Crazed Life

There is so much so much so much, that I just haven't known where to start or what to write, or even when to find the time to write. . . This plan of mine to start doing more magazine writing again has just, well, exploded. And that is good (money, enjoyment, feelings of self-esteem) and bad (what is up with this whole WORK thing??)

And -- in no surprise to anyone who has ever listened to somebody talk about their shrink -- being psyched about all these fun jobs come coupled with moments of ridiculous panic.

1) I handed in my dolphin article to Discover and am convinced it was the worst, loosest, least technical article I have ever put together ever and ditto that the editor has ever seen ever. And they will never contact me again or let me write for them again.

2) I spent this past weekend in Banff at a physics conference and in between the moments of really enjoying myself (all conferences should be at ski resorts, clearly) and reveling in the science and getting to talk to all these scientists. . . was the absolute humbling horror that perhaps I just didn't understand a single thing. (It didn't really help that the physicists could also completely out-ski me.)

3) I decided to apply to a mid-career fellowship in Boston for next year, since I've been riding this high enjoying my work, getting good jobs, etc. And then on the flight home from Canada today I realized it's actually going to be hard for me to put together the number of clips they want from the last 24 months, since I spent 18 of those months working on the Einstein book and the Kepler/Brahe book. Plummeting ensued.

4) And then come questions like -- so with all this work when am I going to fit in fiction writing?

Japan. . .

I am in Japan, which is why I haven't written anything in here this week. . . I have been writing all SORTS of stuff for my Japan travel weblog, but um, it turns out I am having catastrophic computer and internet failures, so will have to upload it en masse when I get home Wednesday. So stay tuned for tales of sushi, hot baths and $6.50/mile taxis!

Cleaning House

Happy New Year to you all! I have been offline for awhile -- not because things have been going badly, but because things have been going well. The writing is flowing and there's just been TONS to do . . .

I think partially this is because I actually cleaned up my house. It makes all the difference I tell you. A friend of mine who is a writing professor, and therefore instills me with the sense that he knows everything in the world about writing -- even though I know that he struggles with all the same B.S. I do -- recently saw my office. My office was crammed to overflowing with all the boxes, clothes-to-give-away, artwork, cookbooks, presents, and other detritus from the other rooms in the house that there was just enough room to walk to the computer desk, if you're willing to step on a lot of paper to do so. John took one look and said: "Do you write in here?"

Honestly, I don't even know if he meant it the way I heard it -- which was of course "How can you possibly write in this pigsty?" For all I know, he really meant "Lucky you, you get a whole extra room to write in, when I only live in a studio." But I don't think so.

I said: "Um, yeah, usually it's neater." Which is, of course, a total lie. But clearly the time had come to feng shui that place up.

It's much nicer now. . . and lo! I can write!

Laziness Gets You Everywhere

It is amazing to me how often the whole zen, release-yourself-from-the-outcomes, just-stop-worrying-about-it attitude, well, works. After I told myself I needed a bit of a break from tracking down more magazine work, I was able to cross off a whole host of things from my to do list that had just been weighing me down.

One of these was a serious thorn in my side -- I pitched the story six weeks ago, I was going to send a follow up e-mail about two weeks later, and Christy told me I should just call. "Call Burk" has been on my to do list for literally four weeks, and every day I tell myself it's not such a big deal, just pick up the phone and call this guy (whom I have never met, who is busy, who clearly must not have liked my story or he would have called back, who won't recognize my name when I call, who clearly hates me).

I have not called. Christy keeps telling me I should. I tell myself I should. I haven't.

Yesterday, with the magic stroke of a the mouse, it was off my to do list. Gone! Done! Who cares if I get that story or not? I have other things to pay attention to!

It was a major load off my shoulders.

. . . and I got home this afternoon and he had called. He apologized for taking so long to get back to me. He wants the story.

This is so exciting I can't STAND it. It's my first article for a magazine that I would love love love to write for.

Um, but I'm just not sure what the moral should be here. Give up and good things will come to you? Laziness rules? Succomb to your fear and you will succeed? I mean really.

Letting Myself Off the Hook

After I realized that I was just doing too much. . . It's like everything, simply, poof! got magically better. I'm not really doing any less, but by telling myself my job was to focus on just one or two things -- the Kepler book, the new non-fiction book, and the things on my plate for which I already have deadlines and so must accomplish -- somehow my brain managed to relax. I got more done on those projects than I had before. . . and somehow I still found some time to do the extra stuff too.

Basically, the only thing I could legitimately take OFF my agenda was the drive to get lots of magazine stories. I have a few outstanding stories, so I had no intention of jettisoning magazine writing completely -- but my to do list was chock full of "investigate this magazine" and "find contact at that magazine" and "pitch over there" and and and. . .

But by letting myself off that one thing -- i.e. getting myself MORE work -- it's like I can breathe more freely and concentrate on all that I already have to do. So, work is flowing a bit more again. . . yay!

Focus

It is a Monday morning -- which means that it is just after my writing group meeting, which today really meant Christy and I discussed how much we haven't been doing and tried to get excited about doing more despite the upcoming holidays which zap motivation with all their tryptophane.

What I realized as I came to meet her this morning (with my little to do list that I had only scratched barely at) is that there is JUST TOO MUCH TO DO. I have spread myself way too thin. I am trying to get more magazine articles; I have given my heart over to this novel; I would like to finish the non-fiction book proposal I've been working on for, um, years; I have promised the Melton Foundation that I would pull together an alumni magazine for them; I am trying to market the Einstein A to Z book and I am under the impression that I should, like, have a social life too.

I have gotten scattershot with what I am attempting to do. I need to bring down my projects substantially -- focus on just a few things. Of course, I realize even as I write this that I can't limit myself quite as much as I would like. I have articles that I have promised people I would write, and all the things on my list are important. But there are at least a few things I can do. I don't need to reinvent myself as the biggest bestest magazine writer right now. I have been making that too much of a priority -- and it's ok to focus on the stuff that really has my heart, i.e. the books. I still need to finish the articles that I haven't written (and ooh boy, all the checks from everything I've written in the last two months came in this week, and isn't that NICE!) but I don't need to see that as my main raison d'etre.

And, I'm sorry, but the social life. . . I actually work well at night -- why not claim a few nights a week just to write??

Productive Day

Today was my first whole day all to myself since I've been home from India, so it was my first chance to really get organized and try to get on top of actual work. I have two pieces to write for Argonne National Labs that they wanted by the "end of September" (Can you say "first week in October??") so I really hit them hard today. Got the first draft of one completely finished, and will work on the second one tomorrow. Since I have written for them before -- and even written on the same subjects for them before -- this is nice, non-stressful work where I know the style and the information and it's just a question of DOING it.

I still have a quote to get for the Ride article on personal watercraft, and that's also due basically this week, so I will get on that tomorrow as well.

Home Again

I am back home, sitting at Tryst, with all the motivation and excitement that the fall brings. I swear the ingrained patterns of starting school every September still leave me in such a state of organization and determination.

Of course, I have been home exactly two days, am coming home to a novel that was totally stalled when I left, an article for Ride to edit asap, two technological writing pieces to do for Argonne National Labs, an overflowing e-mail inbox, and a whole host of other things to follow up on. We'll see how long this so-called organization lasts.

That having been said, it's the novel that's hanging over my head the most. Having taken a six-week break, it's time to get a move-on. Especially when I was feeling fairly blocked six weeks ago. I need all the cliched writing tricks to get me going. Do some exercises. Force myself just to sit down at the computer. Set a timer and promise myself I'll work for a solid hour before turning on my e-mail. I have pulled out my copy of Writing Down the Bones, and am looking at some exercises to get my juices flowing. Am being reminded about powerful verbs, bad first drafts, scrawling across a large notebook without lifting your pen. . . but most of all I am thankful for a sentence she has in her introduction: "Every time we begin, we wonder how we ever did it before."

How have I managed to do it before??

E-mail, Take Two

. . . And what's up with those people who don't HAVE easily accessible e-mail addresses that I can search for and find on the web? Who are these people who are making me CALL them??? Mean, mean, mean.

E-mail vs. the Phone

Here's another thing I learned at the workshop last week: it's ok to e-mail your sources for interviews. I am behind the curve on this one -- always thinking that e-mail is perhaps the way to first touch base with someone, as well as a method for follow up questions, but it's not a real interview unless you actually have a phone conversation.

Now obviously for big interviews and big stories you need a phone conversation or even an in-person interview. . . but it was so nice to be told -- from some NYT reporters no less -- that they totally trust to e-mail if and when they can.

I kind of knew that my friends who write for women's magazines rely excessively on e-mail. This took me by surprise the first time I answered an e-mail query to be interviewed for a Glamour article and then realized that this wasn't just a pre-amble "do you have a story good enough for me" set of questions, but the whole shebang. I went straight from e-mail to Glamour e-mail fact-check.

Anyway, I wrote in big letters across my notebook: "Give yourself permission to do e-mail interviews!" And I was nothing but excited when I sent off a handful of e-mail questions to a few people on Friday regarding an article I'm writing for Ride magazine on how tourist revenue has increased at parks where they've lifted bans on jetskis. (I am interested, btw, in any and all other story suggestions about jetskis -- sorry, on personal watercraft -- that anyone might have. I'm truly desperate for a SCIENCE story on the subject. . . you know something where the researcher could get closer to the dolphins/coral reef/underwater volcano/sunken treasure because they were using jetskis. . . )

OK, but here's the problem -- apparently nobody else is on board with my whole e-mail interview plan. I have gotten no replies from these people. Do they not understand? Are they really going to make me CALL them?

I announce to the world: I have given myself permission to do e-mail interviews, now you have permission too. E-mail me back already!

Pitching Stories Update

And last news for the day. . . as far as magazine writing goes. . . which I am of course trying to be better about doing:

1) I have promised one editor (with whom I had lunch ten days ago) a paragraph pitch which I have half written, and need to get done asap. Hmm, I'll give myself a deadline of tomorrow.

2) I heard today from a magazine to which I sent my CV and clips a few weeks ago that they would like to assign me a story (on how opening parks up to personal water craft -- read jetskis -- has helped tourist revenue), so that's fun. I am pretending that this is like travel writing. :-)

3) I also am setting myself a deadline for contacting zoogoer magazine -- just to say hey ho and can we meet to discuss what your needs are -- of tomorrow.

4) I also need to investigate a little more on a story I want to pitch to Discover.

More Magazine Contacts

I'm on a tear. Having written that one e-mail to the editor in California, I have gotten my act together to make more contacts. The embarrassing thing here is that these "contacts" are, like, my friends. I mean, it's inexcusable that I haven't mentioned to them before now that I want to write for them.

Of course, one reason I have motivated to do all of this is because it was one of my homework assignments from the last writing group meeting -- so that's a material bonus of this new writing group right there.

So, the editor in California on the big, new physics magazine wrote back. He was very nice and said he knew who I was and that he was hoping to have a budget for freelancers set up in the next few months -- he couldn't hire on outside help at the moment but I should write back in a bit. Good, positive feedback, even though not any immediate writing assignments.

But THEN, I also followed up on a note that was mailed out to a listserv I'm on about a need for writers for a watercraft magazine. The note was to a general DC audience, but it happened to have been sent by a friend. It also had the words "Freelancers willing to ride personal watercraft for assignments are especially desirable." Am I willing to be paid to go out on the water? Um, YES. So I sent her some clips and my CV, and she made it sound like we'd be a good match, so that's exciting. It's also a bit of a start on every freelancer's dream to become a travel writer.

Next, I have had in the back of my mind that I need to contact another friend who just got a job as an editor at a fairly big magazine. But these things are kind of delicate and I didn't just want to say -- "Hmm, haven't seen you in a couple months, but hey can we talk about what you can do for ME?" Anyway, we were e-mailing today and of her own accord she asked if I wanted to do some writing for them. Whoo hoo! We're having lunch the first week in June to discuss.

So, all in all, I'm feeling good about my prospects at getting back into magazine writing after my 2 years of just focusing on books. . .

Checking Things Off the To Do List

I know this is SUCH old news. . . but why is it so hard to check off some of the most basic stuff off one's to do list? You put it down there at a moment of total organization and motivation. This, these things, that bullet point, THAT'S what I'll get done this week.

And then it just sort of sits there, getting transferred from one list to the next, gathering metaphorical dust. . .

. . . until one day you just DO it. And you can't figure out why the hell it took you so long to get around to it, since it was so damn easy.

Case in point: Last week I cleaned up my balcony and planted flowers in the 17,542 pots that I had lying around from the last time I bothered to plant flowers three years ago before a sub-tenant killed them all and I decided it wasn't worth it. My balcony is now so gorgeous that I have to run out there almost every two seconds to see just how many femtometers the morning glories have grown since I last checked. And -- including the time it took me to go to the plant store -- the whole shebang took me three hours. Absurd that I put it off for so long.

More to the WRITING point: I have been meaning to send a note to an editor in California for three months. I wanted to strike while the iron was hot, back in February after I had just met his supervisor -- but not him, since he was out of town -- and gotten the low-down on the brand new physics magazine they are putting together. It's a magazine with heady goals, as they're trying to make a really glossy, interesting, culturally-relevant magazine out of high-energy physics. From what little I know of the people involved, and the amount of support and enthusiasm behind the project, I think they've got a decent shot. And BOY do I want to write for them.

And yet, that "send e-mail introduction" to the editor has sat on my to do list for months. It's embarrassing really.

So, I just motivated to do it. A quick e-mail introduction, a quick edit of my current CV to make sure it was appropriate -- and boom, it's been sent into the ether.

WHY ON EARTH DID IT TAKE ME SO LONG???

Perhaps I just needed the inspiration of my balcony. . . I think I better go check on my morning glories.

Choices, Choices

Argh.

Argh, I say, argh.

Here I am merrily writing away on my Kepler/Brahe book -- this entry coming to you from the 47th floor in an apartment in NYC, by the way, where I came for the week to hide from responsibilities in DC -- and I get an offer to write another book from someone else.

Now, I keep telling myself that the time has come to stick to the big stuff, to go for the really great projects, to say no to the other offers that are merely distracting. In fact, two years ago, I was in a similar position, focusing on the Kepler book and was asked to write a book on Einstein. I told the publisher that I didn't have the time to do it alone, but would do it with a co-author. I convinced myself that I could easily do both books at the same time -- no big deal. Well, that was a lie. I had a lot of fun with the Einstein book, but it certainly put me a year behind in terms of the book I'm working on now -- the book that has my heart and soul and which I've been talking about writing for three years now.

So, here I am, excited about this Kepler book, actually getting some good writing done, and I'm offered the chance to write a short-ish, 25,000 word book on a theoretical physicist. "Think New Yorker article," said the publisher, "back in the day when articles took up half the magazine." Yes, yes, yes. I want to do that. The physicist in question is a big name guy -- someone I would love to spend some quality time with. In addition, it would immerse me back into the world of current science, as opposed to this historical focus I've had lately. That would simultaneously give me insight into the book I'm doing now, which also has a modern component, as well as help launch me back into magazine writing, which has been a goal for awhile.

And I am torn. I can think of all these good reasons to do this profile:

--it would be fascinating
--it would be quick, just a few months
--it would get me connected to modern scientists again
--the physicist in question lives in NYC, so I'd have an excuse to be up here all the time

But, but, but. . . there are these problems. For one, it doesn't pay well. Which I can live with, honestly. Second, it's not with a big name publisher -- which I can also live with, since it's such a wonderful project, and an ideal one for me. But put those two drawbacks together with the third: it's just the wrong TIME. And I think I have to turn it down.

I haven't decided for sure. This morning I had talked myself into doing it. This afternoon I have talked myself out of it. I could waver a few more times before making a concrete decision. . . but. . . argh.

Pilates

As you may have noticed, there's been somewhat of a lapse in my keeping this journal. . . It has something to do with the fact that I, um, got myself an additional part-time job. I have been addicted for the last few years to pilates -- a form of exercise that if you're not careful can bleed your bank account dry faster than you can say "six-pack abs," since it requires having a personal trainer. I decided the only way I could afford to keep doing it was if I became a trainer myself. I would be able to use the equipment for free and suddenly even the clothes I bought to do it were legitimately tax-deductible. Tax-deductible clothes are a very good thing.

So, beginning in October, I took a three-month course -- for which they wanted me to be in the studio, like, 23 whole hours a week. A commitment of that kind from a woman who's had nothing but a perfectly flexible schedule for five years, is a bit dramatic. It took me a few weeks to not feel like my life was completely running away from me, another few weeks to snare myself some free time to maintain my sanity and a few more after that to actually get back to writing again.

I began to think that having a part-time job really sucked.

On the other hand, I was earning money teaching pilates during all of this, so the fact that I wasn't writing wasn't the end of the world financially. Nevertheless, it certainly side-tracked any idea I had of getting that book proposal done tout suite.

Which is ok, actually. I think I'll get to it at some point -- it's a good book idea. But I have another book that I've been talking about writing for about three years now. I've researched it extensively, written an ever-lengthening outline that is now some 30 pages long, and generally lived with it in my head for quite some time.

The problem is . . . it's fiction. It's still based in the history of astronomy, but it's most definitely fiction. There are two problems with fiction. First, it's HARD. Really hard. And really different from writing non-fiction. That's what this online-journal will be about, so you'll hear more on that. Second, unlike non-fiction, you can't sell the book ahead of time. A publisher wants the whole finished thing before deciding to buy it.

And that's where the pilates comes in. I have finally worked it successfully into my schedule so that I am not overwhelmed that I'm spending --ok, only ten -- hours a week working outside the house. It's also a nice extra source of income. All of which means I can afford the time and money right now to focus on this book. After three years of talking about writing this book, I can finally let everything else go, and pay attention solely to it.

Part-time jobs rule.

What It Takes

I am sitting at Tryst, having had a lovely burst of writing energy for the last two hours. I have, I'm afraid, done fairly little work on this book proposal since I set myself the October 3 deadline. The weekend was the weekend -- and I swore when I became a freelancer five years ago that except for in the face of emergency deadlines, I would maintain weekends and evenings as no-work times. Its too easy to let your work creep into every facet of your life when you work at home, and so I'm strict about working during normal business hours. (There is part of me that worries that this is a bit of an excuse . . . but by and large it works for me. I guess partly because it does successfully force me to work during the week days, and not leave work until the last minute, which not every writer I know is good about doing.)

Monday, I hosted a birthday luncheon, so with cooking and eating and cleaning up afterwards that took up the whole day. Tuesday I sat down in front of the computer and managed to do a little editing, and a great deal of online research, but actual writing somehow eluded me -- possibly because I had to teach a pilates class at 7 AM, and again at 1:30, so the day was kind of broken up. In addition, getting up at 6:30 just KILLS me, and I I was vaguely sleepy all day. I've found that the number one necessity for a good writing day is that I'm thoroughly well-rested.

And so, that brings us today. I am out of the house -- another boon to getting writing done -- and the last two hours has seen a solid 1000 words of writing on the "outline" section of my book proposal.

When writing flows you just wish you could bottle the feeling. What is it that sometimes makes it all work? The thing is, I am smart enough to know that it's not all that mysterious. There is this fantasy about writing that sometimes you're just in the mood and sometimes you're not. Sometimes, at 3 AM, or when you have the right amount of bourbon in your system, or when you're suddenly inspired, then that is the time to write, and you can't force it otherwise. But I think that's a fantasy that only those who write occasionally maintain.

Because I know what goes into a good writing day: exactly the things I listed above. Plenty of sleep and no other distractions to be found. About half the time I plan on working outside of my house, I talk myself into not doing so -- perhaps I'm waiting for a phone call, or I don't want to spend the money at a coffee shop, or I'm not in the mood for the 15-minute walk or any other excuse I can come up with. And I believe those excuses when I make them, promising myself that I will work just as much with my butt in that Aeron chair at home. But it's a myth. And I have to remember that.

Sleep and no distractions. That's all it takes. . .

Writing in Public

Somewhere out there in the cosmos, an idea was born that all writers have some innate talent, some creative gene, such that beautiful prose springs naturally from their neurons through their Mont Blanc fountain pen onto the page. Dazzling sentences, beautiful plots, perfect imagery dancing out of a calm mind, without any work at all.

It is the bane of freelancers, this image. We all secretly think that everyone else is more organized, more dedicated, more creative, more something than we are. That the world is filled with journalists and authors who spout their writing effortlessly, and that we, we alone, are perpetrating a sham.

I belong to the National Association of Science Writers, and one of my favorite on-line conversations took place a number of years ago, when everyone admitted that the thought of calling up someone to interview sent them into a panic. We all had rituals and procrastination tools we used to avoid calling someone the first time -- and all of us had assumed we were the only ones who hated this very fundamental part of being a journalist.

As it is, I have worked long and hard at creating the routines that actually keep me in a chair to write or to call an interview. I have had to train myself that the first draft of anything is a disaster, and that no one puts out a perfect piece on the first go-round (with the possible exception of John McPhee, who insists that whole books pop out full-blown from his head to the page -- but I think this belies the fact that he spends years researching and editing the book in his head before he commits it to paper. . . ) And you know what I'm really horrible at? I have all these great ideas and then I don't pitch them. It kills me. I have a great idea, I think I should send it off to someone, I don't, and then invariably the article I wanted to write shows up in the exact magazine I wanted to write it for, but someone else wrote it. It's just unforgivable that I should have had this happen so many times and yet haven't adjusted my behavior.

And so, I've decided to do it all publicly. Perhaps if I keep an honest record of what I'm doing, I will manage both to be a little more together about it, as well as to do some damage to the fiction that all other writers are better at this freelancing stuff than we. I'd like to flatter myself that despite what I see as my own inefficiencies I am a "successful" writer. So perhaps I can convince others, or at least myself, that "successful" writers aren't all paragons of organization.

It's a good time for it. I have just handed in the first draft of a manuscript on a book on Einstein, so I'm in a "beginning" phase. One of those glorious times where you're convinced that for the next project you will be organized, motivated, efficient. It's like the beginning of a school semester -- I have new notebooks and new pens, and am developing all my new routines . . . Of course, when I was at school, such organization lasted me about a week, but perhaps, maybe, possibly, keeping a writer's journal about my routines, might actually help me keep them.