5
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Scene
The living room. Sasha comes home after a long day of wrangling teenagers.
Sasha: “Where’s the couch?”
Sara: “I donated it to Goodwill. Look how open the living space is now!”
End scene.
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2
Looking around my house, I see a life that’s been whittled down to pretty simple.
Yet I’m always seeking ways to push it further. To find the edge where simple meets comfort and to balance there.
What I’m discovering (again and again) is that it’s about maintenance.
Just like getting a haircut or a teeth cleaning, keeping your life simple requires a little bit of upkeep—and moments devoted to just doing it. The longer I avoid it, the more it needs to get done. Simplifying is sort of like the laundry in that way. Once you’ve simplified, it can be very, very tempting to take a deep breath and say, Phew, glad that’s over and walk away. But a month later, or a year later, without maintenance, you’ll be right back where you began.
1. Just say no to mail. Email & snail mail, both build up. (A.) Email at least doesn’t take up physical space, but an overflowing inbox is stressful! I delete what I’m not going to read, I remove myself from mailing lists that are no longer interesting to me, and I respond to things in a timely manner, usually as soon as I read them, though occasionally it takes me a little longer. I can usually clear through my emails in a half an hour. (B.) Snail mail has a bad habit of piling up on surfaces, so a physical system is in order. First, go sign up at Catalog Choice and get off those catalog mailing lists (save a tree or three). Sign up for online billing whenever you can. Open and deal with mail as soon as it comes in. Recycle whatever you don’t need/want. Do this every day, as soon as you pick up your mail, and you’ll never have that miscellaneous pile hanging around on the counter or kitchen table.
2. Weed out your wardrobe. Often. Whenever something new comes in and whenever you find yourself staring at the same old stuff you never wear. Keep a bag or box somewhere for donations. (Really the best way to keep the closet simple is to not shop. But I know that’s living in static world, and we are by no means static beings.)
3. Get rid of electronics as they break/outlive their usefulness/get replaced with other electronics. This means not keeping your old cell phones in a drawer somewhere. It means removing extension cords your trouble-making cat has sunk his teeth into one too many times. It means recycling old computers and other devices. There are lots of places to recycle these things: Goodwill takes old computers, CD Recycling Center takes old cell phones, Xmas lights, VHS tapes, floppy disks, chargers, etc. A quick Google search will turn up even more options.
4. Don’t accept freebies. Unless it’s something you need. Which it probably isn’t.
5. Don’t browse/shop when you’re bored. The less stuff you bring into your house, the less stuff you’ll have to wrangle with later.
6. USE IT UP. Don’t buy more shampoo, face wash, toothpaste, canned food, tea, coffee, ketchup, etc., until you’ve used up what you’ve got. If you buy a product you don’t like, give it to someone who will, or donate it (if it’s unopened, non-perishable food especially).
7. Reconsider. Remember that life and circumstances change. What you needed three years ago is probably pretty different than what you need now. Embrace change and don’t cling to what was.
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3
I finished The Cat’s Table by Michael Ondaatje the other night. It’s an interesting book, but one thing toward the end particularly caught my eye. He writes:
“Recently I sat in on a master class given by the filmmaker Luc Dardenne. He spoke of how viewers of his films should not assume they understood everything about the characters. As members of an audience we should never feel ourselves wiser than they; we do not have more knowledge than the characters have about themselves. We should not feel assured or certain about their motives, or look down on them. I believe this. I recognize this as a first principle of art, although I have the suspicion that many would not.”
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On first read, I too agree. Absolutely. One never really knows characters in a complete way, even the characters one creates, in much the same way one never really knows anyone.
On second read, I halted. Said But wait. If we don’t know characters, if we don’t understand them or engage with them in the way we engage with those around us, what is the point of art?
Readers, I ask you: What is your experience of art? What are your principles of art? (More on mine in a later post.)
Are you interactive? Are you a mere observer? Do you invest in a character’s storyline or does that not matter to you? Do you prefer style over substance or substance over style or do you require both? Do you like art that speaks to the mind or to the heart? Are you a minimalist or a maximalist? I invite you to share your thoughts in the comments.
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1
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There is a pile of ‘‘stuff’ on my kitchen bench that seems to have a life all of its own.
I don’t know exactly how it got there but I know I feed it. And it grows. Just like it is a living thing. It’s made up of things that keep the household running. Bills…school newsletters…recipes and brochures of holiday destinations.
About 6 weeks ago I woke up, walked out into the kitchen and glared at pile of ‘stuff’ with contempt. It reminded me every day that I didn’t have time to put it away or act on what was in there. I really should give blood…Why is the phone bill that much? When does the school term end? I should cook that great recipe I found for dinner tonight. I was tired of being reminded of what I should do. I wanted to just do.
I realised the only way to ‘do’ was to ‘ditch’. I was like a mad woman possessed. I paid the bills immediately. I put the recipes in the folder I refer to each week for meals. I wrote the important school dates on the calendar. I threw out the brochures of those far away destinations.
I felt free. It felt like I could actually enjoy my kitchen space. If that’s how I felt by removing one pile, I wondered what would happen if I cleared each room in the house of its ‘stuff’?
So I did it just to find out.
I now walk through the house with no guilt! I walk through with a peaceful feeling. A clean feeling. I have a clear head when I’m in my house now. The ‘stuff’ in those spaces was constantly nagging me to clean it, sort it, throw it, donate it, pay it, file it or use it. The nagging was gone!
What happened when the nagging ‘stuff’ disappeared?
I had more time. I didn’t have to clean it so I could read that book I’ve wanted to read. I didn’t have to file it and sort it so I started sewing again. I didn’t have to remember to pay it or feel guilty for not using it so I cooked meals ahead of time. All of a sudden I could do things.
The best part….experiences started to find me.
I didn’t have clutter in my space and in my head so I started to plan my ultimate holiday which is now set to happen next year. I could scrapbook and document my family’s lives. I have started to learn a musical instrument. And even better…I didn’t want to go and buy anything to fill the space so I had savings! I could use my money to have the experiences I couldn’t afford previously. It all sounds too good to be true and I like it that way.
Now when someone asks me, ‘How are you doing?’ I don’t automatically answer with, ‘Oh you know…busy!’ I can honestly tell them that life is good. It’s as simple as that.
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2
We all have those days. The ones where our energy just seems all over the place. You sit down to write a short something or other and the next thing you know you’re making a cup of coffee or playing on Facebook. You pick up a book to read and without realizing it your mind wanders to what you might eat for dinner.
My own energy has been a little scattered this weekend: it’s picked up a bunch of signals and rather than responding methodically to each one, I’ve been haphazardly jumping from task to task. Since this is just one weekend, I let it go. And truth be told, I did get a thing or two accomplished. Still, I prefer a more focused approach, and below are a few suggestions on how to get and maintain focus.
Passion: ”Passion is the genesis of genius.” —Tony Robbins * This is really the driving force. Without passion, the task at hand will never really hold your attention. Sometimes I start a blog post and three days later I haven’t finished it because every time I sit down to write it, I get distracted. If that’s the case, I delete the post and start over. Same goes for the novel: if I start writing a scene and several days later I still haven’t finished it, it gets consigned to the dust pile. Now, I know we can’t all be passionate all the time about everything we do. But when it comes to creativity and/or lifestyle, passion is the number one fire starter; the golden ticket; the key that unlocks every door. Cultivate passion as often as possible, about as many things as you can.
Persistance: And remember “Genius is 1% inspiration and 99% perspiration.”
Eliminate distractions: That’s just too obvious isn’t it? But how many of us actually take the time to eliminate our most pernicious distractions? First, identify them. I’m really, really prone to jumping onto the internet at any given moment. I finally learned just to turn my airport off while I’m writing. I encourage you to do the same, if you’re an internet junkie. There are also programs like Chrome Nanny which will block certain websites at certain times and display a clever little “Shouldn’t you be working?” message if you attempt to distract yourself. Other distractions include: cute cats, telephone calls, small children, cocktail hour, shopping, eating, etc. If you’ve got a busy household, perhaps getting out of it and sitting at a cafe to work is the way to go. If you’ve got a partner, enlist their help for a silent hour or two. If being solo is a distraction in and of itself, get a creativity buddy to work with a few times a week (but no idle chatting, because that defeats the purpose).
Set goals: Nice, manageable, accomplishable goals. Goals like Write 500 words or Spend 1 hour drawing or Take 10 photographs. Choose goals you know you can make happen in one day. Success begets success, and if you set yourself up to succeed, you will continue to returning to the task.
Push, push: This is sort of the opposite of what I just said, but can be just as important. Create challenges for yourself. This weekend I decided to push myself out of my comfy, solitary writing zone and sign up for a writing workshop. Pushing at your edges a little bit can really stimulate focus.
Reward yourself: Eat an ice cream cone. Get a massage. Take a nap. Go for a walk. Whatever it is, just make sure you treat yourself for your hard work. All work and no play does not inspire passion. Don’t push yourself so hard that you stop enjoying whatever it is you enjoy. Focus will stick around if you use it wisely and then give it a nice rest.
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Recommended Reading: Leo Babauta’s Zen to Done
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1
Hi.
Have you ever wanted to guest post on Life More Lived? If so, now’s your chance! I’m looking for fresh perspectives on the simple, creative life.
Some prompts: How has minimalism/simple living made an impact on your creative life? How do you create space for the life you love? What simple pleasures do you seek out? What sparks your creativity? How do you sustain your creative practice when life gets crazy?
Some guidelines:
I look forward to reading and sharing your wisdom.
~Sara
(Please feel free to spread the word by reposting!)
2
“I have rewritten—often several times—every word I have ever published. My pencils outlast their erasers.” —Vladimir Nabokov
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Now that I’m elbows deep in the second draft of my novel, I realize something: Writing the first draft was a piece of cake.
Rewriting is more like a bowl of oatmeal. It isn’t too bad, but it’s definitely not cake.
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The better metaphor for rewriting is that the first draft is like a messy closet. You know, the closet where you just throw anything and everything that comes your way. The one that is full to the bursting point, threatening to explode when you open it.
The first draft is messy as all get-out, as it should be.
The second draft is all about winnowing—it’s time for simplifying and minimizing.
It’s time to start asking questions. Time to use your most discerning eye. Time to take that mess out into the light and see what suits you. There will be things you want to keep even though you know they have no place. There will be lines and words you are sentimental about—I find the most difficult parts to delete are the ones I wrote first (some of them before I even knew I was writing a novel)—and this is unsurprisingly like how difficult it is to get rid of baby shoes or the first dress you ever bought yourself that no longer fits or is in any way flattering.
Inspected closely, the items we own say a lot about us, who and what we’ve been. Sometimes, in order to grow, those old items need to go. Same thing happens during rewriting. Characters you thought were one way will shift and morph and come out in the end as something very different. In order to make it work, you might need to let go of liking a character and instead allow her to become who she is.
The items we own may give perspective into who we are, but they do not define us. And so it is with a story. Things are going to change in the story, not everything that was recorded the first time around will remain. The essential self of the story will remain. It might say That doesn’t fit me or I no longer need that but it will still be there after it’s been stripped down to its essence.
Actually, it’ll probably be better once all that extraneous stuff is gone.
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PS. I created a new author website for myself…so you can follow all the exciting news about my writing publications, should you feel so inspired.
1
That sneaky whisper appeared last night. I was sitting on the blue couches, surrounded by cats, with the second draft of my novel up on the computer screen, and I was about to start working on a chapter, and there was that sound. At first it was just a hum, them a rumble, then it was right up in my face and it said something like this: Do you really think anyone will ever want to read this sh*t?
While I was whispering (rather meekly) Yes, the voice was settling in next to me. It was peeking over my shoulder and snorting with laughter at my sentence structure and my plot line.
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I confess this: I listened to the voice. I considered what it had to say. And then I erased a few old paragraphs and got up to make dinner.
I confess this too: When I’m struggling with something, especially with the process of writing, I am downright grumpy. As I made dinner I got more grumpy, and when I’m grumpy, I get a touch self-righteous. It’s rather unpleasant, Sasha will attest.
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After eating, I set my bowl in the sink and I returned to my computer. I got a little grumpy and self-righteous with doubt, and then I kicked doubt out. Bye-bye.
For now.
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This doubt, the one that arises now that the first draft is fully written, is a little different than the doubt that arose while setting down the story. The old doubt didn’t have to work very hard: the project was new, it was beginning, it was fragile and tenuous the way all young things are.
This new doubt has to work a little harder, but the thing about doubt is that it’s endless. It shape-shifts and it accommodates. It’s used to getting its way, and it never hesitates to bully. (Though sometimes it doesn’t have to, sometimes it merely shows up and makes a casual suggestion.)
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About a month ago, I went over to a friend’s house for afternoon tea and spent a good deal of time complaining about a bunch of writing things I had to do. She listened to me whine, and then she said something that really stuck: Don’t create struggle where you don’t need to. Things done with ease have a way of working themselves out. She has a point.
Since she said that, every time I feel my hackles go up I pause and let them relax. Sometimes this takes only a second and a deep breath. Other times I have to walk very far away in order to see the struggle I’m creating and/or participating in. Sometimes I walk away and I see the struggle just isn’t worth it—whatever it is will never please me no matter how much I push. Other times I see the struggle has something to teach me, and if that’s the case, I dive in.
Writing this novel is a curious experience.
I doubt. Yes, that’s quite honest. I doubt myself, and my reasons for undertaking this project. I doubt my ability, my writing style, my characters, the plot.
Each time doubt arrives, I recognize its peculiar ways. I see that it has something to show me—where a little bit of struggle might do some good, and where struggle is completely unnecessary.
Because of this, I see that doubt should not be banished, only kept at a healthy distance.
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Reading: The Cat’s Table by Michael Ondaatje
Listening to: ¿Which Side Are You On? by Ani DiFranco
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0
I’ve been thinking about texture sort of obsessively since yesterday. And how without it the whole world would be one dimensional. Or two dimensional. Or something—something boring and flat and not-very-tactile. And how, without texture, art pretty much sucks. I googled “texture” and discovered that most uses of the term are related to art: music, visual art and painting, textiles, etc. Let’s add writing to that list, because I’m a writer, and I like texture. But what does texture look like in writing? It’s obviously a different beast than the texture of a painting or