On Planning, Scheduling, and Not Giving Up
Welcome to 2021! Has everyone set their writing goals for the year? Do you know what you want to do, your target date, and do you have a plan and a schedule to make it happen? I know, I know, it goes against all ideas of “creativity” to plan and schedule your writing. If you wanted that, you’d go work in a factory. But today I’m going to show you a very good reason to do so.
Today (January 6) is my late Dad’s birthday. It’s natural for me to think of him today, but it’s also a rather bittersweet recollection. My Dad was successful by many people’s terms – ran his own company (in partnership), made good money, had a very country-club lifestyle. But he was overall a pretty unhappy human. If following the script of good job/good money/beautiful wife/nice house/nice car etc. worked automatically, he would’ve been golden. But he never got to shoot his shot to do what he really wanted to do: play baseball.
Yeah, I know. Pro baseball, like any pro sport, is the longest of long shots. But he had a more legitimate hope than many. In the 1940s, his pitching led his high school team to so many victories they ended up in the national Hall of Fame in Cooperstown. He was scouted for a pro team, invited to AAA.
His father nixed it. He was still only 17, and needed his dad’s permission to go. But his father said that he was nothing more than a big fish in a small pond, that he would never really make it, and pro baseball was a chancy career (at an earnings average of 13K a year, it was 10x better than the usual worker made, but not the millionaire lifestyle of today). And then, as now, careers could end suddenly with an injury or a seemingly unrecoverable slump. And then where would he be? Keep in mind this was an era where kids were expected to leave the house and be shifting for themselves at 18 – not coming back to live with, or off, parents if things didn’t work out. (I know, different time!)
So Dad declined. He followed his oldest brother into the army instead. He started off in the infantry, where he came perilously close to being bounced out for his big mouth (one thing I did inherit from him; his athletic ability, not so much). But someone who knew something about baseball saw him pitch at an informal game, and knew he had something. Dad ended up playing baseball in a special unit for his entire military stint, traveling to different bases for exhibition games (this was post-WWII Europe). After he died, I spoke with a fellow vet who had played with him, who said he’d never seen anything like Dad’s ability to put the ball exactly where he wanted it. Granted, these were not pro players, although some did go on to play professionally, from what I heard.
Dad was honorably discharged, and came home, went to college, and had a long and successful career in the forestry/paper industry. But he never really got over the fact that he didn’t at least try to get back into real baseball. Maybe he would have succeeded, maybe he wouldn’t (it would be the year 2000 before a pitcher from our hometown made it into the bigs).
The point of all this is: Dad gave up on his dream, and always regretted it. He chose the safe, approved, scripted route, which led to success – which he valued – but not the life he dreamed of. He allowed naysayers outside and negative voices inside his head to get the better of him, no matter how many people were telling him he should go for it. It’s not that easy to follow our dreams. We’re always going to have a good excuse to give up, to take the safer, better-traveled road. We may try our hardest, and still fail. We may achieve it, and find it’s not what we hoped it would be. But not even trying? That is the real failure. We have to have faith, even when things get tough. When it seems like we’ll never make it. When all the voices inside and outside are whispering (or shouting) “Just give up, already!”
I was lucky. My Dad learned from his experience and always encouraged me to pursue my dreams, to figure out what I wanted and go for it. Has it been easy? No. Have I succeeded in every way I hoped? Not yet! Every day I have to fight negative voices both inner (“You don’t have what it takes! You’ll never make it!”) and outer: rejections, criticism, people reminding me how long the odds are. I’ve been tempted to give up. But I’m not ready to yet. I’ve developed a lot of grit and persistence and a mindset that focuses on growth and enjoying the process, no matter what happens.
As you start your new year of writing resolutions, you may be filled with hope and energy right now. That’s good! I’ll be writing more this month on identity, mindset, and mindfulness – in other words, some of the psychology of being a writer (or doing any creative work). It’s my belief that unless we master our psychology, our long-term viability as a creative artist is threatened. You will have moments of doubt, of fear, of feeling like giving up. Make a plan now for how you will deal with them: read an inspirational book? Call/text/email a friend for a dose of support? Engage with a writer’s group or other community? Journal about how you suck and everything sucks until your brain starts to tell you you’re being ridiculous (works for me)?
I know that you know that in the writing life there are no guarantees of particular results. But no matter what, don’t let your life be haunted by regrets that you didn’t go for your dreams. It’s why planning and scheduling your writing time are so important. They can keep you consistent, even when your will is flagging. Don’t rely on willpower; rely on habit and schedule. You can’t control the outcome, only the output. And giving up is the only failure.
