The Chisel and the Mountain
A couple weeks ago, I started the umpteenth rewrite of my first novel. The first several were mostly in vain — I began again and again with no real feedback to help me better the story, characters, or writing, and I ended up making small improvements without affecting the whole.
So I began again last month. Or I should say, “began.”
Oh, I’ve gotten about 5,000 words done. Some of it’s even good. I think. But I’ve been stalling. And I realized today that the reason I’ve been a proprietor of the good old Procrastinapods is that I feel like I’m tackling this:
And I thought to myself, “Self,” I thought, “That’s a damn fine mountain. I think it wants to eat you.”
And then I nodded sagely.
Writers aren’t alone in this dilemma. Not at all. There’s that pile o’ stuff that’s been growing and festering in your garage these ten years. There’s that heap of receipts you keep meaning to organize to itemize your deductions on
this next year’s taxes. There’s re-painting the house, or losing 20 pounds, or finally putting in that flower bed, or learning how to cook when you practically burn water…
…you get the point.
We all have our K2 — some crazy people very literally — and if you’re anything like me, you take a gander at that steep-sided monster of a people-eating mountain and decide you’d much prefer a cuddle with your kitten.
But imagine how you’ll feel after you conquer K2.
Whatever your mountain, here are some no-nonsense approaches to making it manageable.
Start with a small, attainable goal. Instead of saying, “I’m going to lose 20 pounds in April!” tell yourself that you’ll lose 1.5 pounds in the next two weeks by cutting 200 calories from your daily intake and committing to cardio exercise for the equivalent of ten minutes per day. When you look at the scale two weeks from now, you might even be surprised to be down 2 or 3 pounds.
Make small, sustainable changes. Maybe you can’t sit down and climb K2 in an afternoon. Assuming you’re human, you can’t. You’re not going to clean your garage in a day — but you can create a little grid of the space and tackle say, A1 today. Commit to tackling one square of your grid per week, and then in a couple months, voila!
Don’t beat yourself up. K2 will usually beat you up on your own behalf, so why would you team up with it? That mountain’s a monster. That pile of receipts is just armed and waiting to cover your hands with paper cuts and pour lemon juice on them. Don’t give it a chance. If you miss your threshold goals or skip a week, you can always add a few more receipts a day next week to catch up.
Something-something-marathon-not-sprint-something-something. There. A nice cliche to round it out. When you tackle K2, it will tackle you back and have your back flat on the mat if you run at it brandishing your chisel like William Wallace‘s claymore and screeching, “FREEEEEEEEEEEEEDOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!” Like any successful battle strategy, you need to realize that you’ve got the disadvantage. Circle around and slash at the flanks until the flanks are gone — a frontal assault will just look silly until you’ve weakened your mountain a little. And those usually don’t end well.
I’m firing up my chisel today — are you?
Posted on April 10, 2012, in Terror Tuesday, writing process and tagged braveheart, emmie mears, fiction, go team, inspiration, K2, Mel Gibson, motivation, Robert the Bruce, scotland, small goals, United State, urban fantasy, Wikipedia, William Wallace, writing. Bookmark the permalink. 7 Comments.