From cover to cover

For most of my life, I’ve been a bad reader.  I mean, my literacy didn’t struggle, but my patience sure as hell did.  Or even worse…I didn’t like to put in the work…over time…or, to be thorough with my reading and thus; my learning.   

Maybe that’s more appropriate. 

Short essays, not dissertations.  Singles, not albums. Post it notes, not letters.  Arias, not operas. Magazines, not books. Yes, they are all related.

In high school, unless the book grabbed me from the get-go, I chose to skip over entire sections, sometimes only reading the first and last sentences of each paragraph…AND attempted to fully “understand” without committing the time to every word, sentence, punctuation mark or theme.  If you’re thinking what I’m thinking and you are around my age, you might assume that I used Cliff Notes for this understanding, and you would be entirely correct.

Now…all of these immature actions were primarily because of my innate procrastination, not necessarily because of my lack of respect for the book, author, teacher or assignment itself.  And then I’d try to write an insightful few pages of content for whatever prompt I was asked to respond to.  Sometimes that turned out well, and sometimes not.  Sometimes there was an A, even if I was annoyed at myself for waiting until the last minute to complete the assignment.  This success often felt undeserved.  And sometimes, there was a B or occasionally…a C, because in the actual writing, I found it impossible to turn in imperfect work (especially if I actually read the entire book), and I cared much more about my “best work”, then about the due date of the paper.  I can’t remember all too clearly, but I think the grade went down a letter grade for each day that passed.  Oh yeah, I got extremely productive the night before the paper was due, cursing myself for more hours than I even wrote.

This ignorance in the importance of appropriate time commitment and thorough work ethic carried into college.  I’d wait until the last second to finish my music theory homework, awakening about 30 minutes before that 8 am class, run across campus to get to class before 8:10 am, rush through the door and whisk past other timely students to get my paper to my professor’s desk.   And more often than not, my homework arrived at 8:11 or beyond, much later if I actually skipped class that morning. 

The only problem was that my professor wouldn’t accept homework assignments past that 8:10 cutoff time, and those assignments totaled around 30% of our grade each semester.  BUT, I would still turn in these late assignments to PROVE mastery, knowing that I wouldn’t receive any credit, literally and figuratively. So…I could make A’s on every test, obviously demonstrating mastery of the subject matter, but still get a C for the semester a few times.  Yep, there were consequences for my actions. 

But I’ll be honest.  I thought that the mastery should have been reflected in the grade.  I even debated the topic with my professor more than once.

He did not budge.  There was no sympathy whatsoever. 

And I’m glad. 

It was the first experience of my life where I truly experienced consequences of not doing the work thoroughly OR considering time management of any sort. 

Up until then, I had gotten away with swift work and bursts of focus. 

And general talent that was rewarded JUST because it existed.

Music and singing came easily.  I didn’t have to put in much work, not on a regular basis.  Or maybe it didn’t feel like work, because I enjoyed it.  Who knows?  But I’ll be honest and say that the ease from which it came, was most certainly a reinforcement of continuation.

Writing feels quite different.  While it sometimes comes easily, I wonder if that’s due to the underlying passion or because it’s just using muscles that I didn’t even know that I had.  That’s refreshing.  Renewing.  Interesting…to me.

But I still write in short bursts, don’t I?  There is a continuity of commitment, but not necessarily much focus on projects that require thorough work.  Most of the time, a single blog takes about two hours…about 45 minutes of actual physical writing, 45 minutes of contemplative breaks on the porch, and another 30 minutes of edits.  That leaves about 15 minutes when I decide if it sucks or not and summon the courage to hit “post”.  Yeah, those figures are a little off. I suck at math.

But OH LORDY, the process is not over after the writing.  I’m more thorough in that part of the PROCESS than the actual composition, because I learn more about myself each time…and most of the time, I learn things about myself that I didn’t really want to know.

THAT’S the real WORK.  And it takes more time…by far.  Exponentially, unfortunately.

But I’ve heard more than a few times that I should write a book. 

Interesting thought. 

Why would I DO that?  Would anyone read it?  Who would it help?  Am I GOOD enough?

It has been flattering to hear, but also entirely overwhelming to consider.  It’s taken months of hearing the suggestion a few times to come to terms with what it would entail…physically, emotionally, mentally and spiritually.  Because I KNOW what kind of work this would take.  I’ve been writing long enough to NOT be naïve or think that I can do such a thing without massive time commitment, focus, and incredibly thorough work.  And I wonder where and how I might begin such an undertaking.

It means thinking about the writing process in mathematical terms, really.  Stay with me here.

Blog (3-4 pages of words)= 45 min. actual writing, 45 min. contemplative and reflective thinking, 15 min. editing, 15 min. summoning courage.  Untold hours of aftermath…positive and negative.

150-200 page book= so overwhelming that I don’t want to do the calculations, because that may be a deterrent.

But here’s the good news.

I didn’t overcome addiction in an instant.  I didn’t have realizations that came like lightning flashes.

I put in the work over time, and I’ve been more thorough in that, than ANY endeavor of my life thus far.  And I’m still patient, because I accept that the work is ongoing.  Truth be told, that fact was terribly annoying at the beginning.  I was even pissed off for a while.  But I accept that reality now, because I must.  It’s kind of a requirement in recovery.  I’m expected to turn in my homework everyday by 8:10, or I don’t get credit.  I rise early, so maybe 6:10.  And the class never ends, dammit.  It will last the rest of my lifetime, but I hear it gets easier and easier.  I already have proof of that, for sure.

I’ve chosen education, understanding and productivity.  Patience, time management, dedication and thorough work ethic.  So, maybe I’ve turned a little corner in my adult life.  That’s nice to think about.

Maybe I’m ready for that book.  Maybe I’m ready for that longer composition. Maybe I’m ready to look at the other painful, but also inspiring aspects of this little life of mine so far. 

I’m 46, so it’s funny to think that writing could bring about a memoir of sorts…or some kind of one-woman dramatic presentation.  I kind of like that idea, because I often have the thought that I’d like to insert songs and such.  I’m sure you can tell by the many musical metaphors and rhythmic pace of my “speech”.  I feel like sentences and paragraphs are cadences of thought, chord progressions that are going somewhere for me, personally.  And I am hopeful that they resonate with you.

I’ve made the first entry on my list of action items. 

I’m going to seek out a little education and therapy.  I figure that’s a good first step.  Nope, I haven’t had any kind of personal counseling since the 4 weeks in rehab.  I’ve just relied on a lot of reading, listening and writing.  I believe it’s been very productive, but that doesn’t mean that I’ve got it all figured out or that I always believe in working alone.

To be honest, I’m not sure I would have come to this decision without the intention to write a book or play.  I seriously doubt it.  I’ve processed much of the past, I promise.  Not only do I understand the role of addiction in my life, but I know how to keep learning.

But if you’ve ever felt restraint or a little “pussy footing around” certain words or other concepts in my writing, then you may know the reason why I’m going to resume therapy.  I feel a responsibility to understand my past and my present…fully.  And I don’t think I have the grasp that I would like.  Not on all of it.  And my commitment to YOU and the many people that I love is too important to ignore what I still question.  What I still want to understand.

So, I’m going to find a little help, folks.  And I’ll be taking the time to start now and not wait until the last minute in this life.  I know the work might be ongoing, but I’m not pissed off about it.  Geez…I’m actually excited, passionate and hopeful about the results and even about the process.

I’m fairly certain I need to do a little more learning, before I understand what the prompt would even BE. Make sense?

Here we go, ya’ll. Let’s just take a look at it all…cover to cover.