In the last week or so, life has alternated between being so full (of non-writing activities, of course) that I don’t have time to write blog entries and being so frustratingly free of progress that I’ve held to Thumper’s mother’s age-old advice that if you can’t say something good, you shouldn’t say anything at all. This morning, though, I seem to have a little more steam, and I was looking for the link to a blogger I found several years ago (three, it turns out) who had some really helpful ideas about organizing work time.

And, as it turns out, the entry I wrote about it three years ago (click for original post) is strikingly appropriate for today, so I’m reposting it.

Here you go:

I’ve had a rough couple of weeks lately, with many distractions from my writing. I find that distractions tend to accumulate, causing inertia on so many levels it’s hard to comprehend, but one of the measurable ones is the drop in my daily word count – or daily editing progress. Usually it’s my husband who finally confines me to my chair and tells me to stop whining and get back to work, but even then it can be very daunting to get started.

Tobias Buckell posted this link in his blog a few weeks ago, and it struck a chord with me. Yes, it’s aimed at computer/software programmers, but the concentration difficulties are very similar. I’ve tried the “work for X amount of time, take a designated break, get back to work” method before, but it almost always falls apart after a few cycles because as I’m taking a break, I get distracted by something (ooh, shiny!) and it ends up being two hours before I remember I ought to have been working. What can I say? I’m blond, and not afraid to admit it.

The difference here, to me, is that John Richardson recommends setting a timer for work time and break time. And not just any time – 48 minutes of work, and 12 minutes of break. I’d argue that other combinations would work, but the point of this is specificity.

It’s easy to say “I’ll take a ten minute break” and let it turn into 15 or 20 minutes… or two hours. If I’m taking a 12 minute break, I’m taking a 12 minute break. I know I won’t look at the clock at the right time, so I set my kitchen timer, clip it to my pocket so I can hear it even if I wander over to the mailboxes, and it calls me back to work at the right time. I get 12 minute intervals throughout the day to do things like tidy up the living room or rotate the laundry, so even the thoughts about the non-writing tasks I need to complete don’t intrude on my working time. 12 minutes is enough time to do two small chores AND brew myself the next cup of tea. It’s a long time, really, and sometimes I find myself ready to get back to work before my break is done. Then I feel like I’m getting luxury time to just sit and do nothing, without shirking any of my various home or working duties.

Also, when the writing’s not going well, all I really have to commit to is 48 minutes of typing. I can handle that. I’d probably waste that time watching morning talk shows anyway, and not doing anything productive, so I might as well waste the time pretending to work. If, by the end of that time, I only have 200 words – or 20 words – and I’m still struggling, then so be it. I’ve written, and I can go on about my day guilt-free knowing it would have been horrible to punish myself by sitting at the desk trying to put together words that just wouldn’t cooperate. But usually by the time my timer beeps that first time, I’ve found my groove again and can’t wait to get back from my 12 minute break to keep working.

It’s funny how that works – how your brain can forget why you were so excited about a project, and needs to be reminded.

On the days when I’ve used the timer method (and I’ll admit it hasn’t been every day – I’m still getting used to it) I find that I get more done in general, not just more writing, and that’s a fantastic payoff no matter which angle you come at it from.

Once upon a time, there was a young couple who lived in Colorado. They adopted a puppy, and named her Shiloh, and the couple and their puppy often played in a big undeveloped field next to their apartment complex. There Shiloh discovered one of the Great Joys of Doggy Life: chasing geese. Actually, first she discovered the joys of eating goose poo, and her humans had to put a stop to that, but THEN Shiloh discovered the geese, and infinite satisfaction of making a whole flock of them take flight.

Alas, in time, the family moved away from the apartment and the big field full of geese to chase. Shiloh was sad about this lack in her life, but there were other good things going for the new apartment, like being able to see out the windows, so it pretty much evened out. And, on special occasions, Shiloh got to visit places where there were geese to chase. It was a good life.

(Okay, the third person narration is beginning to take its toll, so TA-DAA! We switch!)

A few weeks ago, I brought Shiloh to the seminary campus when I picked up Matt from class. With only one car, we often drop off and pick up, and sometimes it’s really easy to load Shiloh into the car and give her a bit of time to explore a less-familiar place, interact with a variety of people, go running to greet Matt when he comes out of the building, and sometimes, when there aren’t lots of people outside, I can let her off the leash to chase the geese while we wait for class to end.

I generally wait until there aren’t many people around for two reasons:

First, Shiloh can be very, very friendly and excited when she’s meeting new people–when she’s off the leash, this usually involves a very fast incoming approach. This often causes some concern because people aren’t sure whether she’ll jump on them (she won’t) and, regardless, she’s a pretty good-sized dog. People who aren’t comfortable around dogs are usually pretty freaked out by 60 pounds of canine barreling gleefully in their direction. Until we get that under a bit more control, I’m generally very aware of her exuberant tendencies.

Second, technically speaking the campus isn’t really geared toward dogs. There’s an outdoor patio where people sometimes bring smaller dogs on sunny days, but none of the buildings allow non-service animals and none of the on-campus housing allows pets. This is entirely understandable–many people who have dogs overestimate their dog’s good behavior (and lack of mess-making), or assume others will welcome an animal simply because the owner welcomes it. (See above for my awareness that not all people like dogs or are comfortable around them.) Granted, there’s absolutely nothing that even slightly indicates that dogs aren’t allowed on campus–many people love to see Shiloh and many students come play with her for a while, mentioning that they miss their own family dogs–but I still feel just a little bit like I should be extra-well-behaved when I bring Shiloh, especially when any of the seminary higher-ups are around.

At any rate, a few weeks ago I had Shiloh on campus. It was chilly, early evening, but the sun hadn’t set yet so in the light it was warmer. I know the Seminary grounds staff has been complaining about the geese, which are a significant problem. They don’t really migrate any more around here, so these geese have been in the campus area for several years, at least. The deterrents that the seminary uses don’t really work any more, but using new ones will require quite a bit of money invested, and that’s not really an option in this economic climate. Anyway, there weren’t many people around, but there were some geese, so I let Shiloh off the leash and told her to go get them.

With great joy, she sprinted toward the geese, making sure they all took off and were going to stay airborne, and then came back to me, immensely pleased with herself. I spotted another cluster of geese around the corner of a building, so we went and chased them off, too, then returned to the main courtyard area.

Who should be coming across the quad than the Head of Building and Grounds! I waved, since we know each other from the time I was employed there, and he headed toward me.

“Is that your dog?”

“Yep, she is.” Please, don’t be mad at me for letting her run around off-leash.

“I’d like to buy her.” He laughs, so I know he’s not really serious. “What I wouldn’t give for a couple of dogs on campus, trained to run those geese off. But we can’t, because of liability, long-term.”

I volunteered that Shiloh will be glad to help whenever she’s on campus, and Tom made it clear that we’re welcome any time. Yay!

Fast forward to Tuesday. Matt and I were flying back from New York, and when I turned on my phone after our last flight I had a voicemail waiting–it was Tom, asking me to give him a call.

Turns out the school is hosting a big dinner the night before the inauguration ceremony for the new president (who started back in July), and they want the campus to be as clean as possible. Shiloh and I have been contracted to arrive on campus at 9am and stay until a little after 5pm, and keep the geese out of the main areas of campus so the sidewalks will stay clean for the fancy visitors.

I think this is hilarious, but I’m glad to be able to help. Tom asked me to set an amount I’d like to be paid and he’ll get it approved. I have no idea what to ask for. If it’s a warm day, I intend to sit and read or write outside for most of the day, with occasional circuits to be sure the geese don’t get any crazy ideas into their heads about sneaking back. If it’s cold, it’ll be quite a bit more tedious.

But, for a while at least, Shiloh will be the Official Goose Chaser of Denver Seminary.

I couldn’t make this stuff up.

Last week, we visited Matt’s family in central New York. Once again, I took the camera and once again, I took no photos with it. I need a camera grafted into my hand or something. At any rate, it was a good visit, full of conversations and laughter and visiting and cuteness (the latter mostly on the part of our niece Tori, who is 19 months old). It was a good visit, and it was good to come home at the end.

But what I’m really writing to tell you all is that Shiloh can now (informally) be known as a working dog! More accurately, she will be doing one of her favorite things, and I will be paid to get her there and keep her under control during the one day we have been contracted for.

And now it’s time to play LEGO Star Wars with Matt, so that tantalizing tidbit will have to hold you over until I write out the whole story tomorrow.

It’s been a busy month and I think the best way to sum it all up is in photos.  Let’s go, then.

We decorated our tree on December 6th.  Pretty, yes?  I liked it:

We also decorated our windows and porch with lights, and appropriated the community bushes in front of our porch.  Viola!

And I did a LOT of baking. This is just one day’s collection, out of six or seven.

For Christmas, Shiloh got a new bone with real (!) meaty bits still on it. She also watched us carefully to be sure we did not steal her priceless treasure.

And I got a horse! He’s a bit small but, you know, we’re working in baby steps. His package dubbed him ‘Houston’, and he now resides on my desk in the office.

The next day, we used our Christmas money to buy a new (big!) TV. For reference, here’s the old setup:

Here’s the new setup, taken just a few minutes ago as Matt plays video games:

The big blue thing is still with us, it just traded places with what is now the media cabinet and is doing honorable duty housing baking pans and serving dishes in the dining room.

Pretty much as soon as the new TV was hooked up, we had some guys over for a gaming extravaganza. The boys had a great deal of fun killing Nazi zombies, and I did a great deal of cleaning in other parts of the house.

To compensate for all this television watching and video gaming, we went snowshoeing with some friends up near Brainard Lake.

For part of the time, we made Shiloh wear her booties. She doesn’t like them much, but they protect her feet from clumping snow and shards of ice in the winter, and from cacti and other prickly things in the summer, so we’re trying to get her more used to them. I wish I’d gotten video of the first few minutes she was wearing them. It was priceless.

Along the snowshoe trail, which in the summer is actually an access road to a reservoir, there were several signs which made one policy very clear:

Wait. What? No shooting, except for the people who would logically be shooting anyway. I mean, I realize there are plenty of mountain folk who go out and shoot cans or their friends or themselves in the foot, but do you really think they’re going to pay attention to a little sign? It made me laugh.

Nothing very interesting has happened since then. Video games have been played, laundry has been done, the dog has been walked. I’m trying to get back on the writing productivity bandwagon, but it’s been a bit stop-and-go. Not hopeless, just slower than I’d like.

Today I vanquished… er… assembled… this cute little table, which will help provide horizontal space that was lost when the TV cabinets got exchanged. See? Cute! Assembled! No missing or extra pieces! Go me!

And that’s the last month, in photos.