Paralysis by Analysis

There is a term called Paralysis by Analysis that refers to the phenomenon of gathering so much data and looking at a problem for so long that the resulting lack of progress or lack of a decision outweighs the benefit of performing the analysis.

I am most familiar with the term within the context of business, but it’s a problem for athletes, musicians, artists, writers and I’d venture a guess to anyone about to embark on a big decision or project.

I am there with my writing. Between reading Blogs and books on craft, I have started to write and then rejected at least six stories over the last month. The additional information I’m absorbing is all extremely valuable, but it’s intimidating and impossible to absorb entirely. Ignorance was bliss 21,000 pages into the draft novel I started several months ago and I won’t say there isn’t some salvageable material in there, but now that I’m starting to know what I don’t know, it’s almost overwhelming.

I have no sense of place! The theme is unclear! The characters don’t have enough depth! The stakes aren’t high enough! The tension isn’t high enough! I’m not saying anything new! Yikes!

Alright, that’s enough of a meltdown. I know what I need to do. I have enough information to go back to the drawing board and frame my ideas with the new insights I’ve gained. Better now than into the third or fourth revision of my first manuscript.

For the rest of the week, I’ll plot and diagram out my story, get a new draft started and I will not read anything new except good fiction so I can remember what it looks like.

It’s all about balance. Did I mention last week that’s a challenge for me?

Clearing the Clutter

I was still on a business call when the clutter in my office overcame me and I pulled all the books out of their shelves. There are three six foot bookshelves here; two in my office and one in the living room. When I unpacked in July, I crammed books onto the shelves as they came out of the boxes with no regard for the natural order of things. Before we moved to Colorado from New Hampshire I gave away all but the books I felt I had to keep and all the movies on VHS tapes. Books and movies are heavy and really, were they worth dragging across the country twice?

Where does all this stuff come from? It was chaos. Seymour Hirsch was next to Christopher Moore; Faulkner, Rushdie and the Fodor’s Guide to Northern California were side by side; Chuck Palahniuk was scattered between all three bookcases; and writing how-to books were cozied up with Updike, Robbins and Mastering the Complex Sale!

Clutter paralyzes me and I’ve fought my packrat instincts all my life. I’ve also been nomadic and left a lot of things behind.

Weeks ago when I bought Rightsizing Your Life, Simplifying Your Surroundings While Keeping What Matters Most I was ready to start right in on the spring cleaning, but until yesterday I didn’t know where the book was.

I can live without just about everything I own. I learned that a few years ago when I moved into a one bedroom apartment. I brought only my clothes, bought the things I really needed and I lived in that tiny apartment for a year. It was cozy and the truth is I didn’t need much and I always knew exactly where everything was. I had space to think.

Of all the things I’ve lost or given away over the years, I never missed any of them, except some old photos I lost in a divorce. Some years later I look back and realize losing those pictures taught me that material sentimental attachments aren’t important. What I keep in my head and in my heart is what matters.

My friend Laura’s parents moved from a large home to a condo several years ago. Her father offered the family heirlooms to his children and then carefully photographed and catalogued all the things he loved before he got rid of them. What a brilliant alternative to keeping a basement full of boxes that never get unpacked.

Part of the grand life transition plan Scott and I have is to downsize/rightsize (does anyone else find the proliferation of new non-words a little annoying?) so maybe the two of us can someday move into a dwelling smaller than one that could shelter a family of six.

It’s been six years and five moves since I lived in my tiny, organized apartment and despite draconian purges before each move; we still can’t park in the garage. Saturday, all that will change. I am on the warpath to clear out the excess.

Note: Books and my collection of every Woody Allen movie released since 1969 are exempt.

If you had to reduce your worldly possessions down to the bare bones, what couldn’t you bear to part with?

Finding Balance

People who know me well have always told me I never do anything halfway, and that’s true. Unfortunately, my tendency toward compulsive behavior is rarely mentioned as a positive trait and I can understand that. I’ve never been very good at maintaining balance in my life. Whether it’s been a job or a hobby or one of my many interests, I generally jump in with both feet to the detriment of everything else. I think everyone has something he or she is preoccupied with to a degree. Sometimes it’s self-destructive, like substance abuse or participating in unhealthy relationships. For others it’s pursuing a successful career, raising kids, keeping a gorgeous house, making money, saving money, having a baby, dieting, working out, bike riding, curing cancer or a million other things. This is probably a good thing. There are a lot of great books that never would have been written, art that never would have been made, science and technology that wouldn’t have been developed and social changes that wouldn’t have happened if not for the unrelenting drive behind most worthwhile creations.

I want to write and I want to do it well. Balancing my priorities and my obligations and learning to accept the limitation that I can’t just quit my job and focus all my energy on writing is the challenge. My job requires a lot of time, I have a husband and extended family, and the day to day chores we all have. As long as I stay with my current job, I can continue to buy more freedom by paying down our mortgage and saving, but it will continue to take a lot of focus and time from other areas of my life. I can do that. What I can’t be sure of is whether or not that leaves me enough time to dedicate to reading, writing and learning more about the writing craft to satisfy my desire to do it and to get a realistic sense for whether or not I can do it successfully. My idea of success as a writer is to be able to, at some point, work less than a forty hour week and still live a reasonably comfortable life. Am I procrastinating and trying to have my cake and eat it too if making major financial sacrifices isn’t part of my plan? Will consistently writing a couple of hours a night and on weekends be enough? Can a person really be disciplined enough to find a satisfying balance between family, job and writing? I haven’t even mentioned the elephant in the room. I know I can become technically proficient, do all I don’t have what it takes. It’s far too early to guess, but I can live with that. I don’t think I could live with it if I didn’t try.

I would love to hear from writers who’ve managed balance work, family and writing.