Attitude of Gratitude

When it comes to life the critical thing is whether you take things for granted or take them with gratitude. - G.K. Chesterton

I admit that I get discouraged sometimes. I'm not discouraged right now, though some people would say I have plenty of reasons to be.

A large part of why I'm not discouraged right now is attitude. (and, no, my attitude isn't always positive -- but I try to make it so) A conscious thinking about the good that comes from what could be seen as a bad situation. And there's always good. A conscious decision to be grateful. And there is always something to be thankful for.

Potential Problem
I live in a town where the natives, while friendly, don't seem interested in becoming friends.

Another Way of Looking at It
I am reminded everyday at how strong and independent I am. Whether it's being able to take care of myself when I'm sick, hanging pictures, or going hiking.

I am reminded how important my friends and family are to me. Even when they drive me nuts, I love them.

I am encouraged to help make it easier for other people who move here and have no one, and reminded to do this even if I'm surrounded by my friends.

Potential Problem
My job -- what I moved here for -- is almost done, and I haven't found a new one yet. I've sent out tons of resumes.

Another Way of Looking at It
If I don't find a job by the time this one ends, I will have the time to start the publishing business I've been thinking about. I will have the time to work on my roadtrip across America project. I've got them both sketched out, I just need the time to implement them.

Potential Problem
My laptop caught a virus and died. Because of this I have not done nearly as much writing while here as I had planned.

Another Way of Looking at It
I have taken time to revisit printouts of things I wrote before I moved here. I rediscovered pieces I had forgotten about. I've revised a lot of these works, making them stronger, tighter, better.

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It takes just five minutes to think about what good could come (or has come) from a difficulty in your life. Just five minutes to change your way of looking at a problem so that you can see the positive it adds to your life.

What are you thankful for?

The Write Stuff

Write a bestseller in just five minutes!

I know a lot of writers. Real writers. Writers who write every day, or close to. Writers who know that all it takes to write (beyond learning the alphabet and the rudimentaries of stringing words into thoughts) is to write. Some of them have published bestselling novels. Some are regular columnists for respected papers. Some have been published locally or have self-published. Many haven't been published. Yet. But they write.

I know a lot of wannabe writers. Wannabes who talk about how much they want to write. Wannabes who complain they have to much to do (families, jobs, responsibilities, for pete's sake!) to find the time to write. Not one of them has written a worst-selling novel. Not one of them has a column with the most pathetic of papers. Not one of them has been published locally (at least not since school) or has self-published. And they won't be. Because they don't write.

It doesn't take much to write. Sure, a lot of people will tell you to write at least 500 words, 1000 words, 2000 words every day. Others will say write for at least half an hour, an hour, two hours every day. And to the wannabe whose excuse is that there's no time, those are nearly impossible goals to agree to stick to. That's when we turn to Jerry Cheaver's Immediate Fiction: A Complete Writing Course.

John Cheaver's primary, numero uno, can't miss rule in Immediate Fiction is to spend at least five minutes every day on your work in progress.

That's right. Just five minutes.

Okay. I can hear you through the computer. "How on earth will anyone get anywhere if they only write five minutes? Get real."

First, just because you promise yourself you'll write at least five minutes doesn't mean you can't write more. Sometimes (maybe even often) you will. But if you only promise yourself at least five minutes, you will always be able to find the time. Even if it means hiding in the bathroom away from the kids or coworkers. Five minutes is ridiculously doable.

B.^* When you spend time actively thinking about your work in progress every day -- even just five minutes -- the story stays with you. You think about it both consciously and subconsciously throughout the day, week, month. You work out problems without even trying ("Hey! Chapter two would work better at the end of the book. Duh!"). And, when you do sit down to write for those five minutes, the story is fresh. You know it. You know where you are. You don't have to reacquaint yourself with the world, the plot, the characters.

and 3.^* When you're struggling to find something to write, when you can't figure out what needs to happen next, when you're body curls up arthritically to cringe away from "writer's block," knowing you need only write for five minutes can be freeing. If you're writing for just five minutes, you can let the story go in an unexpected direction. You can let your characters behave uncharacteristically. You can play and experiment. What's the worst that happens? You later choose not to keep those few sentences or paragraphs. But maybe the experiment pays off. Maybe you get past whatever your hang-up was. Maybe you discover something amazing about your story. Five minutes sets you free.

^*My numbering brainmeats had a Paul Reiser moment.

We all have things we pretend we don't have time to do. What can you tackle for just five minutes every day?