I log my word count every day. Not all writers do, but that helps me see my patterns. Unsurprisingly, I have weekly, monthly, and yearly patterns. Those patterns depend on what I’m writing, my emotional and physical health, and my office presence.
I broke all my patterns in November. That’s because we had an international trip, I finished a book, and I had a lot of preventative maintenance. (Another word for doctor appointments.) I did learn that I have an easy-to-address form of skin cancer, so I will now be a Hat Lady. Otherwise, I’m totally fine (modulo my handicaps).
That’s when I realized several things:
- I rarely write on vacation. (That’s fine. It’s vacation.) I read even more.
- When I’m deep into finishing a project, I do not make time for anything else. Mostly because I have so little finishing energy. I know this, so I focus on finishing—a pattern I created decades ago.
- My current skin is “paying for” my younger self’s sunburns. (We didn’t even know about SPF back then!)
I didn’t want to discuss patterns as “good” or “bad.” They might be more or less useful. But they are just patterns. We can change them at will.
Since we cannot yet time travel, we have to change our patterns in the present to achieve what we want in the future.
That’s why seeing my patterns helps me so much.
How Much of You Remains from the Past?
I read Daniel’s Starting Again, and realized I keep, change, and create new patterns all the time. While I’m not sourdough starter, I am not the same person I was even just five years ago. My essence remains, but I change patterns to become more of the person I want to be.
Back when I only read paper books, I had to limit the number of books I brought with me on vacation. Now that I use an e-reader, I have essentially no limit on the number of books I can read. (Yay!) My reading pattern changed.
Since I continue to struggle with finishing energy, I now have a rule: I cannot start any new writing more significant than a blog post when I’m finishing a book. That used to be a guideline, but now that leanpub has changed what they offer, I can change my process and make this a rule.
And, while I can’t return to a time that created any physical problems, I can adapt and change how I react to them now. My vertigo is never going to go away, so I use a rollator. And I will wear hats so I can reduce my chances of any other skin cancer. (I can barely wait to buy some!)
As we age, we replace our cells and change physically. We often can’t choose how to do that.
But we can learn to see our patterns and change the less useful patterns with more useful patterns. That’s how I discovered my writing patterns in the first place.
That’s the question this week: How do you see your more or less useful patterns change over time?
Johanna, I loved reading what you wrote. If you haven’t read them yet, I strongly recommend you get your hands on “S.” by Doug Dorst, and “Chimera” by John Barth. Both books present the metaphysical shifts we experience as we live out our lives.
In the case of “S.” the question that drives the book is directly related to the paradox of Theseus’ ship. The paradox is that as the shipwrights performed the necessary repairs on the ship in the years after Theseus returned to Athens from Crete, replacing beams as they rotted, sails that disintegrated in the wind, and rusting nails, and painting and sealing the hull with fresh pitch, it occurred to somebody that although it still looked exactly like Theseus’ ship, the one they were maintaining had been so extensively repaired that every part of it was brand new, so how could it be the same ship, since it had actually never been anywhere near the water?
“Chimera” is a post-modernist romp through a three-part examination of a writer’s life, each part of which while connected to the others, can also exist independently.
I believe that when we cease to change — achieving stasis — that is exactly the moment when we begin to die.
Marsha, thanks. I have not yet read those books. TBH, I tend to stay away from literary fiction. I find it difficult to read. (Sometimes, for the topic, but almost always for the language.)
I agree with you that achieving stasis is not optimal. The more we experiment and learn, the better we can live. As for your note that when we achieve stasis we start to die—I suspect that’s what happens when people retire from work and not to anything else.