5 things I hate about goals

Hands up who set themselves fabulous New Year’s Resolutions - and promptly broke most of them within a month. And hands up who cringes when the self-help gurus go on (and on and on) about goal setting. Here are five things I hate about goals…

#1. Are you dreaming?

It’s too easy to get mixed up between dreams and goals. My dream is to be a prolific and published author. My goal is to finish my first novel. A goal is something solid. Something you can work towards.

Remember that stuff about it being great to build castles in the air… now you’ve got to put legs under it? The dream is the castle, the goals are the legs. Okay, I’m sure I’ve done something hideous with the metaphor, but you get my point.

#2. For goals, read guilt…

It’s sooo easy to set up lovely long-term goals and all the short-term goals that lead up to them. But those ‘little’ goals usually involve things like meditating, writing 1000 words, then going for a run. Every morning. All before breakfast. Meanwhile, our families will become magically self-managing, and we will sail into the rest of our day feeling calm and unflappable.

Like hell. We’re immediately setting ourselves up for a guilt trip. Because there’s nothing like failing to reach a ridiculous goal (or several) for turning ourselves into self-flagellating wrecks.

The only way to avoid the guilt is to be realistic in our goal setting. “Given my busy lifestyle, what can I realistically achieve?” For me, it’s writing for a couple of hours once a week. If I can achieve that, I can usually slip in one or two more quick sessions.

#3. Life is a rollercoaster

So we’ve had a reality check, and we’ve got some goals that fit into our lifestyle. All good. Then the ‘life is a rollercoaster’ thing kicks in, and we lose our way. And then it becomes almost impossible to get back into it.  

It’s like going on a chocolate cake binge when we’ve promised ourselves we’re going to eat healthy – and lose weight. Or attacking the vino with a little too much enthusiasm on our designated alcohol-free day.

…the next time we even think about that goal, we’re going to go ‘nup, look what happened last time. There’s no point in trying’. Even though there actually is. Because every time you get back into it after you’ve failed, you get stronger – and the gaps between the slips get bigger. Which brings me to…

#4. I hear voices…

The minute you set yourself goals, you start hearing voices. Natalie Goldberg calls those voices ‘the Resistance’. Because the minute you set up your goals – whether it’s writing 4000 words a week or dropping a dress size – ‘the Resistance’ kicks in to sneer at you, oppose every move, ‘encourage you’ to give up.

‘You can’t do it. You’ll just sit at the computer and blog.’ (oh!). ‘You’ll never be able to stick to that exercise plan.’ (hmmm). ‘Yeh, right. You. Not eat fatty stuff. Are you kidding?’ (yeh…where’s the triple chocolate icecream?).

So, as Natalie G says, you’ve got to fool the Resistance. Be a bit sneaky. She recommends daily writing practice (which works a bit like a brain dump). For me, it works to tell myself I’m not going to write my novel at all. I’m just going to write a description of (for example) my character.

I usually find myself slipping into writing a scene that shows my character interacting with another character, and what happens. Which often leads to the first draft of a scene for my novel. But the Resistance didn’t notice me doing it.

#5. Sticking (it) to goals

The thing I hate most about goals is that… aaagh… you have to have them. If you don’t, it’s like setting out on a road trip with no destination in mind. Which might be okay if you travel in a hash-cloud. But for most of us, going nowhere fast feels like we’re letting ourselves down.

That’s not to say there won’t be diversions along the way. And that the destination won’t change. Or that we won’t be open to opportunities. What it does mean is that we’ll be putting legs under those castles in the air. Or whatever.

elle

Managing procrastination

When people hear you are a writer, one of the first things they ask is ‘where do you get your ideas from?’. This has always seemed a completely ridiculous question to me. I even embrace my hatred of it during writing workshops when somebody inevitably asks the question of a visiting author. I smugly think of the asker – Why are you here? If you need to ask the question you are obviously not a writer.  Perhaps I should be more sympathetic.

So who would I extend my sympathy to? The procrastinators of course.

And why? Well that’s pretty obvious. Because procrastination, I get. I mean right now, I’m writing this piece while reading Anne Lamott’s Bird by Bird (as suggested by Elle), and all the while knowing I should be finishing my rewrite because it’s due by the end of next week.

But there it is – a-ha! You might think this is just another post, but really it’s procrastination management in action. Don’t worry, I’ll lay it all out for you because the mind of the procrastinator is infinitely tricky and convoluted, and often requires explanation.

You see the day started with me knowing what had to be done. So of course I didn’t do that. I dropped the kids at school (that had to be done too). Then I came home and realised I hadn’t actually eaten breakfast. I am not one to skip breakfast (so naturally that had to be done as well). But then sitting in an empty house eating breakfast in silence is a waste of time, so I thought I’d eat in my office, get the computer booted up and, hey, I could even watch some of that latest episode of Battlestar Galactica I downloaded from I-Tunes. Multitasking, I told myself.

Breakfast done, I turned off the visual stimulus. I’m no time waster.

So then I began tidying my desk, in readiness for what had to be done. But that involved moving the book, ‘Bird by Bird’, which I then thought I might begin reading… just to get me in the mood. I read a few pages. Then I flicked through to see exactly how many pages there were in the introduction. Let me tell you, it’s a very long introduction. I continued reading, my finger jammed between the pages at the beginning of chapter one. You see, I had a goal now. I knew when the useful procrastination would stop and my rewriting begin. But it was a really long introduction. My reader brain kept on reading, but my observer brain developed guilt and kept harping on about the reality of this not being useful to the day’s task of rewriting.  

I grabbed a pencil and stuck it between the pages of the book. The introduction could wait. Hey, I thought, I just stopped reading. And before that I stopped watching my favourite tv show. This was good. I was managing my procrastination.

I quickly began to type. On the blank page. About nothing to do with my rewrite.

But let’s not focus on the negative. Because the great thing is that it’s now 10.30am and I still have the whole day ahead of me. I’ve indulged all the little interests around me and I’m actually eager to get into the rewrite.

For some of us, procrastination is just part of the process. And perhaps it too can only be managed, bird by bird. 

I’m chirping about… bird by bird

I’m reading Anne Lamott’s Bird by Bird at the moment. I can’t chirp on about this book enough. I feel like Anne’s been inside my head – and no, I don’t mean she’s found out my head’s full of feathers.

It was first published in the 1990s, but for me it’s like finding the mother-lode. I’ve had this book recommended to me so many times, but never got around to buying it.

But once I started reading it, it was pretty hard to put down. Especially because she tells it like it is, and she tells it funny. And I can never resist funny. So what’s the ‘bird by bird’ thing about? In her words:

“Thirty years ago my older brother, who was ten years old at the time, was trying to get a report on birds written that he’d had three months to write. It was due the next day…. he was at the kitchen table close to tears, surrounded by binder paper and pencils and unopened books on birds, immobilized by the hugeness of the task ahead. Then my father sat down beside him, put his arm around my brother’s shoulder, and said, ‘bird by bird, buddy. Just take it bird by bird.’”

I can’t recommend it highly enough. Especially when it’s filled with encouraging things like this: “…it is fantasy to think that successful writers do not have these bored, defeated hours, these hours of deep insecurity when one feels as small and jumpy as a water bug”.

Because don’t we unpublished writers always think that getting published is the pinnacle – when apparently the second book is even harder? At least with the first one, you can take your time, learn your craft, enjoy the process. There are no expectations, no deadlines.

Then again, I work better to deadline. And those kind of expectations I can live with

Elle

Writing the first draft

Meeting up with other writers is always great. It gets you motivated. Gets you out of the house. And makes you realise that you’re not the only one having troubles with a particular part of the process. 

Yesterday at coffee I heard a great description for writing the first draft. My writer friend likened it to being constipated… for a year. She also did a visual impression of herself on the dunny, squeezing out the dreaded first draft, screaming ‘just get out!’ – but we won’t get into that. 

The thing was, I could relate to that image so well, while others in the group thought she was being a little dramatic. 

Like my constipated friend, I too find rewriting a breeze. I love it. Looking at the structure, remolding, remaking, getting the flow just right. Of course, the non-constipated first drafters thought rewriting was hell. 

For those of us who find the first draft process an ordeal, my message is this: eat a packet of prunes and get the damn thing out. Yes, it’s awful and horrible but it has to get out! (You can drop the imagery now, we’re onto the serious stuff.) Write the horrible, awful sentences that get you through to the end and the thing you like best, rewriting.

It took me 18 months to get my first draft written. At times I was paralysed for weeks on end. Every time I went to my desk I would see the page with the last two sentences I’d written, ‘Finn let me stare for a while without saying anything. Then his hand slowly closed around my arm.’. See, I still remember them! It wasn’t until I stopped judging those two sentences, and fearing how many other bad ones I could produce, that I actually got moving again.

The task ahead of me seemed enormous, but one day I just got sick of doing nothing. I pictured the scene in my head, wrote a few sentences about it (not caring what they were like) and then I went to bed. The next morning, there was a different sentence waiting for me. And as luck would have it, I’d gone over to a new page. Those two awful sentences, the ones that had had completely controlled me for so long, had vanished. I’d broken their hold on me by writing through them. And you know what, the next sentences were no better or worse. The only difference was that I kept on writing, even if it was a single sentence for the day, so that no one sentence could have that power over me again.

Within three weeks I’d finished my draft. And that included days when I wrote only one sentence. 

So for those of you having trouble finishing the first draft, this is the best advice I can give. Wherever you’re stuck, stop, picture the scene in your head, and write about it. It doesn’t matter if it’s only a sentence. It doesn’t matter if it’s crap. Break the hold of whatever it is that’s stopping you, even if it’s one sentence at a time. Because once you do, you have something to work with. 

Sash.

A tough week…

I’ve been back for a week from my scriptwriting course in Melbourne, and it feels like the whole world’s gone mad!

The recession is really hitting close to home, with many of my friends losing their jobs this week…so I’m more concerned about how they’ll get by emotionally and financially, than debriefing about my course!

I guess it brings up all those ‘what if…?’ questions in us  - about getting through the tough times, paying the bills that keep the roof over our heads, putting food in our bellies.

I remember back in the early eighties, trying to find a job. I’d get out of bed at six, race down to the newsagent and buy a paper, sit there scanning and circling jobs, then hit the payphone on the corner and start dialling.

Yes, this was before mobile phones and email – and in a sharehouse, who could afford a landline? (And no, I wasn’t around when dinosaurs walked the Earth!!).

It was like calling a radio station competition when the prize was a million $$. If you actually got through to the number, it was likely they’d already filled their interview quota.

I got ‘lucky’ after a week, got an interview, and got the job. It was harder getting the job than doing it!

Our kids don’t realise how lucky they’ve been over the last fifteen years, so maybe a little hardship will do them good too. They’ll certainly learn that leaving a job (by choice) in this economic climate isn’t a good idea.

Which raises a whole lot of questions about following your dreams. Maybe that’s why so many of our parents, many of whom lived through The Depression, never really had the job-satisfaction-or-die mindset. It was more about food on the table, clothes on your back, enough to scrape by on.

And maybe this recession will help us all get back some balance. Maybe we’ll work out the difference between ‘want’ and ‘need’.  Clive Hamilton talks about this in his book Affluenza - one of my favourite non-fic reads in recent times.

I reckon we’ll be okay. Even if sometimes, a week can seem like a lifetime and you get to Friday feeling like crap…

Elle x