On Writing and Time Management: A Dispatch from the Kitchen Sink [Plus: GIVEAWAY]
By Guest | January 20, 2019 |
Please welcome today’s guest, Leigh Medeiros, to Writer Unboxed! Leigh is an award-winning artist, writer, coach, and story development editor. She supports artists of all kinds through her coaching and story development work as well as through her online program 48 Days of Creative Devotion. Her latest book, The 1-Minute Writer: 396 Microprompts to Spark Creativity and Recharge Your Writing, has been called “fun and thought provoking,” with exercises “to help you with writing’s most difficult step: starting” by the Editor and Reviewer for NPR Music, Stephen Thompson.
We’re thrilled to have her here today to talk about the power of prompts, and the true story that became her light-bulb moment.
Learn more about Leigh on her website, and by following her on Facebook and Instagram.
On Writing and Time Management: A Dispatch from the Kitchen Sink
It used to be that our kitchen sink was either full or empty depending on a complicated mathematical equation that involved calculating the estimated mass of plates, bowls, pots, pans, and silverware, then multiplying that number by the amount of currently available minutes. If the resulting sum was low enough, dishes would be washed and the sink subsequently returned to a Zen-like state of emptiness. If the sum was too high, dishes would languish, multiply, and steadily advance across counter tops like an ill-conceived army battalion.
One day, after struggling and failing to maneuver a glass around a mound of dishes to get a drink of water, I sat and pondered the wondrous dual nature of our kitchen sink. In a flash of brilliance, that can best be described as Well, DUH, I understood that the cause of dish overflow had nothing to do with cooking and everything to do with the perception of time and how I marked it.
I had, until that moment, looked at washing dishes as one task with a continuous beginning, middle, and end. I’d come upon the aftermath of the previous night’s dinner and think, this will take me half an hour, and I don’t have half an hour. What I realized in my moment of enlightenment was that I could – wait for it – do a few dishes at a time and slowly whittle the pile down over the course of multiple dishwashing sessions. Revelatory, right? To put it in other terms (ones that may salvage your impression of my intelligence), I came to understand in that moment that sustainability relies on manageability. I could not create a sustainable daily habit of washing dishes because I had not considered breaking that singular task down into smaller, more manageable chunks of time. That lack of manageability lead to overwhelm, which in turn lead to procrastination.
Unsurprisingly, my problem with doing the dishes was the very same problem I had with writing. The larger and more time-consuming a project was (i.e. books and screenplays) the less likely I was to sit down and write. The smaller the medium (i.e. emails, letters, Facebook updates, and blog posts), the easier to execute. In my heart of hearts, I desired to get those scripts and books written, and the longer I went without working on them, the more I spiraled into a morass of shame, believing that my lack of output was the result of laziness or ineptitude. I hadn’t yet had my Kitchen Sink Revelation, so I was unable to understand how my mind conceived of and worked with time.
Here’s where the beauty of timed writing prompts come into play. These little nuggets are a Godsend and antidote. They come in the form of tiny queries that act as parameters on the open-ended abstraction of time. To boot, they eliminate the phobia of the blank page by removing the pressure of How to Start, and they help you make synaptic connections between seemingly disparate things. For example, when, say, you’re prompted to write an epitaph for an empty box of cereal you might flash on a childhood memory of sitting at the breakfast nook with grandma as she pours you a bowl of “Life.” Suddenly you’re off to the proverbial races crafting a narrative about something you’d otherwise never thought of before.
More than anything, the greatest benefits to using writing prompts is the experience of finding freedom within structure. On a fundamental level, timed writing prompts have a parental quality to them, providing writers a strong container to work within, a place to flourish. If writing in small increments appears stifling or limiting, I assure you the opposite is true. I’ve found that using prompts in this way allows greater access to the worlds of our imaginations by simply removing all the drama and protestations of the writing process and letting us jump in without fear.
Sometimes it seems the only thing they can’t do is take care of the dishes. But, hey, every triumphant protagonist needs an obstacle to overcome, right? In the words of Kurt Vonnegut: So it goes.
. . . . . .
BOOK GIVEAWAY: Want to give it a whirl? Below is a 5-minute writing prompt from my new book, The 1-Minute Writer. When finished with your writing sample, do a light edit with an eye toward clarity – but don’t overdo it. This isn’t about polished writing, but rather about the joy of having written. Post your writing sample in the comments by midnight (EST) this Friday, the 25th, and I’ll choose the one that most speaks to me. The writer of that piece will receive a signed copy of my new book The 1-Minute Writer, where you can find nearly 400 more prompts like this. Good luck!
Prompt:
Two people are falling in love – literally. Pen a short existential tale about a couple who falls in love while endlessly falling through the sky.
Good luck, WU’ers!
You can learn more about The 1-Minute Writer by exploring the preview below, or visit Leigh’s website.
Many thanks to today’s guest.
You can read more WU guest posts by visiting this link.
Italics do not come through comments….all the internal thoughts should be – just pretend. :)
Plummet to Death or Love – I Don’t Care for Either One
I cannot believe you talked me into this.
I glare at him but he had no idea what I am thinking. The grin on his face is so large his eyes look beady. Like a mole.
We are done after this. SO done.
My fear keeps me laughing at the wrong time but no one can hear me since the plane engine is so loud.
The instructor yells, “ON 3! 1,2,3, GO!
I scream now and I bet all of Pasadena can hear me.
His buttery face is still grinning. The more elated he gets causes the opposite effect on me.
The force of us hurtling toward the ground – and our deaths I am sure of it causes his face to look like play-doh pummeled against the wall repeatedly by a kid. It is not a good look. Gross.
The hate for him is in my throat for making me jump…
The landscape is so pretty from this altitude.
My heart is pumping so hard I bet I am burning major calories!
I am kinda enjoying myself.
He really looks like a big kid with his flight suit rippling like a flag in a windstorm.
My love who fancies himself an astronaut. This is the closest he is gonna get.
Isn’t there a phenomenon where fear makes you fall in love?
PULL THE CORD! PULL THE CORD!
Tammy, your title made me chuckle! I really love all your visuals and descriptions – “buttery face,” the face like Play-doh, flight suit “rippling like a flag in a windstorm.” Also that last line is great! Almost has a double-meaning, relating to both flying and the early dance of love. Thanks for submitting!
When he said, “Let’s take the leap,” I thought he meant—well, never mind.
At least he held my hand; at least he smiled.
Ah, that smile …
And then there was the rush.
And then the soaring.
“How are we doing that without a parachute?”
He shrugs. He is a man of action, not words.
A cloud slows us down. We sink through it and for a moment it wraps us in its mist and I feel his heart beating as fast as mine. Then we are through it and into the open air again, and my breath is caught in my throat.
“Shouldn’t we at least have wings?”
“Wings are overrated,” he says, “and not necessary. Besides, they would only slow us down.”
And I realize I have no wish to go slow. Not in the slightest.
Heidi, there are so many wonderful things happening here! I love how you’ve got a clear beginning, middle, and end to your story. I love the humor of the opening line. I love how you’ve made a connection between falling through a cloud and falling in love, with the heart quickening. The dialogue about wings is poetic and rich. And, finally, I just love that last line. Thanks for submitting!
Had it been Fate or chance that had drawn them up, up, up to this height, together? Was it only the dizzying thin air drawn into his tiny, throbbing lungs that had him seeing stars around her beautiful whiskered face? Was it Cupid’s sharp dart or the hawk’s talon that pierced his heart?
A sudden swoop, a jolt, a change of direction. A flurry of feathers and screams. Another winged terror fighting for a morsel, grasping at them in mid-flight.
And then she was falling. Falling! He saw her already small form disappearing against the green and brown tapestry of earth — How marvelous, his little brain thought for a moment, that the hawk gets to see this every day! — But no! He must go to her! He must not lose this opportunity to confess his undying devotion before he dies. For he knew death was coming, and swiftly, for both of them.
With one last burst of strength summoned from somewhere within his tiny heart, he closed his jaws around the hawk’s toe. He felt his front teeth, sharpened to a keen edge from gnawing all those walnut shells through the cold and lonely winter, break through, plunge, hit bone.
The hawk shrieked again. The cage of talons opened. And he was free.
Free.
Plummeting to earth in pursuit of his one true love. His ears back, his legs tucked close, his little naked tail stiff so as not to resist the wind. Because he could not resist her.
There she was, just ahead, between him and the rapidly approaching earth.
He would make it. He must make it. Almost…there…
*
Erin, I absolutely love how your story’s main characters are animals! (Mice, perhaps, though I know hawks eat all kinds of critters, so I don’t want to assume!) The opening paragraph has such wonderful internal dialogue, and I really dig the Cupid’s arrow/hawk’s talon bit – so clever! I love how our protagonist escapes his situation due to his teeth being sharpened by walnut shells. And I love how you’re playing with the concept of resistance here: “…his little naked tail stiff so as not to resist the wind. Because he could not resist her.” Thanks for submitting!
I have no idea where she came from. I’m not really sure how I got
here either, but I thought I was alone.
I was alone. Had been alone. Very alone.
But I had used the time to develop my flying skills, well, falling skills. It’s just not accurate to call it flying. I was falling, and I couldn’t stop. But I seemed to be able to fall in any direction I chose. Not gracefully; it wasn’t something I’d want anyone to watch, but I got where I was trying to get. Eventually.
Until now there really hadn’t been anywhere I’d wanted to get.
Apparently, I was no longer alone. OK. So I waved to catch her eye. I guess she was new to falling because it took a moment for her to see it, then right herself (falling or not, up and down are still up and down), and finally to wave back. Great job.
I made my way over toward her. I don’t know how to describe it; you just sort of lean in the direction you want to go. As I got closer, I could see her better.
If you’re not falling, a lot of things like height and posture and expression can contribute to a first impression. If you are falling, these are a lot less helpful. This person, definitely female, (no longer just a first impression) had dark hair and, I thought, blue eyes, and she took good care of herself. Not hours-at-the-gym-and-salon-fitness-magazine-attractive, but definitely all-the-right-things-in-the-right-proportions-and-places-attractive. She looked a bit windblown, but falling for a while will do that to you. I probably did too. Hm. Something in common? I straightened my tie and ran my fingers through my hair. I Hoped it helped.
So, I leaned in her direction. I was careful not to lean too aggressively. I didn’t want to alarm her. Strange man, unfamiliar circumstances and all that. As I moved toward her, I thought of all sorts of clever things to say:
“Do you come here often?”
“What’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?”
“Hi, I’m a Sagittarius, what’s your sign?” That one is probably out-of-date. Probably all of them. Worn out.
So of course, when I got close enough, and she managed to turn toward me, I said, “Hi. My name’s Sam.” Brilliant, right? I was going to add “Thanks for dropping in,” but that sort of thing usually gets me labeled a Smart-alec, or worse. Anyway, it doesn’t make the right impression.
I was clearly being looked over. Well, there wasn’t much else to look at really.
I can never tell what women are thinking, but about eleventeen thoughts and emotions crossed her face. Nice face. Definitely blue eyes. windblown or not, Nice hair. Nice package.
“Sam, huh? I’m Lisa, a pleasure to meet you.”
I got the impression she wanted to add, “I guess.” But she didn’t.
“Where are we?” she asked.
“I don’t know. Falling.” Master of the obvious!
“Yeah” she said. “OK, how did we get here?”
“I don’t know. Last thing I remember is stepping into a down elevator. You?”
“Stepping out of a downtown taxi. How long have you been here?”
I couldn’t bring myself to say ‘I don’t know’ again. “Longer than you, I think. How long have you been here?”
She looked puzzled. “I don’t know,” she said.
“Me either,” I said. “I don’t think there’s any time here. There doesn’t seem to be any night, I mean the light doesn’t change. I haven’t gotten hungry, and that’s unusual. I think the only things here are blue sky and down.” I pointed the direction we seemed to be falling. “That is, until you got here.”
Her brow wrinkled. Nice. “Yeah,” she said, “I was stepping out of a taxi, and then I was falling through the sky. At first, I was really scared, but that sort of passed, and then I saw you.” She paused, “We don’t seem to be falling very fast.”
“Yeah, I know, but I think that‘s OK. If we’re going to get somewhere, it’ll happen eventually, and if we fall slowly, the stop might not be quite as bad.”
“Yeah, I guess. It’s like being in an episode of X-Files or something?” she said.
I don’t know again. “Uh, Could be. Did you like the show?” Again, brilliant!
“It was OK. Nothing I’d want a part in, especially this part, without even an audition or a chance to turn down the role. I don’t know what brought X-Files to mind? Did you ever watch it?” she asked.
“A few times. It was OK, I guess. I liked ‘The truth is out there.’ And I sort of liked Scully. But I wasn’t a fan or anything. This is just so weird. And it doesn’t seem to change,” I said.
She looked thoughtful. I guess. I can never really tell what women are thinking. “Um,” she said. “So what do we do?”
“Well I know it sounds stupid, but the first thing I did was learn to fall. I mean how to stay upright, and sort of guide myself where I wanted to go… in case there was any place I wanted to go. Show you what I mean.” I stuck my hand out. ‘Glad to meet you.’
When she stuck her hand out, it immediately tipped her forward and she would have gone upside down if I hadn’t caught her. I held onto her while she got her balance, and looked away while she straightened her skirt.
She caught her breath, “I see what you mean,” she said. “OK, show me.”
It took me a while to figure it out for myself, but she got it in a minute. Tried a few things and had it perfect.
“OK,” she said, “Now what?”
I couldn’t say, ‘I don’t know again.’ “How about dinner and a movie?” came out before I could stop myself. Smart-aleck isn’t just an attitude with me, it runs bone deep.
She smothered a smile, and shot me a look. “What time?” she asked. Then, “Oh, I forgot, there isn’t any time.”
I probably blushed, “Yeah,” I said, “And I’m afraid there isn’t any dinner or movie either.”
She made a funny face, a really cute funny face. “Well, I’m a little disappointed,” she said, and she laughed. Nice laugh. “But that’s OK, and it was a good idea, just not practical.”
“If there had been dinner and a movie, would you have accepted?”
“Mmm, Maybe. I think so. Yes, definitely.”
“Even though we just met?”
She pondered that a moment. “Well since there isn’t any time, who knows how long we’ve known each other? We might have been childhood sweethearts.”
I shook my head, “No,” I said.
“Why not?
“I’d definitely remember if we’d been childhood sweethearts.”
I think she liked that, “Well, if there isn’t any time, we don’t have to worry about how long we’ve known each other, do we? I’d definitely have accepted.
“Wow,” I said, “I’m sorry I can’t entertain you, I’d sort of like to get to know you better.”
She looked at me. One of those looks that remind me that I’ll probably never know what women are thinking. And without even tipping or losing her balance, she came closer and took my hand.
“Despite the circumstances, she said, “you’re doing just fine!”
(The Beginning, Not)
The End
Bob, I love how it goes from him teaching and guiding her to her ending up being the one to reassure him in the end. I really love how you “leaned in” (see what I did there? Ha!) to the concept of falling and explored what it would really be like to endlessly fall, the way you’d move in that space, how the rush of air would affect you. I also really like the surreality of how they arrived to this place via elevator and taxi. Nice! Thanks for submitting!
I assume by 5 min. writing prompt it means that you have 5 minutes to write. As i am not fast at typing, this is what i got.
Falling… falling… falling… This is what life has been reduced to since the ground gave way to nothing. Always and forever falling. Thankfully I am not alone. You see, everyone in my town is falling together. At the moment when everything changed, we became like a family. Gone are all possession. The only thing left is the people around me. The best part of the endless falling is that in my left hand is the hand of my one true love. We were in different places when the ground gave way, but through hard work and help from those around us, we were able to find each other again. And now here we are forever falling and forever in love. Maybe, one day the preacher will float by and we will get married to live happily ever after falling in love.
Tara, this is a great example of a complete piece, one with a beginning, middle, and end. I found it to be lovely and poetic with phrases like “since the ground gave way to nothing.” I love the idea of the whole town suddenly falling through space, and how the community reunited these two lovers. The bit at the end about the preacher is so clever. Thanks for submitting!
Thanks for the encouragement. this is actually the first writing prompt i have every attempted, let alone shared publicly. I am a new writer trying to figure out the craft and i usually don’t share anything that i write because i don’t feel that it is worth anything. it was actually a big thing for me to post this. It was so bad that my hands were shaking as i typed it, knowing that i was going to share it.
I’ve so enjoyed reading all your submissions! Will be circling back tomorow to comment on all and announce the book giveaway winner!
Wow. I am so impressed and delighted by your submissions! You all made choosing a favorite very difficult for me (which I love, to be clear). Each one of these pieces is wonderful in its own way. I’ve commented on each one in that regard. After consideration I am picking Heidi Lacey’s piece. Thank you all so much for submitting. Write on!
Wow! Thank you so much!
Heidi, my pleasure! Please email me at allcreativelike at gmail dot com with your mailing address so I can send off a signed copy of the book (and also let me know if you’d like it signed to you or someone else). Thanks! :)
Funny enough, I have learned to embrace writing in short bursts, but I still prefer to tackle all the dishes in the sink at once. :P
Great post, though!