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Tuesday, June 06, 2006Squashing the Persistent PerfectionistI've come a long way, baby. I'm referring to the relentless spirit of perfectionism that has plagued me almost my entire life. If you're not a perfectionist -- or have never met one -- you may not realize that perfectionism isn't all about Doing Everything Perfectly. Au contraire. It's more like Not Ever Finishing Anything Because It Won't Be Perfect. Huge difference, that. I do finish things. Not everything I mean to finish, but enough to make me appear at least marginally productive. And I keep getting better. Truly. One of the "quirks" of perfectionism that still has its tentacles around me is the Don't Even Start Because There Isn't Enough Time To Finish syndrome. It goes something like this: Jill looks at the clock. It's 3:20. She knows she has to take Rachel to ballet at 4:00. Therefore, she doesn't spend any time on her novel because forty minutes isn't enough time to actually accomplish anything. Are you shaking your head in disgust? Or are you thinking, "Well, yeah, sure, I understand how she feels." (If your answer is the latter, then welcome to the Perfectionist Club.) Over the past few weeks, the thought has been trickling through my brain that, perhaps, grabbing small snatches of time and using them to the best of my ability might actually result in something tangible. Like...oh, say a page or two of my current chapter. What a thought! So today I bit the bullet and put it to the test. It's been a long day -- swimming lessons a 45-minute drive away (and back), an orthodontist appointment, and (worst of all) the weekly ironing, not necessarily in that order. Somewhere in between returning from the orthodontist and having to start dinner, I sat down at my keyboard, fiercely determined to work on my novel no matter what. In the space of about thirty minutes, I wrote two entire pages. Two pages! Now, if I think too hard about all the little blips of "thirty minute spaces" over the past several months, I might suffer sudden cascade failure. Or at least start to wither from the inside out. I mean, if thirty minutes equals two pages, then half a day equals a chapter, and three weeks equals an entire book. Ouch. And the only way I can make sure that I'll continue to put this new-found wisdom into practice is by explaining my Eureka! moment to Eric, and asking him to keep me accountable. I can just hear the ensuing conversation. Jilly, did you write today? Ur, no. I didn't have time. I thought your appointment wasn't until 2:00? Yes, it was, but -- So, what did you do after lunch, before you left for the appointment? Well, I had to fold some laundry and there really wasn't enough time to -- Was there at least 30 minutes? I don't know. Seriously, there had to be at least 30 minutes for you to get some writing done. *mutters* You said you were going to write whenever you had 30 minutes. Oh, SHUT UP! Ah, matrimonial bliss. Eric had better brace himself for this one. |
About Me
I am: Mother to five stunningly individualistic children... Writer of young adult fantasy... Passionate advocate for Women At Home... Madly in love with my husband... In need of Organic Gourmet Chocolate on a regular basis. I've got a Paypal account if you'd like to contribute to the cause....
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3of my readers are feeling chatty:
I love it! :)
Eric is already on the hot seat, and only a thought has gone through your mind!
This is one of those "WHAT THE CRAP DID I DO?" things that husbands are mystified by.
The wife has already played out all possible scenarios in her mind, where the poor unsuspecting husband was cast as the big moustached bandito with bandaleers of ammunition crossed over his chest.
After the mental "OK Corral" shootout, the husband finds himself shot full of holes, and all he did was kiss his wife good morning.
Dave you put it much better than I could get away with. :)
Ironically, Jillian, my wife showed me how to claim 20 hours of wasted time out of my schedule several weeks ago.
So I could write 5 chapters a week, just following the formula that she gave to me.
Seriously I am grateful for the way my wife convinced me that I was actually wasting time to the tune of half of a work week.
Keep grabbing the 30 minutes, sweetheart.
I am so proud of you, bullet holes and all!
Eric...can you show Tom how to claim 20 hours of wasted time? I know he is truly busy, but I really think he needs a little time management help!
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