Liquids

I wasn’t very productive today. I’m working on a new project at work, and it’s early stage, the part where I don’t really even know what the project is yet, or what I’m supposed to do. I’m doing some research. This is helping me to see that there are great, gaping holes in my knowledge, but it is not helping me to fill those holes. It’s humbling.

As I filled my water bottle for the third time, I remembered a conversation from a few days ago. Actually, I remembered part of the conversation, but not the context--I couldn’t remember where I had been, or to whom I had been speaking. Anyway, the other person said that the first thing she did every day was to fill her 2-liter bottle of water. Then, no matter how productive (or not) the rest of her day might be, she’ll have accomplished something when she finishes that giant container of water.

That’s the kind of day I had today. I didn’t get much work done (because I didn’t know what to do) but I drank the water, metaphorically speaking. And I felt better about not being the only person who did nothing but drink the water. Until I remembered that the other participant in that conversation is actually one of the most highly organized and accomplished and productive people I know. There is no day on which water-drinking would be her only accomplishment.

*****
It’s the next day now. I had an opportunity to teach someone something today. It was something that seemed pretty obvious to me, but wasn’t obvious at all to the other person. She was genuinely grateful for my help, and I was genuinely grateful for the reminder that I do have something to offer other than water-drinking and blogging about nothing.

I write every single day, seven days a week. It might be too much. I read Daphne Gray-Grant’s writing blog every Tuesday, and although I don’t follow all of her advice (mind-mapping doesn’t work for me), I do follow some of it (don’t edit as you write! brilliant!) Like most writing experts, Daphne says that writers should write every day. But she defines every day as five days a week. I”m not sure that I’m ready to give up the seven-day schedule yet. But it’s a possibility. I might be trying to do too much. I might need to make some room in my brain for something other than words.

*****
And now it’s the next day again, and if I’m going to a five-day a week schedule, then I guess I’ll start that tomorrow. Or next week.

I read something yesterday, and I admired the writer’s raw honesty, but I couldn’t decide if the piece was good or not. I still can’t decide.

I was plowing through my (figurative) pile of drafts, and I found something that was much more personal than what I usually write. I thought for a moment that I should try to do more of that, try to reveal more, be more honest. But I probably won’t. The particular draft that I’m referring to will for sure never see the light of day. There’s nothing scandalous in it, it’s just too personal. And I also really can’t decide if it’s good or not.

Yes, it’s definitely time to think about something other than words. Maybe I’ll take this weekend off and then see where I am. I’ll drink two liters of water, or maybe two glasses of wine. I’ll regroup.