Book Project Week One Update

What I learned this week: Why Tiny, Un-Sexy Goals Beat Audacious Ones, Even If You’re An Over-Achiever

There is a reason sports metaphors are so popular. I’ve been going to the gym Monday-Friday for six weeks now. If you know me, this is unheard of. A story that I’ve been telling about myself is that I have no athletic bone in my body (I’m now reconsidering the truth of that narrative).

A long time ago, I pretty much decided that sports was just not a thing I’d be doing anymore, after my left knee dislocated three times. I finally decided to start physical therapy, and after about five months, my PT recommended a weight training class at the adjacent gym. This is the kind of gym where ex-military guys with neck tattoos hang off bars on their big toes, and my local university’s football players go for injury rehab. They have a recovery ice water pool, for fuck’s sake. It is not my kind of place. But I trusted my PT, so I started six weeks ago.

I’ve been close to tears many times, not just because I fell off the rowing machine in front of everyone the first time I used it, but because the 45-minute class was so hard that I thought there was no way I would make it through. Oh, and I forgot to tell you this was the low-impact class for seniors with mobility issues and people recovering from injuries.

After six weeks, I still walk out drenched in sweat and beet red every day (see pic above that was taken a good ten minutes after I was done). It’s not getting easier, but I am getting stronger. That’s the face of a person who couldn’t pick up a full coffee pot without shaking and just did four sets of eight reps deadlifting 95 lbs this morning.

That first time on the rower, after I climbed back on, the coach told me two things:

1. Your job is to get yourself through the door every morning, don’t worry about what’s going to happen after.
2. Fifteen seconds at a time.

He was telling me to focus on showing up and setting tiny goals.

I’m a recovering straight-A student and high-achiever. I’m prone to overwhelm and perfectionism. If I break a perfect streak doing anything, it makes me want to quit altogether. It was always so much easier to disappoint myself than to disappoint others, so I didn’t follow through on what I wanted to do while bending over backward for everyone else. I was worried about starting a new thing, because what if I sucked? What if I fell off the rower? What if I published an essay with a TYPO???

Showing up for my tiny goals

I used to despise tiny (read: reasonable, achievable) goals, because I thought I was better than that (hello big ego), and because I was scared that if I didn’t reach those tiny goals, I’d be considered an even bigger failure. Failing at big audacious outrageous ridiculous goals is less shameful than failing at making it through fifteen seconds on the fucking rower without falling off.

When it comes to writing, this means that I set a very low minimum daily word count for myself. This does two things. It lowers my anxiety about showing up, because I know I can make my goal. Knowing that I can make my goal, sets me up for success, which makes it more likely I’ll show up again the next day. Set a goal that leaves no question of whether or not you can reach it (I suggested 250 words in my last post).

Understanding that I’m only required to show up and write a specific number of words removes the pressure of writing the most amazing sentence the world has ever read. I’m committed to writing this many words — they don’t have to be profound or interesting. As I quoted Iona Holloway above, this approach helps me be less precious and more prolific. Get the words down and move on.

What made me want to stop:

• An early snowstorm made me realize I decided to write a book during the hardest season for me — winter. Not the mild, rainy German winter of my childhood, but the brutal, freeze-your-tits-off Montana winter that lasts six months, gives me all kinds of anxiety and frequently makes me depressed. It gets dark so early. I have to wear pants like every fucking day. Choosing this winter season to write my book will bring me right up to my mother’s fifth deathiversary, when I’ll be done with my first draft. I didn’t plan it this way, when I made my decision to start writing, but this is a significant date to me, in part because my mother was also a writer and understands the struggle. Much of my book will include her, so I know it’s going to be a hard and deep writing experience, especially marking the last time I saw her and spoke with her before she died.
• Having to pay an unexpected household expense that completely cleaned out the small financial buffer I’d accumulated over the summer. That cushion made me feel slightly less irrational and irresponsible about devoting time every day to my personal writing. I wanted to stop and then acknowledged that I’ve never felt financially secure in my life, regardless of my bank account, so while I need to dig into my relationship with money, for the time being, I will not let it keep me from this project.

What kept me going:

• Reading “Wintering” by Katherine May, which is calming my winter anxiety and inviting me to lean into the dark and cold and its harsh truths and unexpected treasures.
• My accountability writing partner — thank you!! Between our weekly co-writing time, texting each other word counts and writing contests to enter, and cheering each other on, she’s been a huge part of getting through this week.
• Listening to Iona Holloway’s podcast Goldmine, which is helping me go from “precious to prolific” as a writer, and reminds me that I get to “self-anoint” instead of waiting for others to give me permission to do what I want to do.

Where did my tiny goals get me this week?

Week One Stats: Finished Chapter 1, wrote 4,627 new words