Knowing How To Work

There is a lot of proof that I was a geeky kid, but teaching myself to type on the electronic typewriter my Mom brought home from work really ranks up there. And with this electronic typewriter I tried to live the dream of becoming a novelist by starting a variety of novels. But I never finished any of them, which was fine. I was a kid, for goodness sake.

But as I work on writing the first draft of my first complete book -- I don't have the luxury. I can do that, but then, what's the point of talking around the houses about how much I want to write a book? At some point you just have to bite the bullet and give it a go. 


And I'm glad I at least know how to work these days. After years of toiling away my various jobs, writing draft after draft of everything from articles to research reports to press releases and even emails, my ego is smaller than it used to be and I understand that things rarely -- O.K. almost never -- work the first time around.

I have started my book four times now, using different formats: novel, memoir, roman a clef and a book of essays. Which one I'll settle on is becoming clearer to me (although I'm still afraid to commit publicly yet.) I've ripped up huge amounts of text when I realized it wasn't working. So in total, I've written almost 50,000 words, although only about 17,000 of that appears usable at the moment. I am comforted by the fact that every word and sentence I write seems to teach me something about the long form format -- something I've never really had experience with before.

My Dad recently said to me that one of his goals is "lifelong learning" and that really resonated with me. As horrific as it is to read back something you've written and be able to see how bad it is, it's also a great learning experience to figure out why and then try to fix it.

This is how to work. Something I didn't understand at 10, when I started my career at as a novelist. I hope with everything I know now, perhaps I'll make a bit more progress.

(As a side note: I've also recently been spending time reading up on the world of self-publishing, which has moved on quite a lot from vanity publishing. The pace of technological change has meant that selling and marketing your book(s) is much easier -- although not easy -- now, without the help of a traditional publisher. It's fascinating. If you're interested, check out Joanna Penn's website -- she has a great free ebook on the topic.)
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May I Have A Bit Of Earth, To Make a Garden?

Perhaps my fascination with Frances Hodgson Burnett's The Secret Garden meant that I was always destined to live in England. Because who wants a "yard", when you can have a "garden"? There's something much more magical sounding about the English word for the small patch of green at the front or back of your house.

There's a scene in The Secret Garden where Mary asks her scary uncle if she may "have a bit of earth, to make a garden?" 

It's always kind of stuck with me. And it's the one phrase I can say in an English accent. (I know, 13 years here and what do I have to show for it? I still sound completely American, and I forget it sometimes -- I'm often shocked when people ask me if I live here.)

Now that the Hub and I actually have a bit of earth, to make a garden, I realized that what we lack is a set of green thumbs. I know it's a little late in the season to be turning to gardening, but we were travelling earlier this summer and frankly, I was a little daunted by not being able to figure out what in the garden was a plant and what was a weed. 

But enough was enough. The garden walls were closing in on us with overgrowth and what better way to get outside and have husband-wife bonding time than with arguments over whether or not we really need a stepladder or edging tool? 

You can see here that the ivy is really out of control:


I drafted in the help of a friend who owns a gardening business to come in and give us a gardening lesson. He identified we have about three plants worth saving and then gave us instructions on how to tidy things up and also how to get rid of pesky rowan tree shoots (who knew the rowan was so horrible?). 

When I was a kid I never understood why my parents spent so much time planting things. Trips to the nursery with my mom to select the best impatients were bor-ring! But now I get it. We spend so much time indoors, that the idea of getting outside and digging around in the dirt sounds good and reminds you of early science lessons in how much we need these green plants to survive on this planet. 

Hopefully the Hub and I can work seamlessly together this afternoon in our garden clear up adventures. We were advised just to get everything under control now and worry about new planting in the spring. So like everything in life -- one small bit of earth at a time.
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A Bright Red 10-Speed Bike

I was listening to the Happier podcast the other day, where one of the topics of conversation was:

What did you do for fun when you were 10 years old?

It's a good one. The answer is supposed to tell you what you should be doing now for fun, or even work. Because when you were 10 you were yet to be constrained by society's notion of what you should be doing or by sensible goals like earning money, so you don't starve. (Which still weighs on my mind a bit. Because I don't like being hungry.)

When I was 10 years old I wrote a horror book with some friends. I also still liked playing imaginative games that usually involved pretending to be characters from books. I am still miffed that I always had to be one of the maids while my friend got to be the princess (we were reading a lot of Francis Hodgson Burnett at the time). These games also involved a lot of climbing around on jungle gyms, which were of course, castles.

The age of 10 was also when I received a gift from my parents that became one of my prized possessions: a bright red 10-speed bike. It was a big deal getting a 10-speed, instead of riding around on your purple and white kids' bike doing loops in the driveway.

And I recently discovered it is still around, and now lives in the garage at our family's summer house. When the Hub and I were on vacation there in June we went for a ride around the lake and I just loved it. It was like being 10 again.

Here's our favorite, well-loved Galway Lake:


So when the Hub suggested that we get bikes to ride to our local park, and possibly even further afield at some point, I didn't even try to fight him. You see, I'm not a naturally outdoorsy person. I do love doing things outside, once I get there, but I'm such a homebody that it takes some convincing first. He's actually had to make me agree that every Sunday we will do something outside together, whether it's playing golf, tennis, going for a bike ride, or gardening. He stopped short of making me sign something, but that probably would have been a good idea.

What did you do when you were 10? And does it have any relation to what you do now for fun or work or possibly even hint at a second career?

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Lighter Than A Feather

When I was a kid there was a Sesame Street special that took place at the Metropolitan Museum of Art called Don't Eat the Pictures. In it, Big Bird and Snuffy help an Egyptian boy prince answer a riddle so he can join his parents as stars in the sky. To allow his heart to be lighter than a feather. (Amazingly enough, you can now watch it on You Tube -- here's the link to the episode).

There are some factual inaccuracies in said Sesame Street production. I was pretty pleased with myself that I could spot them after spending 10 days absorbing every bit of information possible about ancient Egypt. But at the time it completely captured my imagination, and ever since I have wanted to go to Egypt. I mean, what kid doesn't like the idea of having his heart weighed against a feather for admittance into the afterlife -- perhaps one who will grow up to like horror films?

Recently, thanks to a slew of T.V. documentaries on Egypt, the flame in my own heart was rekindled to visit this historic place. Why else did I move to Europe, if not the chance to see more of the world? So we booked a 10-day trip to Egypt this past July, including a Nile cruise and then three days in Cairo. Because you also have to see the pyramids, right?

Here we are, standing on the wall of the Great Pyramid: 



But the Nile, let's talk about the Nile. It was truly magical watching the lush green river bank from the deck of the boat, or from our balcony as we floated by.

Sunset on the Nile, from our cabin balcony:



And the temples! Standing in the Hypostyle Hall at Karnak surrounded by massive columns may have made the trip worth it alone. I felt like I was living in a movie almost every day of the trip.

The Hypostyle Hall where scenes from Death on the Nile and The Spy Who Loved me were filmed.



We learned so much on the trip, and met some really interesting people, including our guides and fellow boat passengers. But it was really quiet out there. Egypt's biggest revenue generating industry -- before the 2011 revolution -- was tourism. According to an article in the Guardian from last year, tourism revenues have fallen by 54% since 2010. And you could definitely feel it. We had a guide to ourselves in Cairo. There were only six of us to one guide during our cruise on the Nile. And the boat itself had about 20 passengers -- with 33 suites on board -- so it was nowhere near full capacity.

It was great for us. We often felt like we had historic sites to ourselves and had many opportunities to grill our guides with lots of questions (the Hub is particularly good at this). But it was sad to see the impact on the people there.

Was it safe? It certainly rattled our nerves when a car bomb exploded outside the Italian embassy in Cairo two days before we were due to fly. But my view is that no where is safe. And I don't mean that in a negative sense. It's just that I lived in New York on September 11th and in London for the July 7th bombings. Terrorism can happen anywhere. And I'm not staying at home when there's so much of the world still to see.

It was definitely one of those once-in-a-lifetime experiences and I think there were certain advantages to going at a time when others might not want to venture out. For what it's worth. I'll leave you with a photo of where we ate dinner each night in Cairo. (And if you are interested in a trip, here's the company we used, which we thought was great -- Discover Egypt.)

Just saying:


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The Addictive Lure Of The Inbox

Opening up your email or any type of inbox pinging, including messaging, can be thrilling and addictive. Who wants to talk to me? What good news are they bringing, or even better, what interesting gossip are they willing to share? That's why the most common sight in a public place these days is people with heads down tapping away. Sure, they're reading news or looking at Facebook, but mostly it's all about the instant gratification of someone reaching out to them.

But once the initial thrill is gone, inboxes turn straight into drudgery. There are usually requests to answer, things to do and decisions to be made. And it never, ever ends. How annoying are those people who once you respond send you something right back and now you have to respond again? (In some ways I feel bad if I do respond right away. But then also gleeful that the ball is back in their court. Ha!)

So this may be the most boring post I have ever written, but I hope it is helpful. If you, like me, like hearing how other people wrangle with the admin tasks of modern life, read on. I have wrestled with my messaging strategy and here's what works for me.  

1. I do check email first thing in the morning.
Read any article about productivity and the one big no-no is checking and responding to emails first thing in the morning. The worry is that if you do this, you'll never get to the really important things you need to get done for the day. But I can't get on with my day in a productive fashion if I have all these unanswered requests waiting for me in my inbox. Also, if I know I have work to get on with it makes me zip through my inbox much faster, instead of the more leisurely pace I might take if I do it when I don't have urgent tasks awaiting my attention.

2. I have adopted the so-called 'batch processing' method.
(Sounds thrilling, no?) This means that you go through your inbox and then that's it. You don't check or respond in-between the set times you have for processing emails. Of course with work I have to cheat a bit because urgent requests could come in. So I have Outlook set up with the function where I get a preview of incoming messages in the right-hand corner of my screen. It's easy for me to assess whether something needs to dealt with straight away or can be answered after lunch (the next time I try to tackle my inbox). At the end of the day, I reply to anything absolutely necessary and do a tidy up -- deleting any junk mail that's come in during the afternoon -- before heading home.

3. I treat texts and instant messaging differently. Instantly.
Because these messages are generally shorter, I try to reply straight away even if I'm really busy when I see it come in. I never used to do this -- my chronic procrastination was really chronic -- even when I knew it would take only a few seconds. Now I just do it as a rule because it normally takes so little time and then I don't have to remember later. And yes, sometimes I do get caught up in conversations back and forth, but it never takes up as much time as I think it will. And if I don't know the answer, I reply saying so, and then add whatever I need to figure out to my to-do list. Then I don't have to worry about remembering.


I generally find when I don't have unanswered messages hanging over my head, I can just get on with other things with a clearer less-stressed mind.

Do you have rules for email and messaging? Or is it just not a problem for you?

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