Wednesday, March 21, 2018

The Raft or The Kayak

My sons currently attend a British-curriculum school in Hong Kong. Previously they attended a local Chinese school in Shanghai. There's a million ways I could compare and contrast their experiences, but the one which is pounding us in the face right now is the difference between the group and the individual.

In America there was a law called "No Child Left Behind" in place from 2002-2015. It was a way to hold the schools accountable for the achievement of their students, as well as an opportunity to level the playing field for students from disadvantaged backgrounds. While the program struggled and has been replaced with something else, the idea of not leaving any student behind is a noble one. In Shanghai, the boys' school really seemed to do this well.

While we lived in China they attended boarding school. They were with their classmates all day and night, with only a break on the weekends to come home and do laundry and eat a week's worth of pizza. Their classes weren't grouped together based on age so much as ability. For instance, my youngest was in the American equivalent of the seventh grade, but he was in a ninth grade math class because that was the level which fit him best (even though it jumped him from junior high into high school). And unlike our experience in America, the students were actually expected to confer with a classmate first before asking the teacher a question. If you didn't understand something, the entire class was expected to help you out and make sure you got it. Working together was the way you were successful, not isolated studying for individual glory.

The experience was similar to being on a big raft on a river. The water may be flowing quickly, but the large raft filled with people was a pretty safe place. You would all leave from the same spot on the shore and arrive at the destination together.

This style of schooling took a little while for my sons to get used to. Heck, it was hard for us parents because our own upbringing said the teacher was your first point of contact if you were struggling, not one of the last. And you never let your peers know if you were slipping, how would that look? But the benefit really was that no child got left behind. You could use your individual strengths to contribute to the success of the whole group, while one of your classmates used their strengths to help you out. The whole group got the ice cream party at the end of term, not just an individual who did particularly well. And because it was a boarding school (and in China with no uncensored internet, wifi, or distractions), you had plenty of both programmed and casual time to work as a team.

In Hong Kong, they go to a day school right down the hill from our home. I assure you the transition from boarding school to having our kids home each night was far more difficult than when they went away. After so much relative freedom from their parents, it was hard to reassert boundaries or even ask questions about homework without great suspicion on their end. And it was also hard simply remembering to ask if they had homework after so many years of not being involved in that part of their lives!

There was also a vocabulary difference. We'd ask if they had homework, and for months the answer was no. I found this to be shocking! After all, they are in the American equivalent of the ninth and eleventh grades... how could there be no homework in high school? Turns out the word for "work you do at home after the school day is complete" is revision. I'd been hearing the word at the school, but assumed it meant altering, or improving something which has already been done. As in to revise an essay in a second draft (thanks Merriam-Webster American Dictionary). But according to the British Cambridge Dictionary, it means 'study of work to prepare for an exam.' Isn't it funny how two native English speakers from different parts of the world can actually be speaking a completely different language? While there was no specific assigned task to complete each night to turn in the next day, the boys were meant to be studying at home every evening for each class they had (they knew this, they were somewhat taking advantage of their parents' ignorance on terminology).

The programs they are in here (IGCSE for our youngest and A Levels for our oldest) have huge exams at the end of two years which cover everything they previously learned. The coursework they are doing during this time doesn't count toward completion, it's passing the exams at the end which matters. Revision is how they are meant to keep the details fresh. Ten minutes every day per subject vs. three days of cramming before an exam, which covers everything you learned 18 months before. Of course, being new to this, it took us awhile to truly grasp the enormity of this system.

Here we are, six months into the school year and figuring out there is no raft for our kids to sit on as they speed down the river toward major exams at the end of next year. If anything, they've been standing in the middle of the river, getting pummeled by the water and trying not to drown. Right now we're doing our best to at least get them into a kayak and teach them how to paddle for themselves. What it means to actually study, not just doing repetitive classwork or a project. It's not an easy place to be when you're 14 and 17, and have no real recollection of doing school any other way. How do you teach someone to study when the majority of their school life is already behind them?

Hong Kong, especially the area where we currently live, is not an exceptionally transient place. Many of the boys' friends were actually born here, and have attended school together their whole lives. Our youngest was the sole new student in his year, and our oldest was among only a handful of new students for year twelve (the equivalent of 11th grade in America). Their peers and friends have come from several years of practice in what is brand new to my boys. And because neither of them have ever been in a system where everything is riding on a huge exam so far off in the distance, they don't know what to expect or how best to train for that scenario. And for our oldest, with just one more year of school, he doesn't even get a chance to try it out in an earlier grade before he gets to do it for the first and only (and most important) time. The boys aren't the only ones standing in the river unsure what to do, us parents are wet and shivering as lost as well.

The good news? The teachers here are incredible. If you take one step toward them, they are more than happy to cover the rest of the difference. But transitioning from a system where the teacher was not the first stop on a bumpy patch of road, to the people my sons need to be talking to and updating and asking questions of on a daily basis is just as rough as when we left this type of school!

I confess to feeling a bit of discouragement at the moment. Every day it becomes painfully obvious how we don't even know what we don't know, and we certainly can't pass on any knowledge in this area to our kids, who expect to follow our lead. Really all we can do is focus on what we do know to be true: We are a family not afraid of failure. We are a family who has been through a lot. We are a family who loves each other. We are a family who finds a way through when it feels like there isn't one. We are a family who will figure this current season out, because we've figured out past rough seasons. We are a family that will either learn to paddle our kayaks, or we will learn to swim!

Yeah, if this sounds like a pep talk to myself as we prepare to sit down with all our oldest son's teachers this afternoon to get the honest truth of how he's doing, it's because it 100% is. Everyone I've spoken to about my fears says it'll all work out just fine in the end. And sure, that's probably true, even if it's not at all a helpful statement to make while someone is currently hyperventilating. I still want to put this part of our experience down in words and share from an authentic place that isn't always sunshine-filled days and trips to Disneyland. 

I want to record this season in a thoughtful and meaningful way. It's not just the end of the story that matters, that place where the moral and wisdom magically drop from the sky and you move on to the next great adventure. It's really the muddled middle, where you truly don't know what might be coming around the corner, that serves to give the ending the sweetness, the satisfaction, the goosebumps, or the tears which make a story memorable. 

Here's to the middle, this not-quite-to-the-end season, and to our future, stronger, drier selves. 

*All photos courtesy of my husband, who took the boys on a rafting trip in Anhui, China during the summer of 2016. All three of them loved it. Good reminder that ultimately, being in the water at all is a super fun place to be. Especially with family and friends by your side.  

Monday, March 19, 2018

7 Best Books of 2017

In 2017 I did a personal reading challenge, reading 52 books in 52 weeks, and invited friends around the world to join me.  

I did pretty good documenting them on Instagram and Facebook for most of the year, and then got behind in posting. I think I read a total of 67 books, but I gave away a stack of books I'd finished before documenting them, so I'm not exactly sure. 

My friend Anthony also did the challenge, waiting until the last day of the year to post a complete list of the books he'd read, along with his top five. He asked me to share mine, and of course I could not keep the list to five. Because it was 2017, I decided to pick my top seven. They aren't really in any particular order, it was hard enough to narrow it down to this list! I picked six books that were new-to-me this year, and one book that I've read over and over and still love. 

1. A Gentleman in Moscow by Amor Towles

I joined a book club I saw on Facebook which met in my little beach community and this was the book they picked. I knew nothing about it or the author, and I only had a few days to read it. It was an absorbing read, set over thirty years in Russia about a Count placed under house arrest in a hotel. I spent a summer in the former USSR back in high school, so the subject matter was actually quite familiar to me. The writing is outstanding and the story of a man retaining his class and dignity during the most trying of times feels fresh in today's political climate. 

2. A Man Called Ove by Fredrik Backman

This was the second book I read in 2017 and it should have come with a warning that I would be crying inconsolably by the time I turned the last page (consider this your warning). My greatest passion in life is building community, and this story of a grumpy elderly widower in Sweden dealing with his crazy neighbors shines a light on the fact that we are worth being loved and giving love until the very last breath we take.

3. Hag-Seed by Margaret Atwood

I actually read three Margaret Atwood books this year, but I have to add this to my top seven because it's a book I wanted to actually live inside, to know the characters myself, and be a part of the action. It's a story of simmering plans for revenge while putting on a production of Shakespeare's The Tempest in a prison. It makes Shakespeare relevant to modern times, something I'll always be a fan of. 

4. The Lost Prayers of Ricky Graves by James Han Mattson

This one wrecked me. Ricky Graves is a teenage boy with a secret who ends his life before the book starts. The people who knew him tell the story of how and why he got to that point. This book is really a must-read for anyone who works with or parents teenagers. It deals with social media and bullying, as well as the effects of shame and secrets.

5. The Bazaar of Bad Dreams by Stephen King

This is a collection of short stories, all of which come with commentary of his writing process and inspiration for each piece. The stories are great, but it's the commentary straight from Mr. King which really excited me. If you've ever read one of Stephen King's books and wondered what in the world goes on inside his head, this book will answer that, to some degree. 

The first book of his I read was The Stand in the 5th grade when I was home for a week with the Chicken Pox. I was immediately drawn into this epic story. It's amazing how his short stories feel just as epic. 

6. The Art Spirit by Robert Henri

Walt Disney cites Robert Henri and this book as inspiration for his creative mind. It is a truly a master class in creativity and my brand new copy ended up filled with underlines and highlights and notes in the column because every page was so rich with advice and ideas on being an original. I'd definitely recommend it for anyone who works in a creative field, but even if you don't, you will still get so much out of it. This is a great book to read slowly, though like me you might want to just gobble it up.

7. Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro

This is one of my favorite books of all time. I've read it at least five times and have lent out two hard copies of it which I never got back, so I purchased it again on my Kindle. Kazuo Ishiguro won the Nobel Prize for Literature last year and a second book club that I joined (after the first one disbanded after my first meeting) decided to read this book. I was more than happy to read it once again. This book is deceptively simple, written in very easy to understand prose which makes you think it might be for a younger audience. But by the end of the book you'll be covered in goosebumps with the realization of what has been happening throughout the book. Even though I know what's coming, I'm still shocked every time. He's also the author of The Remains of the Day, which is actually one of my least favorite books (I could barely finish it and thought it was a terrible waste of my time). Funny that for other people, it's their absolute favorite! Amazing that one author can cause such a wide spectrum of passion! 

And there you have it! I'm not doing a reading challenge for 2018 because I'm spending the year writing! Though I'm still finding plenty of time to read thanks to all the time I spend on public transit in Hong Kong! Oh, and FYI: Purchasing any of the books through the links provided adds a tiny bit of money to my book buying fund, so please help my habit while I'm helping out yours! Heh heh heh...

What have you read recently that I absolutely need to download to my Kindle ASAP?

Saturday, March 17, 2018

Talent vs Hard Work

I’m surrounded by talented people. I’m drawn to them, especially the ones talented in areas where I’m not. But not all of them are successful, at least not in the area where they have remarkable talent. Myself included. Especially myself. We all have areas where we shine. And like the poster in my high school guidance counselor’s office, success in life is not just about our gifts, but what we do with them.

Talent is cheaper than table salt. What separates 
the talented individual from the successful 
one is a lot of hard work. --Stephen King

This is the year I’m focusing on discipline, small habits being built day after day, which in turn lead to a lifestyle where success can blossom. I saw the quote above in a magazine article and googled it, which lead me to this article, a quick but good read.

It’s only March but I have genuinely grown so much already. It has not been easy. I didn’t expect it to be. There have been some challenges that I certainly didn't anticipate. But I'm embracing them and learning from them. Looking forward with great anticipation to the fruits of the lessons I’m learning now. 

Thursday, March 1, 2018


I wrote a play last year, and this Saturday it will get its world premiere in America, in my home state of California. It’s called Babel, and was loosely inspired by what I imagined was the aftermath of the Tower of Babel story.

It seems we’re in an age where we as a human race are more deeply divided than at any other time in my life. This divide feels so hopeless, and it’s caused me significant anxiety. It feels like each day brings a new polarizing event which shuts down any potential for communication. Instead people dig in even deeper to their convictions, often with a great deal of pride that their side is far superior.

Members of my own family stopped speaking to each other with love and kindness, and then stopped talking to each other at all, turning instead to the echo chamber of people who think exactly as they do for support and ammunition. I had what can only be described as a panic attack and spent four days crying in my pajamas in bed after watching people I love and admire hurl insults and hatred toward one another online. Friends of mine on both sides of any given issue “unfriended” me on Facebook for my unwillingness to draw a hard line on their side instead of continuing my lifelong passion of being a force for love above all else. Does it matter if we're right if we alienate people we love (and who love us), forgetting to show any kindness at all, speaking with vile hatred to strangers on the internet, telling them how wrong wrong WRONG they are?

I had a light-bulb moment many months ago while in the midst of despair over the current state of affairs. I was talking with a friend I’ve known for at least fifteen years. Her background is very different than mine. Her outlook on life, her politics, all very different from mine. But she’s also a mama who loves her kids. She was very vocal in her support for something I was quite opposed to (but far less vocal about). I couldn’t understand how she could think so differently from me, but our fifteen years of friendship comes with a deep respect and love for each other, and I wasn’t about to say 'so long' to our shared history. I had a conversation with her about what she was supporting, and asked her about it in the gentlest and most non-confrontational way I could. Her reasoning? She wants a better future for her family. For her kids. For her future grandchildren and generations to come. Which is a good thing, a noble thing. You can't fault that in any way.

But here’s the kicker: my reason for thinking the exact opposite of her was because I want exactly the same thing.

The fact that at the core our desires and dreams were identical, somewhat blew my mind. Our paths to get there were (and are) very different, and honestly I can't clearly see how we can both get there the way things are going. It gave me a lot to think about. It gave me a little spark of hope that maybe there is a bridge, even if it's not the sturdiest or prettiest, which could somehow bring people together if we could all step far enough back from the fight for just a minute.

My play doesn’t offer any concrete solutions. It's not a comedy, it likely won't make people feel fluffy and light by the ending. But I do hope the distance from the stage to the front row is just enough space for people to see the beautiful potential in coming together instead of continuing as we are.

It has a limited five show run over two weekends, and one night is sold out with a second almost full. If you're interested in tickets and are somewhere near the Central Valley of California, click here for more information.

Wednesday, January 31, 2018


I spiked a raging fever last Saturday while Michael was on his flight home to Hong Kong. 

I spent the last five days wrapped up in bed or on the couch, in my Christmas PJ’s and warm fuzzy socks with Nurse Lucy Rocket on my lap, while my temperature has soared between 101-104F (38.3-40c). 

"Where do you think you're going? You are staying right here! Nurse's orders!"

I took ‘taking it easy’ very seriously in light of the flu which is knocking people out worldwide. No other symptoms have developed, no sore throat, no headache, stomachache, no respiratory issues. Just this crazy fever which has made me feel detached from my body and given me wild dreams. 

I’ve been taking vitamin D3, sleeping whenever I felt like I could (no matter the time of day), and slathering myself with anti-flu essential oils. This morning my fever finally (finally!) dropped below 100F (37.7c). 

I have two observations: one, YAY IMMUNE SYSTEM! You’re doing a great job, successfully fighting off whatever nasty buggy was trying to take me down! Normally you fight for a day or two and then give up and I end up in the worst kind of misery. But not this time, GO TEAM! And two, WOW, being able to take total and complete rest for five days is the ultimate luxury, only made possible because my sons are teenagers and can manage themselves without my help, because I have a husband who will work a full day with jet lag and then still hit the grocery to stock up on edible items for our family to sustain themselves nutritionally, and because I have a housemaid (#expatlife) who comes in a few times a week to stay on top of laundry and clean the kitchen and bathrooms (keeping everything as disinfected as possible). 

I know we’re told to “stay home and rest” when we have a contagious infection (i.e. the flu), but honestly that’s almost never really possible, is it? I mean is it? Are you currently sick and reading this from somewhere other than your bed? If you’re a mom of little ones, it’s impossible. If you have a demanding job, you might physically stay home but the phone doesn’t stop ringing (and the emails don't stop coming in). If you live here in Hong Kong you have to take public transit just to get to the doctor, thereby shedding germies to the unsuspecting public, not to mention just wearing yourself out by walking to the bus, the MTR train, up and down stairs, etc. I’m exceptionally grateful I’ve been able to cocoon/hibernate/quarantine myself until I feel totally better, perhaps for the first time ever. 

However... even though I don't have little ones any more and I am my own boss at the moment (and I'm neither Type A nor a true perfectionist), I confess to feeling great disappointment that I’ve not written at all these last five days. I haven't even stepped one foot into my home office (keeping the germs in just one or two places in my home instead of everywhere). I feel like I’ve blown my very Disciplined writing streak while we’re still in the first month of 2018! Ai ya! But, as always when I choose a word for the year, it teaches me something unexpected

So I’m reframing my thinking: it actually takes a lot of discipline to stay in bed when you’re sick while there’s a lot of things to do and people to see and homework to help with and hungry teenagers to feed and a husband who has been out of the country for a week that you've missed deeply. 

But I did it. I stayed in bed so hard!

So I'm not calling these five days a failure. Certainly my immune system is cheering me on because of all the help I’ve tossed it’s way! And my temp has fallen and things will likely be back to normal tomorrow, and I’ve had more sleep in five days than I’ve had the entire rest of the month so YAY ME. Nurse Lucy Rocket is going to be very disappointed there won't be a lap to sleep upon at all times. And hopefully no one else will be taking my place in the coming week... the fever stops with me! 

P.S. This post brought to you by my phone, while sitting on the couch, with the exact view as seen in the photo above. Tomorrow I may attempt the office... 

Monday, January 15, 2018

Discipline in 2018

In my last post, I shared about how I choose a word each year as a sort of theme, rather than picking a New Year's resolution. Today I'll share this year's word, plus some stories to go along with it. Ready?

In the last two years, we've been living in what you might call "Survival Mode." We opened Disney's twelfth theme park and moved from one Shanghai flat to another (in the same week as the Grand Opening! With house guests!). Michael's contract was up for renewal which meant we had the opportunity to make a change in location (country) if we wanted to, and we hit our fifth year in China so we had to leave the country for 32 days for tax purposes (#expatlife, yo). Michael had a very frightening health scare, a creative group I'd facilitated for 2.5 years was drawing to a natural close, and more friends than usual were unexpectedly repatriating or moving on. Then we moved to Hong Kong and lived in a hotel for a month while our dog went to live in a third country for 45 days to be able to enter Hong Kong from China. Our boys, who attended a local Chinese boarding school in Shanghai, had to adjust to a British day school. And we had to adjust to having them home every night. Through all this, we were much like the balls in a pinball machine... getting flung here and there, bouncing off obstacles, reacting to whatever came our way with lots of noise and flashing lights rather than deciding where we wanted to go and what we wanted to do.

And let's be real: that isn't a bad thing, really. The ability to be flexible and roll with the punches and still get stuff accomplished each day, week, month, and year despite massive chaos is no small thing. But it does take a toll on a person's body and mind. One of the biggest unintended consequences of living life in "Survival Mode" is knowing life doesn't have predictable patterns and you absolutely have to take respite whenever you can get it. You learn guilt-free self care.

Have a brutally hard morning? Just take the rest of the afternoon off to relax and recover with a good book. Have the week from hell of appointments at immigration with no time for lunch a single day out of the seven? Indulge enthusiastically in a calorie-laden dinner of your favorite food, followed with late night snacks because wow was that hard and you deserve it. Can't sleep because your mind won't shut off after the late night call from your parents? Get up and watch Netflix until you're drowsy and then sleep all day the next day. And then do it again the next night because now your body thinks this is when you're supposed to be awake after just one bad night.

Sometimes that is what you absolutely have to do to get through. There is zero shame in that. But there may come a point where you haven't even had a hard morning at all, you're just taking the afternoon off to read because you want to. And the late night snacking is now just a habit and you're eating more because you feel bad because your pants don't fit. And there's really no point in even going to bed anymore because you know you won't sleep anyway so coffee and sleeping pills become your BFF's (not at the same time) just to get through the day. Where does it end? At some point you have to pluck the quarter from the hand of the pimply teenager wanting to play more pinball and say no more.

For quite some time I've been working on writing two different books. One is a fiction novel and the other is filled with real life stories from our experiences around the world. I haven't made much progress on either because better things (or more important/pressing/urgent/emergency things) keep popping up.

My best writing process is to fully immerse myself in the story and let it flow out of me in long stretches of uninterrupted time (I think this is every writer's preferred process). This is a great process if you do not have kids or a husband but do have a giant pile of money and someone else to do the cooking and cleaning for you. I, however, am a proud mom and wife, who has to feed my family at regular intervals (teenage boys and their ever-empty stomachs, amirite?). And living in Asia with tiny refrigerators and no pantry means near-daily grocery shopping. At some point, even though writing a book is a real, actual job which can bring in an actual paycheck, I stopped treating it as such and let everything else take priority above it. There's a season for everything, and I figured I just wasn't in the right season. My time would come and this just wasn't it.

And then a few months ago I was presented with an interesting opportunity. I was commissioned to write a play for a director who already had a cast and a string of dates booked in a theater in California and just needed a compelling script. The timeline was absolutely bonkers, it needed to be completely done with all edits and rewrites by January 1st, giving me just two months to give birth to a work I'm not even going to see in rehearsals or during its initial run. At first, I thought nope, this isn't for me. Let it go. But there was something that kept pulling me back... I started out in theater and have written ten plays or books for musicals which have actually been produced. I've sold a handful of scripts for sketches which have gone into anthologies or publications. My business cards say Storyteller instead of Writer because of my background in the theater... the ultimate vehicle for telling stories. But it is very difficult to make a living as a playwright, especially if you move around the world every couple of years. It is far easier to make money as a copywriter, which is telling stories of a different kind (buy this product! click this link!). So I decided long ago I wouldn't pursue writing plays full time, but just enjoy it whenever I got the chance to. And this was a big chance. So I said yes, even though it was more than a little inconvenient, and even though I wasn't set up or ready to devote the time and energy to it. What's a little more survival mode when you're already used to it?

And I wrote, even though my kids and the dog wouldn't leave me alone (funny how when you're not as accessible everyone wants your undivided attention).
(Actual photo of the boys + dog just "hanging out" in my office
after school while I'm trying to write. If I was trying to ask
them about their day, they'd be no where to be found.) 
And I kept writing, even though it meant turning down Christmas parties with new acquaintances here in Hong Kong with real potential to become actual friends (making new friends in a new country is not for the faint of heart).

(Actual photo of my screen taken the night I was writing
instead of making merry during my favorite time of year.)
And then I edited on the sixteen hour flight to America for our two week holiday instead of watching all the new movies which came out while we lived in Shanghai that I never got the chance to see. And I edited some more at my parents' house instead of snacking and lazily reading a book or going to see Star Wars a second time (with a stop at Target!) with my sons and husband.

And I got the script completed, edited, and submitted before the January 1st deadline, and there was never a feeling so great as knowing you did something big and saw it all the way through to the end and really like what you completed. Ask my husband if he's ever seen me happier than the night I finally said "It is finished and submitted! Now let's celebrate!" I was walking on air, and only partially because of the celebration...

As the remaining days of 2017 and our trip to America counted down, I kept thinking about that great feeling. It wasn't just about crossing the finish line, it was about making the choice to put my butt in a chair and my hands on a keyboard and spill words out onto the screen, even though there were so many other things I could have been doing, maybe even should have been doing (if you asked my hungry sons who wondered if their uniforms had been laundered). It was about choosing one thing over another instead of just going with the flow and hoping for the best.

Yes, I want to finish writing the books I've started. Or start a new one altogether. Yes, I want to tell more stories, here on my blog instead of just over at Instagram. Yes, I want to improve my writing and grow my audience. I want that awesome feeling of having completed a big project to the very best of my ability with a celebration afterward.

But here's what I want most of all: I want to already be ready the next time a big exciting project falls into my lap. I want to have deep habits of writing daily so ingrained that taking on something like a commission to write a play doesn't mean giving up time with the kids or having to turn down Christmas parties. I want to have that "best writing process" I mentioned up above whether I have a glorious, quiet, uninterrupted full eight hours to write, or whether stepping straight into that full immersion when it's literally just a single hour between loads of laundry while I have a headache and the housekeeper is vacuuming the floor under the desk I'm trying to write at. And let's get real, the second scenario is most often the one I'm dealing with, so how in the world can I make that work? With discipline.

It's not sexy or glamorous at all. It lacks awe and wonder and magic. But just wanting that "finished product feeling" isn't enough to get me to the finish line. I have to develop the habits which will get me there. 

When we got back to America on January 2nd, my jet lag was fierce. I usually only sleep when I'm jet lagged (or sick), so I crave the feeling (of jet lag, not sickness). I was falling asleep by 11:00 p.m and waking up naturally by 6:00-7:00 a.m. I decided to just go ahead and set my alarm for 7:00 a.m. (even on the weekend) to try and turn this jet lag into a pattern, and the pattern into a habit. And to use those extra hours in the morning for writing. I'm not a morning person, so it's not the most ideal situation. But using a couple of hours every morning to write is training me to be able to write under less than ideal situations. Putting my butt in my chair and my fingers on the keyboard is definitely an activity, exercise, or regimen that will develop or improve a skill. It's training me to write when I don't have a major deadline flying at my face. Every day I get up to write, I get to have a mini rush of good feeling. Even when whatever I write is lame and awful and I hate it. It doesn't even matter, because a year from now I'll be able to know more about what I love and won't have to waste as much time writing the lame stuff to get to the good. 

When I decided Discipline was my word for 2018, I thought I'd make mini goals in many categories, like health, housekeeping, etc. Discipline across the board, yeah let's do it 2018! (I'm either 100% in or not in at all, a blessing and a curse.) But as I spent time this week thinking about that, I realized that as with the unintended consequences of words I've chosen in the past, choosing to be disciplined in the area most important to me will naturally carry over into the other areas of my life that could stand to have a little more order. I know it's a struggle to get up at 7:00 a.m. if I stay up until 3:00 a.m. reading. So I gotta turn off the light by 11:00 p.m. I know it's a struggle to get back into writing a story if I only devote time to writing it over the weekend or the occasional Wednesday. So I gotta keep it close enough it's like walking through a doorway into the story instead of swimming upstream in an icy river and then climbing a wall to get in.

It's not going to be easy. But easy gets me reading too many books on too many afternoons and pants that don't fit. And what I really want to do is to write the sexy and glamorous blog post filled with awe and wonder and magic telling you where you can go buy my book. And then go out to celebrate. But that's only going to happen if I discipline myself to put my butt in my chair and my hands on my keyboard every single day, spilling words out onto the screen like it's my job.

Because it is.

And I'm ready.

Discipline in 2018.

Sunday, January 7, 2018

Influence in 2017

Each year over the past decade, my husband and I have chosen a word (or short phrase) at the beginning of the year to help focus and guide us. Sometimes the word itself comes from a bigger quote or proverb. Sometimes it's where we're lacking or maybe something we're actually doing pretty good with but we need to hone our skills in that area. It's always an adventure.

My word for 2017 was Influence. 

Initially I chose it because friends and associates were seeking my advice or opinion about weighty matters, and I realized I had the opportunity to be wise and share something positive in what might be someone else's darkest moment. That's a big responsibly if you think about it, and one that I really wanted to be a good steward of. Not to mention other spaces I occupied, such as social media, where I had the chance to hold someones attention for just a moment. I could use that moment to leave someone feeling better than they were before, or to draw attention to beauty or love. I determined to do that with every post, which meant that nearly a third (or possibly even a half) of the things I set out to post or sat down to write ended up getting deleted or never saw the light of day.

I set some private goals for how I could measure if I was having any success, and by the end of the year I'd achieved or surpassed each of them. Which is great, especially since we had an international move right in the middle of the year. But as is the case with each time we've done this, there were surprises, unintended consequences if you will, which also popped up. For instance, I noticed that in looking back over the year, I have cut out several things which were a negative influence on me. I never sat down and thought about doing it, I guess just spending my energy trying to bring a positive tone and being a force for love meant I had less space for the things coming in that were negative, so I let them go (or forcibly cut them out). I usually live so far in the future that I don't regularly take time to look back, but it's only in looking back that I can see this as the truth.

Having this word to focus on gave me a greater purpose other than just bobbing along and reacting with whatever emotion hit me. And wow, wasn't this year emotional! From a month-long trip to America in February during the inauguration of an extremely divisive president, to a move from our home in Shanghai of five years and the loss of a circle of supportive friends, having to start all over again, I will say that my emotions were all over the place. What helped with how I reacted to everything was thinking that someone else was likely watching me. And if I had even that small opportunity to show love (or BE love), or remain calm and full of grace instead of lashing out in the anger and fear washing over me, I should take it. Or like the saying about not saying anything unless it's something nice, at the very least I could remain silent until I could actually show love or grace or remain calm. I feel pretty good about how I did, and really that's the best marker as far as I'm concerned.

I'll be sharing shortly what my word for 2018 is. And like most of the best things in life, it excites me and scares me half to death, all at the same time.

What about you? Did you have a word for 2017? How do you feel you did with it?

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