Category: Deep Thoughts

Focus

Too many distractions can make you forget what’s important. At least, they can make you forget what’s really important to you, to the reality of your situation and your life in all its many aspects.

Life goes on despite massive change and uncertainty. We work and play and love and laugh and pay bills and try to make our way. We love our families (most of the time), have friends and coworkers, meet strangers. We survive.

But if we want to do more than survive, if we want to be the best people we can possibly be, then we have to focus.

In today’s modern world, we are constantly called to distraction. Between family, friends, work obligations, advertising, social media, emails, the Internet, politics, finances, sports, television, and a million other things, it’s easy to be to have your attention stretched in so many different directions that you lose sight of yourself and what you need to do here and now, to be successful with your own precious life.

At least it is for me.

I get stretched and pulled, and I lose focus. I lose track of my time. I sit down to check my email, or look at Facebook or YouTube, and suddenly hours have passed. Even if I’m disciplined enough to limit the actual time in front of the computer, sometimes I find what I see or read to be disturbing to my equilibrium. Then my thoughts are hijacked for another couple of hours, and I’m using all my creative energy to deal with those feelings instead of moving ahead in other, more productive directions.

I need to focus on my financial health, on my healthy body/mind/family health, and on my creative health first. Then the rest can filter around it.

So, here’s the plan. Call it the Betsy State of the Union, if you will.

I’m turning off the Internet as much as possible. If it’s not possible to turn it off completely, I’ll get an app allowing me to limit access to the more distracting sites (like email and social media). But ideally, it will be completely off most of the time.

I’ve gotten away from my Tiny Tasks. I haven’t been working every day on fiction writing, other writing, business/fiction planning and de-stressing. I’m going to re-institute them so I touch each of these areas every day (or mostly every day). That should ensure that fiction writing, blogs, and newsletters get moving again on a more regular basis.

I have developed an in-depth financial budget to start getting a handle on my own personal debt crisis. I’ve already screwed it up over the past month or so, but it’s in place again now.

I’ve developed a health initiative, which faltered during the stress of the last couple of months. That is being re-implemented as well.

I’ve started a writing log to show me how much I’m writing every day, and in which areas I’m spending my time.

Perhaps most importantly, I’m starting a time budget. I know how much free time I have every day, and I want to account for it, the same way I account for my money. I want to spend it intentionally, not have it drip away without my consent. It’s fine to build in time to check email, look at Facebook, or watch television, but those activities must be scheduled, and they must happen outside of prime creative writing time. The mindless, blank-eyed scrolling, watching, and reading has to stop.

On top of that, everything’s going to be written down so I can see exactly where the time is going. That’s the first step to regaining control and focus. If you don’t know what’s going on or when it’s happening, you can’t change it.

We are constantly being asked to lose focus. But our lives are infinitely precious. We can’t just throw them away because we didn’t notice where they went.

I’ve fought way too hard to have my life. I will be damned if I’m going to lose it now just because I didn’t see it walking away.

After all, today might very well be the last we’re given. None of us know the length of time we’ll be here. Let’s make it the best possible.

We’re the only ones who can.

November 6, 2016
Distractions
dis·trac·tion

dəˈstrakSH(ə)n/noun
1. 1. a thing that prevents someone from giving full attention to something else. “the company found passenger travel a distraction from the main business of moving freight.”
synonyms: diversion, interruption, disturbance, interference, hindrance “a distraction from the real issues.”
1. 2. extreme agitation of the mind or emotions. “he knew she was nervous by her uncharacteristic air of distraction”
synonyms: frenzy, hysteria, mental distress, madness, insanity, mania
Distractions can come in many shapes and sizes. Sometimes they aren’t all that pleasant – “what’s going on with my health?” “what’s going on with my job?” “what’s going on with my money?”

Sometimes they are warm and fuzzy and very cute.

Exhibit A – Meet Mr. Masha Miguel de Cervantes Horvath (known informally as “Mickey”).

Mickey is an incredibly delightful, wonderful, awesome, fluffball of a cat. I am so glad that he came into my life, and into my home. It’s not his fault that I turned him into a distraction of epic proportions, a distraction creating inertia that lasted for almost the entire month of September. No, this had nothing at all to do with him, and everything, as it turns out, to do with me and my fears.

As I entered into the month of September, I realized that, since the first drafts were finished for both my next novel and my novella, I needed to move forward get working on the second drafts. And I choked. Honestly, I always choke going from the first draft to the second draft. I’m always SURE I won’t be able to straighten out the book and come up with something even remotely decent. I look at the mess I’ve created, and I don’t have the slightest clue what to do about it.   This time, the feeling was worse than normal, augmented by a MASSIVE amount of insecurity about the books already published.

Enter Mickey. He’d been dumped, starving, at the house of a woman I know. She couldn’t keep him, and I’d been thinking about bringing in a third cat, so she told me about him needing a home.

I’d like to tell you that I made the calm, rational decision to adopt this sweet little guy, and then concentrated on breaking through my anxiety and mental roadblocks and moving forward with my work.

I’d like to tell you I was a professional.

I’d like to tell you that I did not descend into madness.

But I can’t.

No, I didn’t focus on the real reasons for all of my anxiety and insecurity and doubt and fear.

I focused on Mickey.

First I had to stress about whether or not I was doing the right thing. My other two cats are at opposite ends of the spectrum – Eddie is definitely Alpha. Tasha is definitely Omega. Where would Mickey fit in? Could he fit in? I take my responsibilities as a pet owner very seriously. Would bringing him in be fair to all of them?

Then, once I’d visited Mickey, realized he had exactly the right personality for my house, and decided to take him, I had to stress about whether I’d made the right decision. Had I done the right thing? Had I made a huge mistake? What if I brought him home and Eddie was aggressive to him? How should I introduce them? How could I make sure he didn’t get hurt? How should I set up my house? There was a delay in me getting him, so I had to stress about when to bring him home. What day would be best? Should I take him to the vet first? Would he let me handle him since he hardly knew me?

When he was finally with me, I had to stress about introductions and how to ease the transition with the other two cats. I put him in a little spare room I have, and sat with him, playing with him, stressing about whether or not he was lonely, and about Eddie, and how he seemed to be afraid, and what would happen when the two met face to face?

Do you know what happened?

Eddie hissed at Mickey a little bit and chased him once or twice.

It got better the next day.

And better still the next.

And now they’re on the way to becoming good friends. Mickey is part of my household, and I can’t imagine life without him.

And it’s October.

And Betsy blinks open her eyes, looks around and says, “What’s going on? What did I do in September?”

And the answer is – not much.

I stressed.

Because I stressed, I fell back into my habitual patterns for dealing with it – I ate inappropriately for my diabetic condition, and I did not sleep.

Because I ate inappropriately and I did not sleep, the stress increased.

Rinse and repeat.

I focused on Mickey, obsessed about him. I stressed, and I ate, and I did not sleep, and I did not write. Even more importantly, I did not work on the real problem.

Because the real problem, the problem I was trying to avoid with all of this stressing and eating and not sleeping, was the fact that my first drafts were finished, and I was terrified to move forward with them. Even when I told myself that I was working on my writing, what I was doing was more in line with dealing with insecurity about the books already finished, rather than moving to finish the ones I’m currently working on.

So, what’s the point of me sharing all of this? Other than exposing my neurosis, what’s the purpose of this exploration into Betsy’s psyche?

It’s only to say that distractions come in all shapes and sizes and degrees of awfulness or wonderfulness. They can crop up when you least expect them, out of a perfectly sunny sky.   Anything, really, can become a distraction – from a sweet and wonderful little cat, to the horrible presidential election, to the newest Netflix TV show.   We create these distractions, and we focus on them so we don’t have to focus on something else that might be more difficult and more important.

Yes, I had to decide what I wanted to do about Mickey. Yes, I had to make sure I felt like I was making the right decision. Yes, I had to deal with that situation, and I’m so glad that I made the decision I did. Mickey IS extremely important. But I did not need to spend the entire month of September stressing about him. The impotent, unproductive stress WAS the distraction. I focused on that instead of moving forward, taking the next step, pushing through my fear and the barriers set up by the part of my mind that says I CAN’T.

It happens so often, at so many points in our lives.   We’re sailing in our little boats, and then a current comes and knocks us off course. If we don’t notice what’s going on, we can sail around in circles.

The trick, I guess, is to see it, and steer back into the stream again.

I’m going to go hug Mickey, and Eddie, and Tasha. And then I’m getting back to work.
October 2, 2016
Striving for Sanity

I don’t want to burst anyone’s bubble, but I’m kind of a neurotic mess of a girl. I’m compulsive, obsessive, obsessive-compulsive, addictive, paranoid, anxious, and fearful, to name a few of my more endearing traits.

But other than that, I’m fine.

I’ve been a bit more insane than usual over the last few weeks / months. The election did it to me. The news of what’s happening in the world did it to me. The good people dying. The rising hatred and divisiveness on the Internet. The breathless flame-wars on social media. The shouts of radio talk hosts, or cable news anchors, or bloggers. Everyone who wants to tell you what you should think, and believe, and do.

It truly has been a long, hot summer.

There are still many, many messages of joy and peace and love out there—I know this for a fact. But joy and peace and love don’t get you ratings or clicks or views and, thus, advertisers. So it’s the ugliness we tend to see the most of.

In the face of all of this, I feel helpless, and that just makes things worse. I realized a few weeks ago, that I needed to find a constructive way to respond, at least in my own mind. I needed to find a way to walk my path, even when the world seems like it’s spinning out of control all around me. To live, and not get swept up in the tornado.

Oh, by the way, there are tornados, too. And hurricanes. And massive flooding. And earthquakes.

Anyway, I knew that I needed to protect myself – my “self” – or I’d go nuts.

“Go?” I hear you say.

Smart alecks.

So, here’s the first step I decided to take. I turned off the wifi router.

And peace descended upon the Palatial Horvath Estate.

I don’t have cable or a smart phone, and my antenna only picks up three stations, so turning off the wifi connection basically cuts me off from all media. And when I’m at my day job, I’m actually, you know, working. So even though I can’t turn off the Internet connection there, it’s not as bad.

I need to dole out my Internet connectivity in small chunks because my compulsive / addictive personality demands it. I do still need to connect, but deciding when I want to be online instead of just having it always on and available, gives me the power to choose. It means I won’t be looking at social media or email as much, so hopefully, I won’t miss anything time-sensitive. But since I will still be looking at it, I shouldn’t miss anything important.

The second thing I’m doing is writing with focused intensity (see the last blog post).

You see, it occurred to me that the only thing I can do to make my little sliver of the world even the teensiest bit better is to write, and work towards my goals. To live as fully and as well as I possibly can.

But, wait, you say. That makes absolutely no sense. How do my pathetic attempts at writing impact anything whatsoever?

I don’t know, but it’s all I’ve got. All I can be is who and what I am. I don’t help anyone or anything by trying to lie and be someone else. I don’t help anything if I try to be what other people tell me I should be, or if I hide under the bed because I’m so afraid, or if I get caught up in all of the ugliness and spin around in a circle because I’m going insane.

Well, more insane than normal.

And me being more insane than normal is not pretty.

Yes, there are a lot of horrible things in the world, and my writing doesn’t do anything about any of them. But it’s essential to me. And if I turn away from something that’s essential to me, only to be pulled into watching and opining about the gale force winds blowing around us, I’m nothing. Just a leaf. Or dust, as the song goes.

If I’m doing something I love, something that’s essential to me, then maybe I’ll be more fully present in my life, more able to help the people around me. And maybe that will help the world a little bit, too.

At the very least, I might keep my sanity.

But don’t count on it.

September 4, 2016
The Third Thing

A couple of weeks ago, I wrote a blog post about the three big things in my life and what they are. In case you didn’t read that post, my three big things are 1) family/life responsibilities, 2) work, and 3) writing (or story-telling). I hope that I will always have family / life responsibilities. I will always need to support myself and my life. Those two things are non-negotiable. But the third thing…well, the third thing is the reflection of who I am.

I know that I can only handle three big things in my life. I try more than three, and I start dropping balls or plates or whatever. Maybe there are some people out there who can handle more, but I think most are like me. Three big things.

The third thing can get you in trouble, because it’s the thing that’s not defined by the parameters of human society. That’s the thing defined by YOU. I submit that if you can find your third thing, you will be able to fully live your life.

And I have to believe that if I fully live my life, if I fully inhabit the person I am, then I will be able to contribute something to the world and those around me.

Even if that something is, in my case, only a few hours of entertainment.

Here’s how it works in my life.

I know that my third big thing is writing – specifically, telling stories. In the future, storytelling might mean beaming a thought from mind to mind. In the past, it meant sitting around the campfire or jesting in a court. But today it means video, audio, or writing. At the moment, I write.

And yes, I write romance. I don’t ONLY write romance, but that’s what I’m focusing on for now. I’m not writing classic works of fiction here, just things that might entertain the people who find them. But telling stories is my center point, my point of balance. And writing them down makes me a better person.

Wait, what? How does me writing romance novels that hardly anyone knows about help anything?

Well, when I’m not writing, when I’m not sinking into the creative process, I feel empty. I feel two-dimensional and pale, like I’m a line drawing instead of color animation. That’s when I fall into addictive behaviors. That’s when I get so annoyed I can’t stand it. That’s when I have bad thoughts about myself and the people around me, and want to lash out at them. That’s when I get soooo angry. That’s when I’m so tired I can’t function. I often think that the people I work with should be encouraging me to write in the morning before I get to the office. When I don’t, especially when I’m in a destructive pattern where I haven’t worked for several days, I’m manic, depressed, and, I’m sure, a joy to be around.

When I am fully involved in my creative process – in other words, living from my center – I feel energized and at peace with myself and, by extension, those around me. I feel “full”. When I feel “full” (of life, I guess), I have more to give other people. I don’t feel like a victim, I feel like a participant in the process of life. I’ve tapped into the basic part of me, of who I am. Even though I’m only writing silly romance novels not many people know about, or blog posts, or newsletters.

I’m blessed to know what my third thing is. I might lose sight of it from time to time, because there are so many other pretty things in life to explore, but deep down I know. Not everyone knows. But the point is, we all have it.

Your third thing might be gardening. Or running. Or hospitality. Or compassion. Or traveling. Or teaching. Or designing games to play with your kids. Or painting. Or dance. Or balancing spreadsheets. Or translating. Or working at an animal shelter. Or working in a soup kitchen. Or writing songs. Or training your pet cockatoo. Or…or…or…

Your third thing is whatever makes you feel the most intensely you.

Whatever that thing is, you should try to do it. I’m not special; everyone can tap the deep well of creativity and joy.

If we spend all of our time on social media, or obsessively surfing the Internet, or listening to talking heads expounding on the news, we won’t go to the well. Then we’ll be empty and angry.

I guess what I’m trying to say is, if you don’t know what your third big thing is, try to find it. And if you think you have fifty big things, maybe take a look at them. It could be one of them should be big, and the rest should be small.

No matter our circumstances, we all have this miracle of a life. Let’s not waste it. Let’s be the best people we can possibly be. The time we have is too precious to do otherwise.

July 10, 2016
Lost In The Underbrush

Last weekend, I found myself at a point in my manuscript that’s, sadly, very familiar. I have found myself in the exact same place in all of the other books I’ve written (whether published or unpublished).

I realized I didn’t know where the hell I was going.

Until then, I had THOUGHT I knew where I was going.

I was sure I had a plan. An outline, if you will.

I thought I’d put in all the footsteps and building blocks and whatnot to get to my destination.

I thought I saw the destination, and was working towards it.

But, somehow, someway, I’d gotten lost in the underbrush.

And I didn’t know where the hell I was.

In fact, I looked up from my manuscript last weekend and realized I wasn’t going anywhere. I was just spinning around in a circle with no real objective in sight.

So what happened?

I think part of it was, even though I’d thought I had planned where I was going, I really hadn’t. I had a vague idea in mind of where I wanted to end up. I was writing in a general direction, not with a specific objective.

Which is fine if you never want to get anywhere.

Upon further reflection, I was relieved to see that the words I’d written, the threads I’d created, were still good. The story was there, I could see the outline (heh!) of the path I wanted to take. But it was overgrown with shrubs that needed to be trimmed or replanted.

Actually, that’s not too bad. I need to take what is already there, and shape it up. Get those wild shrubs under control. But the ground itself is good, and the plants are healthy.

When I’ve run into this problem before, it’s often been a wee bit more challenging. Sometimes there’s a problem with the garden itself. The path I’m walking isn’t right. The plants are sickly. Then everything needs to be moved or scrapped completely.

Sometimes I think the problem is the garden, the base of the story. I throw everything away, when all I really needed to do was weed.

And isn’t this a little like life? Or my life anyway.

We think we’re on a path, we think we can see it, we think we’re following it, we think we’re good.

And then we realize we don’t know where the hell we are.

We’ve gotten lost in the underbrush, or distracted by the pretty flowers, or fallen asleep under a tree.

Maybe the path is basically good, and it’s just covered with weeds. Then all we need to do is clean it up so we can see it clearly again.

Maybe the path is bad. Then we need to lay the course for a new one and move.

In both cases, some of the plants growing along the way might need to be discarded. Some might just need to be pruned or moved to a different place. But we can’t assume that we should throw everything away simply because we’re lost.

Things we’ve done, people we’ve known, places we’ve been – these are all the words in the stories of our lives. Maybe we’ve lost our way to our destination, maybe we need to weed our path a little, maybe we need to change where our story is heading, but we can’t discount or discard the experiences we’ve had along the way just because we don’t know where the hell we are.

Fortunately, I didn’t immediately trash my entire manuscript. I could have. I could have thrown it all away in disgust, thinking it was worthless. I certainly have done that in the past. But I stopped, and evaluated the situation first. (which is a bit of a miracle).

Then, this time, for this book, I saw that the story was there, waiting for me to find it again.

July 3, 2016
Can’t

Nobody knows the importance of words better than a writer. After all, words are the tools I work with. Visual media is all well and good, but words get inside your brain and paint pictures only you can see. And if I want you to see basically the same thing I’m seeing, I’d better be aware of the words I’m using.

I believe with all of my heart that words are powerful. They can be powerful in a good way, or powerful in a bad way. That’s because words are basically symbols for thoughts.

Pure thought has no shape or substance. To give a thought meaning, to be able to express that thought to another person, or even to be able to understand it ourselves, we have to make that thought into a story. We have to change thoughts into symbols we can assimilate, and then, maybe, communicate.

There are some words that are particularly powerful. One of those words is “can’t”. Sometimes that’s a good thing. For example…

“I can’t jump naked off that 400 foot cliff onto jagged rocks without dying”
“I can’t stand in front of a tractor trailer going 70 mph without being hit. And dying.”
“I can’t punch a police officer without going to jail.”

“Can’t” used this way forces you to recognize consequences. You can’t do something without something else happening.

“Can’t” also helps define our abilities. If I tell you “I can’t run fast”, trust me that this is the truth. I really can’t run fast. My body is not capable of running fast. If I tell you “I can’t pay cash for a Mazarati,” this is also true. I don’t have that capability.

But “can’t” might also be used in ways that are dangerous, especially when we use it in an internal monologue. That’s because “can’t” is essentially a word of limitations. It defines boundaries. Sometimes that’s good, such as when we are contemplating jumping naked off a cliff onto jagged rocks. But sometimes it’s not very helpful, or true.

For example, if I say “I can’t clean up my bedroom,” that is not a true statement. Of course I can clean up my bedroom. What I am really saying is “I choose not to spend the little free time I have cleaning up my bedroom” or “I don’t want to clean up my bedroom”. But I CAN clean up my bedroom if I want to clean up my bedroom. There are no real limitations to my ability to clean up my bedroom.

If I say “I can’t write,” this is also false. I obviously CAN write. I’m writing this. What I’m saying is “I’m not sure that I can write something good” or “I don’t know what to write”. But I CAN write.

In these instances, “can’t” is being used as shorthand, but it can also be dangerous if the power of the word is turned against us, especially in our own thoughts.

Consider these statements-

“I can’t write another book”
“I can’t resist cookies.”
“I can’t clean out my closet.”
“I can’t get ahead.”
“I can’t save money.”
“I can’t win.”

Used in this way, “can’t” has turned us into a victim. We are powerless in the face of the tasks and concepts expressed. We are limiting ourselves. We “can’t” do it.

And yet, of course, in many cases when we tell ourselves we “can’t” do it, we really can. Of course we can. It may not be wise. It may not be a suggestion that we should follow at the moment, but we CAN do it.

Look at what happens if we exchange word “I can’t” for the phrase “it’s not wise to”

“I can’t jump naked off a cliff onto jagged rocks”
“It’s not wise to jump naked off a cliff onto jagged rocks.”

This is a true statement. It’s not wise to jump naked off a cliff onto jagged rocks.

“I can’t resist cookies.”
“It’s not wise to resist cookies”

Um, no. Sometimes (such as when you are a diabetic writer) it IS wise to resist cookies. I CAN resist cookies. I just choose not to resist cookies sometimes.

See? Although the decision not to resist cookies is (for me) unwise, by acknowledging that I’ve made a decision I take back power in the situation. I CAN resist cookies, but I choose NOT to resist cookies. That statement is an acknowledgment of my choice, not blaming a false limitation and making myself a victim to what I can and can’t do.
Of course, it also means that my actions are my responsibility. I have made the choice.

And that is the biggest danger of using “can’t” in our internal thoughts. If we think “can’t”, we could be avoiding responsibility for our actions.

“I can’t write another book” means it’s not my fault. “I choose not to write another book because I’d rather fat-ass and play video games” means that it is my decision, and my responsibility. Or “I feel inadequate about writing another book because I’m afraid I’ll never be able to do it again” means I have to face up to my fears. Or “Writing books is hard and I don’t know if it will turn out any good” means that I have to struggle to persevere or decide not to struggle and persevere.

A lot of times, “can’t” is a heck of a lot easier.

So, what is the point of this whole thing? For me, it’s about taking the first step forward. There are still many areas in my life where I feel helpless, even though I actually have all the power. My spare bedroom and my closet intimidate me because I don’t see how I can get them organized. I “can’t” do it.

And yet, I can.

And I actually am, by doing a little bit at a time. As I move forward, I see that I “can” because I “am.”

Maybe that’s what I’m trying to say here. If you do it, you’ll see that you can do it. You still have to think about what you’re doing and consider the consequences – the word “can’t” exists for a reason. But if you haven’t done the things you’ve wanted to do for days or years, or for your whole life, because you’ve think you “can’t”, take another look, and take action. Maybe you’ll find out that you “can” after all.

“Can’t” is a powerful word. Don’t use it against yourself. I’ll try to do the same.

May 22, 2016