minute recess. Reworking the basement should benefit from a more generous twenty to thirty-minute stint. But it will also allow me the time necessary to think of solutions for any problems in the character examinations.

The entire scenario is not ideal, but sometimes we must create ways to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat. This Sunday, the prospect of Monday morning anxiety and regret over a shortened weekend schedule will arrive far too soon.

Do you look forward to Sundays or dread Monday’s return?

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

This week overflowed with hustle, bustle, and problems to solve. I attended intense meetings, navigated personal dynamics, and invested early mornings coupled with late-night work sessions to move a large project toward the finish line. I climbed the exhaustion mountain, and I earned the tee shirt to prove it. While I enjoy meeting and interacting with others, it is a huge mental drain. I make small compromises, bowing to the group consensus, and read individual emotions to ensure everyone is happy and having a good time.

I long for the opportunity to follow my heart, with no need to consult anyone. Being alone is a precious joy. Would I care for another cup of coffee? Why, yes. Thank me. Calmness washes over me. My shoulders relax, tense muscles unclench, and I can breathe. A warm blanket, my current book, and silence helps me find a comfortable position in my favorite chair.

The freedom to do or not do as I see fit allows me to hear my inner thoughts. I think about my interactions, contemplate conversations, and take notes of new ideas, record things I don’t want to forget, and remind myself of further questions I wish to clarify. I realign the pieces that complete me.

How do you refuel?

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

Lately, external forces conspire to manage my life. Other people’s agendas supersede my plans, snarled traffic, and miss communications slow my progress. Malfunctioning appliances waste precious time, and projects budgeted for five or ten minutes end up consuming my entire day. I wonder if I am fighting a losing battle. I seem to confront a brick wall, no matter which way I turn. I could continue to bang my head against that dense and immovable obstacle, or I can search for the key that will allow me to break free.

Walking amid chaos is stressful, but trying to resolve what we cannot control often makes matters worse. As difficult as it might be, sometimes the best course of action is to circumvent our thought patterns and accept the current circumstance, then let it go. Giving up doesn’t mean we like, condone, or approve of the situation – it just means we realize there is no workable method for changing things today. Instead of engaging in losing battles, we may discover the better part of valor is in moving side, managing our perceptions, adjusting our outlook, and employing our sense of adventure.

Each morning a new day dawns with opportunities and choices. I opt to seek a fresh start and hope for a breakthrough. I place my faith in my ability to preserve. I concentrate on deliberate actions and creative ways to move me toward my goal.

How do you take back your time?

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

There are a handful of activities I avoid because I lack talent. I have no sports skills. My face catches every baseball while my hands act as inefficient shields. Dribbling a basketball devolves when the ball bounces off my shoe and bent in half, I stumble-run, chasing the careening orb across the floor. Let’s not discuss my ineptitude in soccer, volleyball, or any sport that requires me to run. I don’t sing least I set the neighborhood dogs to howling like wolves, and I don’t write poetry.

The poems I love, I often memorize. It is a lengthy list including “Patterns,” by Amy Lowell, “The Raven,” by Edgar Allan Poe, and “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening,” by Robert Frost. William Blake’s “The Tyger” is another one I adore and let’s not forget, “Friends, Romans, Countrymen,” Marc Anthony’s monologue from Julius Caesar. There are countless works by Emily Dickinson that can leap into conversation almost unbidden. I can recite a Shakespeare sonnet, and when Patrick Stewart began reading them on social media, I couldn’t stop watching. Ok, I’m a geek. “Sea Canes” by Derek Walcott is another favorite, and his epic poem “Omeros” holds a special place in my heart, though I doubt my ability to commit it to memory.

The poems I memorize, I choose with great care because I know they will live with me forever. I seek work that connects me with the poet, and poems where I feel the emotions they must have felt as they wrote. I enjoy rich imagery, and subtle shades of meaning, which beacons my soul to return time and time, again.

When I sit to compose, I try to clear my mind and allow my passions to embed themselves in the words, and embrace each phrase. It only happens when my heart takes the lead with my writing, not my head. Knowing what I intend to write dampens the message.

Do you write with your feelings?

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer