For years I harbored a fantasy about my creative life.
Namely, that I would definitely produce my best work writing in a lighthouse.
Completely focused.
Utterly Isolated (except for Belle).
Absolutely no distractions.
Only the rhythmic crashing of the waves inspiring my work.
I was aiming for, what Cal Newport calls in his terrific book, Deep Work, a Monastic Philosophy of Productivity Scheduling.
In other words, I was convinced I would thrive if I could only just focus all of my attention on my passion project.
2020, however, has forced me to rethink my strategy.
Throughout the quarantine I found that my other obligations were not only endless, they were also growing.
There may be some lighthouse-like retreat in my future but for now, I’ve come to a clear conclusion:
I can only work as Newport puts it, with a Journalist Philosophy, or as I prefer to think of it, as a War Correspondent.
My new work role model is thus the astonishingly dashing young Ernest Hemingway, busy driving ambulances while writing about World War I.
In other words, in my reality now, it’s not about writing during long, generous periods of retreat.
It’s about dodging bullets and trying to get the creative work done somehow.
It’s about making the best of whatever time––hours, even minutes––I have available.
I’ve shared this approach with a few creative clients that have found it helpful.
We’re all still reinventing our schedules.
We’re all trying to figure out how to stay sane and get our work done.
Beyond this, I also wanted to share that this War Correspondent approach has always been the philosophy behind the guided meditations I create each month.
(Reminder to self: I have to steal away a few moments to record a new one next week for October.)
I keep them short because while there’s this myth that a meditation needs to be 20 or 30 minutes long to “count” (whatever that means), it’s totally not true.
Instead, it’s far more valuable to disrupt your day with serenity whenever you can (5 minutes…even 3 minutes…) rather than waiting for the time you can enjoy a mountaintop retreat.
Anyway, my subject line promised this email would be short––which I felt was fitting for the topic––and it also promised a Cliffhanger Ending.
Well, here’s my teaser…
It’s been over six months since my writing sweater vanished on March 15th.
It was on the eve of the quarantine and I wrote about it HERE.
Well, this Friday morning, I got this text from Robbie…
Stay tuned for more next week.
Namaste for Now,
