Tag Archives: discipline

Culture/Politics

Kid Karma

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...you know, like, their parents?
…you know, like, their parents?

“I can’t take the Dude outside to play at the park,” Teen Son declared. “There’s broken glass everywhere there.”

Apparently some kids got a hold of a microwave and decided the appropriate thing to do was shatter the rotating glass plate on the public use cement patio behind our house. I sighed in frustration, bemoaned the wicked deeds of “darn kids these days,” and decided to call the housing area manager since the park isn’t actually my responsibility despite its proximity.

Then, a few hours later, my daughter tells me there’s glass in the front yard. “No,” I reply, “it’s at the park, in the back. Isn’t it?”

“Well I think there’s glass out front too.”

I investigate to discover the remains of a Vlasic pickle jar, not five feet from my front door, shattered on the cement walkway to the sidewalk. Chunks and shards sparkle between blades of grass beside the cement.

I’m out there sweeping and picking up shards in the dark with a flashlight, listening to my middle son describe what he saw, and thinking about the conversations I need to have with some neighborhood parents.

“[Kid 1] had the jar, and he wanted to break it. So he put a bunch of rocks in it and shook it really hard. But it didn’t break.”

ok, so first I need to make sure some parents talk to him about how dangerous and dumb it is to break glass in your own hand.

“Then [Kid 2] said he’d help. And he took it and smashed it on the cement.”

Then I need to discuss the fact I don’t want a sea of glass shards outside my front door.

“Yeah,” Teen Son adds, “those were the kids who broke that stuff in the park.”

Maybe I should take a closer look.

We check and discover not just a microwave but an assortment of kitchen items turned refuse. Plastic cups and jars, and a blender–plugged into the patio outlet and seemingly used to blend aluminum cans.

I don’t know any way to explain that to parents other than “So, boys being boys, it seems the kids decided to blend some cans and break appliances in the park patio, and that seems not too safe.”

Maybe it’s a form of karma. I broke bottles on train tracks and threw florescent tube lights like spears. I even punched one once–yes, that ended poorly. I was friends with the kid who tried to build bombs in his garage, so maybe my parents thought, “Well at least David isn’t blowing anything up.” Or maybe they didn’t know the full scope of my nefarious activities.

Now I can imagine what a number of homeowners must have felt back then at finding shards of glass scattered on their curbside. I didn’t think of it then, but I get it now. So I expect the neighborhood kids will be mad that someone talked to their parents, and they’ll probably be upset about being grounded (or whatever form of discipline if any they receive).

I don’t care.

I’m pretty sure that the vast majority of parents would rather be aware of their kids’ behavior, however blissful ignorance might be. If you catch my kid shattering jars on your front door (or throwing light-spears or lighting things on fire or planning to build a bomb), I’d love to hear about it. I’ll probably thank you and apologize, blushing profusely.

Then my kid will come clean up the mess. I might even hold the flashlight.

Bordermarches, Writing

Back Where I Started

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On a deployment six and a half years ago, to a “secret” undisclosed location in Southwest Asia (that everyone knew all about), I picked up some D&D rulebooks to keep boredom at bay.

I read through the rules of the game, and noted some of the authors’ suggestions for ideas players could use for their characters–or Dungeon Masters could use to write stories those characters could star in, like a Choose Your Own Adventure.

And it struck me that no matter how well I planned a story, real live people would make decisions I didn’t anticipate, causing the Adventure to go in any of several exciting ways–but not the way I first envisioned.

So why not write the story the way I wanted to?

I sat under the Memorial Plaza’s massive double-tent (affectionately referred to by most as “the bra” for how it appears from a distance) or at the Coffee Beanery shop across the street, and I began to write.

I’ve written things before, of course. But during my two trips here several years ago, I decided to take writing seriously. Within a couple years of studying novel writing and elements of style, over the course of six plus months deployed (and time writing at home), I’d typed out over 100,000 words of a massive fantasy tale.

But the material borrowed too heavily from genre tropes. It sounded too much like World of Warcraft or Dungeons and Dragons in novel form. It had no unique element to separate it from the rest of the books on any fantasy shelf, along with too many elements I discovered had been done before and better than anything I’d write.

I decided to shelve the thing until I could devise some fixes to all the problems I saw. And I worked on other projects until I found the solutions to those glaring issues.

I regret that decision. It took me six and a half years to develop the discipline to finish a full novel manuscript–not of this fantasy project, just a novel–because I’d learned to give up part way whenever I felt a project had too many flaws.

So here I sit, where I began years ago, halfway through the almost-completely-rewritten manuscript of my long-planned fantasy novel. A lot has changed. Almost everything about the world, the magic systems, and the long-term plan for the story is different than when I first envisioned it. Also, I’m allowed to sit here in jeans and a Hawaiian shirt instead of wearing Air Force PT gear.

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Most important, I’ve proven to myself through NaNoWriMo that I can finish what I start, flawed or not.

So this time, I will have a completed draft before I depart for home. I may find my way out here again in the next few years, but I don’t want this novel to come with me for a fourth trip.

Writing

8000 words

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Work is doing its best to get in the way of my NaNoWriMo effort, but so far I have been successful.

If you’re not aware, the goal of National Novel Writing Month is to create a 50,000 word (or more) novel within the 30 days of November. The site for the event encourages the mathematically reasonable daily word goal of 1,667 words, because if you do that every day, you will in fact hit 50K.

Of course, that assumes you never have a bad day, or take a day off. Thanksgiving? You will write. 15 hour work day? You still have to write.

It’s fairly unrealistic (or I make lots of excuses).

So my peers and I discussed aiming for an average of 2000 words per day, because this gives a little bit of buffer for those bad days when life says NO to your writing plan.

I’m happy to report that I’ve passed 8000 words after four days’ effort.

Maybe I’ll save up enough time that I can play around in the new World of Warcraft expansion when it hits on the 13th. Maybe I’ll even have enough time to enjoy Thanksgiving with the family. (“Go away! Writing! Turkey was supposed to make you all sleepy!”)

I’ll get a snippet or three posted here in the near future. For now, I left off in the middle of a scene…

Fitness

Making Time

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“I would, but I don’t have the time!”

Whether the topic is exercise, writing, a volunteer opportunity, or some other optional pursuit, I’ve heard and said those words countless times. I’m sure you have too.

But we’ve all probably heard it said: <em>You make time for what matters to you.</em>

It took me by surprise a few years ago, but writing really matters to me. Given my job–or more specifically my desire to keep my job–fitness matters too. Most of all, spending time with my wife and kids is a priority, but it’s so easy to get distracted and shove that to “tomorrow.”

I’ve found I can double the benefit I get out of the same amount of time.

One: a lot of my writing is done on a stationary bike. I can prop up the iPad and Bluetooth keyboard, and tap keys while pushing the pedals. Can’t I find an hour a day to spend on NaNoWriMo? Why not spend it on the bike?

Two: I took a board we had from moving and laid it across the arms of our treadmill. Makeshift desk for free instead of hundreds of dollars, and I can walk at a light pace (2-3 mph) while writing. It’s not much, but it’s not sedentary!

Three: I’ve been reading to my kids for some family time, doing funny voices for different characters and sharing some of my favorite books with them. Now I often do it while walking on the treadmill. Again 3 mph seems the magic pace where I can read (a little uncomfortably) while challenging myself a bit.

Four: For relaxation, I play video games like World of Warcraft on my laptop. Hello, treadmill desk! Yes, I’ve run instances in WoW and finished off quests while walking on the treadmill at the same time. If I’m going to play for an hour (haha, an hour, that’s so cute, let’s be honest 3 or 4 hours) I might as well get something beneficial out of the time. Something more than just another level or another piece of pretend equipment.

Five: “But Dave,” you say, “I don’t have a treadmill, and I don’t have access to a good gym or a stationary bike.” Great point. Let’s assume you’re fortunate enough to have a tablet or at least a smartphone. Hopefully you also have access to a school track or walking path, or a safe sidewalk route where you won’t get run over or jostled by other pedestrians. (Come on, certainly you have a place to walk.) I walk around the track sometimes, tapping away at my on-screen keyboard or entering words into my wee little phone screen. I’m going to have to edit later anyway, so mistakes and auto-correct failures don’t really matter. And do I look weird? No, I just look like I’m trying to relive my teenage years, walking with my head down, eyes and thumbs glued to my personal device. People are going to judge anyway. I might as well do something productive while they’re doing it.

I know, none of these are novel ideas or earth-shattering fitness breakthroughs.

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What they are, though, are answers to many of my excuses.

What have you found as a helpful way to maximize your productivity? I’d love to hear in a comment.

Fitness

Do It Now

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I’ve got some freedom and free time on my hands while I’m on a business trip to the States.

And I have all sorts of grand plans for how to spend the time. Writing my current project, planning my NaNoWriMo project, catching up on other bloggers’ posts, reading up on a few subjects, playing some piano at the music room in the community center, maintaining a healthy diet instead of the junk food that’s readily available.

One of my goals is 2 hours of aerobic activity each day. Maybe not all-out soul-crushing intensity aerobic activity, but 2 hours of good exercise.

Of course here I sit in my room as the clock ticks away the remains of the day.

I messaged my wife to let her know I’m headed to the gym (where sometimes we can’t chat online), and the message captures something I’ll file away in my Motivation folder:

My inner procrastinator is crying and calling me a traitor.
My inner procrastinator is crying and calling me a traitor.

I don’t know what tasks you have on your to-do list, but one of the lessons I constantly have to re-learn is that none of them age well. If you can do it now, do it. Enjoy looking back on the completed task rather than dreading the task that lies ahead.

So, I’m off to the gym. See you in a couple hours.

Writing

When Does Inspiration Strike?

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Just curious, as it’s almost 3 AM here and I’m wide awake tapping on my iPad.

My wife asked me why in the world I so often wait until midnight (or 1 or 2 AM) to get motivated. I don’t have any good answer for her. Maybe my caffeine intake caught up with me, but even when I’m not pounding coffee, this happens to me.

What about you? I’m sure some of you are the mythical “disciplined writer” I’ve heard about, who sets aside a certain time each day and punches out a quota of words. But that’s not what I’m talking about.

When does inspiration strike and demand your attention?

Writing

Elements of Critique: Participation

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The success of any group depends on the combined effort of its members. While a strong personality or two can carry a group for a while, everything will fall apart in their eventual absence.

The more the members know how to communicate and contribute to the whole, the better chances the group will be successful and sustainable.

So how does this work in a critique group? What makes one a good critique group participant?

Like many things in life, the answer boils down to the Golden Rule: Give what you’d like to get.

The biggest part of this Golden Rule participation is: Be timely. Ironic, as I scramble to get this written and posted (three minutes later than my planned publishing time). No one’s perfect, but we keep trying.

Most of what matters to good participation is wrapped up in how we use our time. Submission, preparation, sticking to the main point, and sharing the limited time with others–all of these require being timely.

I try to submit work on time or as close to on time as possible. But life sometimes gets in the way and delays that effort. If I know I’m submitting late, I understand that may mean my work doesn’t get the indepth level of critique I want.

Likewise, I only submit to the group ahead of time (though sometimes late). If I haven’t gotten a submission out before the group meets, I will not bring some printed copies for everyone to read during the session. First, that eats up time, because now everyone is expected to stop and read. Second, the rushed critique will be off-the-cuff, not the thoughtful and reflective critique members might prefer to give. Usually if someone does this, a polite way around it is to say “Can you e-mail me a copy so I take some good time to read and critique it later?”

I also try to be timely about critiquing. I want to give other participants’ work the thoughtful attention I hope they’re giving mine. So I try not to skim, to rush, to read at the last minute. I confess sometimes while others were sharing critiques on one piece, I was reading the next one. But this is unsatisfying for me, and I fear the shallow critique is obvious to the recipient. So I make more effort to carve out time for critique.

Finally, I have to watch the time when I am sharing my critique. I can get wordy (no, you couldn’t tell after almost 30 posts on this subject), and I love pointing out what I think will help. Timely participation means I say my peace and let others take their turn. I don’t want to dominate the time with my indepth review. So I (try to) prepare key points ahead of time, to ensure I hit on what I think is most important.

Everyone has something to share, too. When someone else is talking, I won’t butt in unless I’m certain I can help clarify a moment of confusion. When someone is critiquing my work, I won’t speak unless I must answer a question posed to me, and then only to answer the immediate question.

I like giving helpful advice, and I love it when it seems to make sense to the writer. When they hear it, nod, and agree, I can hope I am helping strengthen their writing. Since I like them to listen to my advice, when it’s my turn in the hot seat, I have to shut up and listen to what others think of my work.

That means I must be open.

Getting defensive is natural. These stories or articles are our babies. We want to stick up for them, or at least justify the mistakes by explaining the intricate thought process that led us to write a certain way. But defensive ears don’t receive advice.

And finally, I must be thorough.

The quality of my critique should be what I hope to receive from others. I want good critique. Thoughtful, constructive, indepth, pointing out both good and bad parts. So that’s what I try to give my fellow group members.

When most (if not all) the participants share these values and strive toward these goals, the critique group will be a powerful resource to improve not just my own writing but everyone else’s involved.

And it’s as simple as “Do unto others what you’d have them do unto you.”

Writing

Always Learning

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I walked out of my brief doctor’s visit and headed through the lobby to my car. The hospital has a valet service, but I need to walk. After all, I’m going through post-surgery physical therapy, so I don’t use it.

The valet is a young man, maybe in his early 20s. He’s got a sketchpad and pen out, and he has a burly superhero-type man flexing next to a typical comic book female figure (the sort that would make Barbie feel unattractive).

Many visitors don’t take advantage of the valet service. Even when they do, the young man jogs out to retrieve the car, so he ends up with a lot of down time. And he’s using that to hone his skills, to build up his craft as an artist.

That’s worthy of respect. I made sure to catch him and pay him a compliment.

My daughter surprised us last night as she was getting ready for bed. She grabbed her violin and practiced for about five or ten minutes, playing “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star” for her brother to help him go to sleep. It didn’t work, but both Mom and I were pleased with her willingness to take a few minutes to practice. She wants to learn, and she shows that dedication in moments like these.

I think of the civilian in my technical school’s chow hall almost 20 years ago. When the customers were intermittent, he always got out a drawing pad and started working on some project, taking advantage of every spare moment, every opportunity.

That’s why I have a notepad or my iPad pretty much everywhere I go. Sitting for 10 minutes with ice on my ankle after physical therapy, I can write the majority of my next A-Z post. Waiting for the doctor, I can jot down a few ideas. When someone in public says something unbelievable, I take a quick note to save it for a future character.

There’s a need for scheduled practice time, just as with any pursuit. But I think one difference between having a hobby and having a passion is that desire to fill every available moment with effort to hone the craft.

Just something I noticed as I walked out the hospital door this morning. What’s your favorite way to take advantage of opportunities throughout the day or week? Maybe it’s a suggestion I, or another reader, will find useful. Let me know in a comment.

Have a blessed Good Friday.

Fitness, Writing

Grinding Gears

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This morning I forced myself out of bed to honor a commitment.

My swollen Frankenstein foot is healing. I’m attending physical therapy sessions to strengthen it. But my whole body needs exercise. My speed has to improve, and my waistline must shrink so I can pass a fitness test.

Time to move.

The first hundred feet powerwalking feel like running a motor with no oil. Like trying to get my tires out of mud or gravel, and they’re spinning with no traction.

It’s like my old 10-speed after a long winter. I’d pull it out of the garage once the snow melted, and spray WD-40 over the chain and gears. But it still took a few minutes of pedaling to shake everything loose. Grinding metal. Sudden jolts as the chain stuck and snapped loose. Frequent rattling. Then finally, it became reliable.

Even then, when I shifted speeds, the chain would sometimes slip off. I’d have to stop, put it back together, get the chain back on track, and start up again.

Effort is the oil in the engine of greatness.

The Chinese understand this. Their word for “to add oil; lubricate” ( 加油 / jia you, pronouced “jah yo”) has the figurative meaning of increasing effort, pushing harder, stepping on the gas.

With this foot, I’m never going to be a marathon runner. I’ll probably never sprint very fast. I won’t be an awesome basketball player.

But I will regain and surpass the speed I once could achieve on this foot. And I will be able to shoot hoops with my daughter again. And who knows, maybe even I’ll go back to running a fitness test instead of merely walking.

Because I will wake up on cold mornings, spray some “oil” on that ankle, suck it up, and start walking. I will get on the bike, strap my feet in, and turn up the resistance. And when it gets easy, I’ll add another level or two.

What matters isn’t where you’re at now. Where you were before doesn’t matter either. What matters is where you’re headed, and what you’re willing to do to get there.

Writing–really, any creative effort–is similar. I used to say writing was a hobby. But I’ve put in effort and study to improve my craft. I keep doing so. I call myself a writer, because writing is what I do, what I will continue to do.

In fact, I call myself author, because I’ve written numerous short stories and devotionals. I’ve put over a hundred thousand words into a manuscript and I have composed over 150 songs. Maybe soon I will self-publish. With some hope, maybe I will one day have work printed in a publication or published by a professional company.

All I know is that today I will sit down at the keyboard and turn words into sentences, phrases into paragraphs, passages into chapters. Then I’ll edit and revise until it’s the strongest work I can produce today.

And I won’t be content with that, so I’ll make myself do better tomorrow.

I’m not saying I’m great. I’m saying I’m not satisfied.

What commitment to yourself are you going to honor today?

Writing

When the Iron is Hot

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No, I did NOT stay up ’til 4 AM after a short catnap in order to finish a chapter of my current project. Haha, who would do such a thing?

I’ve read numerous articles (as I’m sure any aspiring writer also has) discussing discipline and honing one’s craft. We can’t simply wait for inspiration, then write. We have to carve out time and force out effort, knowing that even if the result sucks, at least it was a result that helps us get better in the long run.

Quantity of effort ensures opportunity for quality effort.

“Strike when the iron is hot,” so goes the saying. And it’s taken to mean we should take advantage of those brief bursts of creativity and inspiration. When an idea springs to mind, run with it. If a scene plays out in your head, start writing or typing, and put that image down on record.

But that understanding of the idiom is flawed. The iron only gets hot when the smith gives careful attention to the fire, ensuring the proper temperature to work the metal. The iron gets hot because of effort, not luck. Thus, opportunities can be created, not merely stumbled upon.

I’m curious. If you write or express yourself creatively (which you probably do in some fashion if you’re reading WordPress), what is your experience with the balance of Muscle and Muse, the interplay between forcing out effort and flowing with creative energy?

I do the former to find the latter. What’s your take?