Goodbye, Mr. Rooster

Earlier this year I came up with a writing plan so perfect I named it.

I knew I had to write more consistently and I knew I had to find a time without distractions to do that, so I initially thought I would write from 10 p.m. to midnight every night, giving myself one or two nights off each week. The trouble with that plan was after working all day, coming home, doing assorted chores, paying bills, walking the dog, etc...well, when 10 p.m. rolled around I was usually too wiped out to do anything.

Then came the great idea: I'd flip it around. I'd do my writing first thing in the morning--and by first thing, I meant first. Damn. Thing. I would wake up at 4:30 am in hopes of being cognizant and creative by five, so I could get two solid hours in before I had to get ready for work. It was perfect. It was flawless. What distractions could there be at that time of day, when even the bats were sleeping? And thus, The Rooster Plan was born.

Four months and a scant 4,000 words or so later, I had another epiphany. This plan just would not work. On the days that I did wake up that early, I wasn't thinking clearly until nearly 6 a.m. I was wiped out by the time I made it home from work and essentially a drooling automaton throughout family time. The characters that I want to write about--the ones that speak to me more often, sort of clamoring for their release--are generally sarcastic and witty, but they sure didn't seem that way before the sun rose. They were as tired as I was.

I said to myself: "Self, you're a moron. You couldn't wake up at 4:30 in the morning if you rolled out of a flaming bed and into an ice bath. You're just not wired for it."

I am, I admit, being a bit hard on myself. I did have a few productive days. I managed to finish a short story, start another, and edit two others and get them into the submission circle (I should get a rejection notice any day now). I sketched out a few other ideas. The point is this: I was fighting my own nature. I'm not a rooster. I'm an owl.

Writing is hard enough. It is lonely enough. The periods between hard work and (hopefully) reward are long enough. Don't make it worse on yourself by forcing your recalcitrant mind into an arbitrary schedule under the guise of 'getting more done.' It won't work.

So this is me doing two things: (1) getting the blogs back up and running and (2) saying goodbye to the Rooster Plan. Yeah, I may miss the sunrises and the way the birds announce each new day. But I'll save a fortune in coffee and I think I'll be a little more productive this way, too.

"I know the pieces fit..."

Some of my friends know that I follow the Tetris philosophy in life.

Tetris, for those that don't know, is a video game of Russian origin where different shapes drift vertically down the screen and you have to arrange them to form solid horizontal lines. You can manipulate them as they fall, twisting them to the left or right to fit them into place. Once you form a complete line, it disappears. Any gaps in the line makes the shapes stack on top of each other, eventually filling the screen and ending the game. Usually you can recover before that happens. You can put together a different line higher up, cause those blocks to disappear and work your way back down to the bottom of the screen and therefore gain yourself some additional breathing room.

Block it off, start over, work your way back.

I once thought this game was the last, best weapon developed by the Russians during the Cold War because it was distracting and addicting enough to keep the youth of America (and...um...those of us that weren't exactly young when we started playing it) from achieving their full potential. Then I realized it was a good philosophy for handling some of the disappointments we all encounter. Fortunately, my Tetris philosophy is not nearly as bleak as another description of it I found today.

Mine is simply this: Block it off, start over, work your way back.

It has been a troubling year so far--not quite on the Jobian level, but trying nonetheless. Difficulties abound, family members are going through major health crises and the four horsemen of the fiscalpocalypse are cavorting in a nearby meadow (figuratively, of course) and will soon weary of their games and come for me. Also, I recently suffered a disappointment that really knocked me back on my heels—something that I didn't know how to overcome. Then I remembered the Tetris philosophy. Block it off. Start over. Work your way back.

I know, it sounds a bit cheesy. The point is everyone suffers disappointments; you just have to remind yourself that even the most crushing defeat is just a temporary setback. The best way to put it behind you is to dust yourself off and carry on. Samuel Johnson put it this way: "Sorrow is the mere rust of the soul. Activity will cleanse and brighten it."

In short: block it off, start over, work your way back. Maybe the Russians were on to something, after all...

 

"Oh I would walk 500 miles and I would walk 500 more...."

Christopher Hillier is well on his way now, forging a new trail through familiar territory.

The Taylor resident, an athlete, adventurer and Army veteran, set out last week to be the first to hike the proposed trail from Belle Isle to Wisconsin, a 934-mile trek suggested last November by Gov. Rick Snyder.

I met him last week when I traveled to Lansing with a crew from Oakwood Healthcare for the legislative reception portion of the Governor’s Fitness Awards event. He was a finalist for the Veteran of the Year Award, while Oakwood was a finalist for the Healthy Workplace Award (with a minor assist for Canton Township’s nomination for Extraordinary Event/Organization Award for programs we helped sponsor).

Hillier is a former Oakwood employee, too, whose six-year army career helped prepare him for an 18-year career as a cardiovascular technician.  I found the entire plan fascinating.

“It’s fun to plan, but not that much fun to watch,” he said. “Once all the preparations are complete, it’s just a guy walking.”

He’s done that before. Hillier has hiked the entire Appalachian Trail from Georgia to Maine, as well as the Pacific Crest Trail, which stretches for 2,600 miles from Mexico to Canada. I had a friend who hiked the AT, and was always envious of someone not only physically capable, but financially capable, as well. You have to have all of your bucks in a row, so to speak, to be able to take that much time off work.

He said his desire to inspire others to get active took form when he saw many cases of cardio vascular disease caused by inactivity.

“If I can encourage people to walk more, I’ll be doing a good thing,” he said. “I want people to know that they don’t have to hike thousands of miles, but they do need to get out and be active more often.”

Indeed, both the American Heart Association and American Cancer Society recommend at least 150 minutes of activity every week. You can break that up into manageable bits—particularly when you’re just starting out.

The trail Hillier is foraging has not been fully mapped out by the Michigan Department of Natural Resources, but I think that’s part of his message. You take small, existing bits and pieces and cobble them together. It adds up in a hurry, and you get healthier the minute you start.