Work

The Working Desk

By / March 9, 2010

Desks are surfaces on which one piles Things To Do. My piles of things always begin as neat stacks, but the stacks quickly encroach upon each other. New layers are constantly added to the top, while the lower layers are slowly squished into the paper equivalent of sedimentary rock. In theory desks are also used as work space. I should be able to lay things out around me while I am actively using them, and be able to write notes using the available clear spaces. Usually my available clear space is about the size of a post it note and I have to slide the keyboard out of the way when ever I need to put a signature on a document. Eventually I have to have a day when I scrape the whole mess off of the flat surfaces and sort through the archeological layers of my business life. Then my desk functions as it is supposed to for a brief period of time.

Working Memory is the desk of the brain. It is the place where ideas and thoughts are processed before being used. It is where stray thoughts are organized into cohesive sentences. It is where numbers are added and multiplied. It is where images are mentally transformed. Like a physical desk the available space varies. Fatigue and distraction fog out the edges so that the working space is smaller. At these times it is literally harder to think and organize. Other things can clutter the working memory space. To Do lists, relationship shifts, and any other stress you can name all act like piles on the edges of the desk. They eliminate chunks of the working space and distract the attention.

Of late my working memory desk has been extremely cluttered. The result is that I feel closed in, unable to focus, and frustrated at my inability to process things efficiently. It is time for me to scrape the desk clear and sort through what is there.

Work:
I’m still trying to be in talent wrangler mode, but it is wearing on me. Howard doesn’t need full attention as much as he did early on, so we’re shifting this to a more balanced state of affairs. There is still lots of work to do. Howard is almost done with the RMS bonus story. Then he’ll have to catch up on the buffer, create a cover, and help with the last odds and ends on the book. I am also coordinating arrangements with 3 conventions. We’ve also gotten started on some necessary preliminary work for some of our summer events.

Family:
I’m in the process of getting Link registered for his first year in junior high and Kiki registered for her first year of high school. Both processes involve learning curves for me to hike. I’m also attempting to be more consistent about homework times and dinner times. In theory this structure will help provide a framework so the kids can succeed, which will lead to them feeling better about themselves and thus reducing conflict. So far the results have been various.

Community:
I’ve been a bit of a social hermit. All the stress causes me to draw back and conserve my energy. Unfortunately this also has the effect of reducing some of the contacts which provide me with energy. I need to be getting out more because I think it will make me happier when I am at home.

Spirituality:
I attend church every week, which gives me hope and energy. I have not been doing so well at regular scripture study, which also helps me gain perspective on the other parts of my life. This is my center of balance. If I do better here, everything else will probably fall into place.

Me:
I have not had much time for the things which matter to just me and I can feel that. I need to get outside. I need to garden. I need to walk. I need to get to the gym. More writing would be good too.

As usual, once I clear the desk and toss the stuff that is just clutter, I find that my piles really are not all that big. I don’t have too many things. I am not buried. Now I just need to get stuff done.

Stress at the Tayler house

By / March 8, 2010

Howard and I have both been pretty stressed lately. I’m not sure whether that has been clear on my blog, because I am very careful how I write about stressful things. This is not due to the need for a cheerful front to present to the world. It is a little bit due to knowing that the things which get written get remembered, and I prefer to remember the nice bits. The big reason I’m careful when writing about stress is to avoid negative feedback loops.

My stress makes Howard more stressed, which makes me more stressed, which makes Howard more stressed…etc. It gets even more complicated because each of us feels guilty if our stressed state increases the stressed state of the other. We want to defend each other from stress by taking care of more things solo. When we are both stressed, we step carefully because we know that the slightest nudge can upset the teetering emotional balances of the day. Keeping balance is critical to get the work done, which is the best path toward being less stressed. So I don’t vent on my blog about about my stress. Howard might take a quick break from work, read my blog, and then be derailed from his task to come help with my stress.

When the emotional balances become too teetering, we’ll find ourselves talking it out. I’ll tell Howard all the stuff I’ve been trying not to bother him about. He’ll do the same for me. Then we realize how silly we’ve been and re-sort the responsibilities so that everything balances better. Of late we’ve been having re-sorting conversations about twice per week.

We had one this morning. It was my turn to spill a pile of things which I was worried about, but which I was not saying out loud in a vain attempt to prevent Howard from feeling stressed over my worries. This hiding of worries thing doesn’t work so well when Howard has 17 years experience interpreting my moods. So Howard listened and assured me that it will be okay. This makes a nice balance for Friday and Saturday when I was the one doing the assuring. The depression we predicted for him last Thursday arrived a day late and in a different form than expected. What we forgot to predict was the effect his emotional downturn would have on me. Which explains this morning.

The only way out from under the stress is to keep going through. So onward we go.

Joy in Mixing the Colors

By / March 6, 2010

We are approximately two months away from 4 convention appearances. This means email has been flying fast and furious. I’m answering email about panel scheduling from Penguicon at the end of April. I’m discussing art for the Balticon program at the end of May. I’m throwing panel suggestions into consideration for CONduit which is also at the end of May. And I’m realizing that I really need to email the bookstore contact for a lecture Howard will be giving at LDS Storymakers mid-May. So far I’ve only messed up and sent information to the wrong place once.

I handle this kind of organization for Howard regularly. In theory this allows him to focus on writing a funny comic and creating bonus materials for the books. The reality is that the administrative tasks spill all over everything. We are constantly asking each other opinions and making sure we agree on how to handle the crisis of the moment. Yes, there is pretty much always a crisis. There is always some thing that we really should have gotten done several weeks ago.

This is supposed to be our year of settling in and smoothing out our process. We’re supposed to be balancing periods of calm with periods of stress. I pictured us alternating between the two, rather like people who have a regular home and a vacation home. Instead it is much more like two puddles of paint. The more we move around, the more the red gets tracked into the green and it all gets mixed up together until everything is greyish brown. Then I want to wash the plate and start over. If only I could find the time to wash a plate.

This year does feel more balanced. It is a little hard to see it at the moment because this month is really lopsided and work heavy. But I still believe the year will be good. I also have to remember that this mixing of work and family is actually one of the benefits of the kind of work that we do. Many people around the world would love to able to work from home simply so that they can be available for more family events. So instead of washing the plate clean, I need to be finding joy in the swirls of mixed colors.

A Kitchen Business Meeting

By / March 1, 2010 / 1 Comment

Howard and I were standing in the kitchen having one of our frequent meetings where we discuss tasks accomplished and tasks yet to do.

Me: So tomorrow and Wednesday are going to be focused on the bonus story rather than the buffer.

Howard: Yes.

Me: Okay.

Howard looks at me and I feel a need to justify my response.

Me: I’m just trying to figure out how to arrange my day to best support your efforts. (pause) Also I want to know what the shape of next week’s depression will be.

Howard, without even a pause for thought, says matter of factly: The depression will probably hit Thursday and it will be me stressing over the fact that I’ve lost a week of buffer and I haven’t even written scripts yet.

Me: Good to know.

One of the nice things about being married for this long and working together creatively for at least half of that time, we can now predict some of the inevitable emotional dips both his and mine. Then we plan around them. We can’t skip them but at least when it hits we be able to say “Ah yes, we knew this would happen.” Then we can just weather it knowing that the dip is not forever.

The Road from Traditional to Modern

By / February 16, 2010

For much of our marriage Howard and I split the family work load along very traditional lines. Howard worked at a corporate job, I tended house and children. I sometimes felt self-conscious about this. I knew our decisions were right for our family, but a part of me felt bad that I had been given so many opportunities by the generations of women before me who struggled for equality, and I was using my freedom to choose changing diapers. I felt a subtle need to justify my choices, to explain. There was also a large part of me that didn’t like following the beaten path, and staying home with the kids is a wide and well-traveled path for women. There are good reasons for this. Those good reasons are exactly why I chose it for so long. But it isn’t surprising that I eventually found myself wandering around in the brush off to the side of the well traveled road.

When Howard and I first began to have conversations which included building a family together, neither of us expected to take on traditional roles. Howard wanted to be a musician. He intended to work from home. We pictured me having a job out of the house. But then he landed a job doing tech support and it paid a princely sum to our college student eyes. It made no sense for me struggle doing both school and a part time job. So I quit. Letting go of the meager additional income was no struggle, but I felt the loss of independence. I felt the same loss when we merged our bank accounts. I had just begun to discover who I was as an adult, when my focus shifted to discovering who I was as part of this new married entity that Howard and I were creating together. The creation was lovely and filled with potential. Melding our independence was a necessary step. Each step was necessary, each decision carefully considered. And we ended up in a very traditional place without exactly intending to go there.

I find it very interesting to listen to myself when I talk about these traditional years. I sometimes say that I lost my self in motherhood, that I forgot who I was and had to spend effort to find myself again. Other times I say that it was a wonderful time and I was completely fulfilled and happy while staying at home with the kids. These two versions of my life contradict each other, and yet they are both true. I was both lost and found during those years. I sometimes hope that I can help friends, who have the young family years ahead of them, to find the fulfillment while skipping the loss of self. Except I wonder if the loss of self is part of the fulfillment, if one is necessary to the other. Regardless of whether it is avoidable, I do not regret any of it. It was right at the time, just as my current choices are right for now.

I can’t point at the place when our roles stopped following the traditional pattern. It was not when Howard quit his corporate job to take on full-time cartooning. He still scrambled to bring in money. I still scrambled to manage home and family on next to nothing. But somehow, as we figured out how to make the cartooning business pay the bills, more of the business tasks ended up in my pile and more of the household tasks ended up in Howard’s. There was no fanfare, not even much discussion. We had never divided the work according to gender, just according to personality and logical time-management. There was no ego to overcome in rearranging the tasks. Piece by piece we went from a stay-at-home mother with a working husband to a pair of work-from-home business partners.

Our current lifestyle is far more modern than traditional. This appeases that part of my self which used to explain my choices. But appearances aside, Howard and I have not really changed the way we assign chores. We still consider all of the tasks to belong to both of us. The dishes are ours even if I am the one washing them today. The fact that some chores consistently are assigned to one person is an indicator of skill. Howard is better at cleaning kitchen. I am better at laundry. Also hidden from outside perception are the invisible ways that I have earned far more confidence and independence than that which I relinquished as a newlywed. It has been a long and winding path, but the journey continues to be a good one. I wonder what unexpected place we will travel to next.

Recovery Day

By / February 15, 2010

My facebook status this morning declared my intention to practice a lack of ambition and to sleep. So far so good. Aside from communicating with some people via the internet, I have done nothing today which resembles work. On a normal day this would be worrisome, but I can’t even muster the energy for a good worry. I used up all my social and emotional energy for three days at LTUE and then hosting a farewell party on the day following. I loved all of it. I love talking to adults who listen to what I say and carry their part of fascinating conversations. I love inviting people into my home and providing food. I love watching group social interactions and making sure that everyone has someone to talk to. I love getting to talk, and listen, and participate.

So it was all wonderful, but now I am tired. Coherent thoughts have been sparse. Mostly I’ve spent the day staring at nothing in particular while thoughts and memories dance around in my brain. Sometimes the thoughts and memories form themselves into sentences or into proto blog entries. Then I move my heavy arms long enough to scribble notes in the book I have laying conveniently nearby. It is amazing how physically exhausting socializing can be. Notes written, I go back to watching the show in my brain.

When I first encountered this post-event lassitude, it concerned me greatly. Now I know it is simply the price which must be paid and I plan time in the schedule for it. In some ways the recovery day is nice. I spend so much of my life running, striving, reaching. I like having the experience of just drifting. Besides, by tomorrow I’ll be less tired. Then I’ll get bored and I will be off and running again.

LTUE a success, but now I am tired

By / February 13, 2010

Conventions are wonderful and exhausting. I always come home thrumming with thoughts to process. So much is packed into such a short span of time that it is a bit overwhelming. To give you an idea, I present this incomplete description pulled from the experiences of the last two days.

Attending a convention is:

Carting piles of stuff into the building and setting up a table and trying to arrange merchandise attractively.

Greeting friends I haven’t seen in months (or years) and being greeted in return with hugs.

Explaining the process of printing things in China and handing out contact information for our printer.

Sitting on a panel and feeling unqualified, but talking anyway because I’m already in front of people with a microphone in my hand.

Sitting behind a table while no one comes by or stops to talk.

Scrambling to cashier for a line of people who all want to come to our table to buy our books or Brandon Sanderson’s books, or Dan Wells’ books.

Making conversation with people who stop by the table. Talking with friends who sit down to keep us company.

Looking out over the audience as I speak and realizing that I have exactly the right words to say, words which are important and may make a difference for others.

Shuffling merchandise on the table so that Howard has room to draw.

Shuffling things back so that I have room to cashier.

Pulling books from boxes under the table to restock the arrangements on the table.

Eating dinner with friends and laughing until I nearly fall out of my chair.

Fielding phone calls from kids during dinner and trying to talk them into going to bed nicely.

Being glad when Howard volunteers to be at home so I can stay out a little later.

Driving home very carefully because I am aware how tired I am.

Finding my six year old still awake when I come home and listening to him as he tells all about his valentine’s party.

Hugging my little boy tight when he says he wishes I did not have to be gone the next day too.

Laying awake in bed unable to fall asleep because my brain will not stop thinking loudly.

Getting up in the morning and really wanting to just stay home while also wanting to go back to the event.

Having my two youngest kids wish that everyone could just stay home. Especially me. They want me at home.

Hugging them tight and sending them off to have fun at the neighbor’s house while I’m gone.

Knowing that they did have fun and that three days of mixed up schedule will not hurt them, but still feeling a bit guilty about leaving.

Walking into the dealer room to discover that Howard bought me a flower and put it on our table.

Howard coming in after his panel is over and asking me “So do I win at husband?” Yes he does.

Stumbling over my own words in front of an audience because my brain is so tired I can hardly put sentences together.

Having people come up to me and thank me for things I said on panels, I’m glad I said good things. I’m too tired to remember what they were anymore.

Introducing my oldest daughter to many of my friends because she came along for Saturday.

Having hundreds of brief conversations, being introduced to dozens of people, trying to remember names, being grateful for name badges.

Not being able to talk to all of the people I want to have time to talk to, not being able to attend all the events I wished to attend.

Packing up the table and hauling everything out to the car while Howard is busy podcasting.

Having people volunteer to help with the packing and the hauling.

Fielding phone calls from my six year old during dinner wherein he tells me small things about his day just because he wants to hear the reassurance of my voice and because he wants to know when I will be home.

Listening during dinner because I am too tired to actively participate.

Being one of the first to leave because I am tired and my kids at home need me.

Driving home carefully while trying to mentally sort all the conversations which need follow-up email or phone calls.

Pulling off my high-heeled boots and feeling my feet creak as my heels sink into the softness of the carpet. Shedding the nice clothes for shapeless comfortable pajamas.

Blogging because so much happened and I don’t want to lose any of it. Knowing that I already have forgotten things because my brain was too tired to retain them all.

Two points about being a talent wrangler

By / February 4, 2010

Yesterday I wrote a post in which I put on my Talent Wrangler hat and discussed how I intend to spend the next month aiding and abetting Howard’s creativity so that we can get the next book done. I got a couple of responses to that post which essentially said “I wish I had someone like that.” My first response was “Who wouldn’t?” We would all love to have someone devoting themselves to making our lives easier and our creative pursuits more enjoyable. But before anyone goes misty-eyed and tries to find their perfect creative-supporter/soul mate, or worse, tries to remake their current mate by pointing at my post and saying “why don’t you that for me?” I need to make a couple of things clear.

1. Healthy relationships require balance. I am willing to devote a large part of my energy this month toward assisting Howard because on endless occasions he has dropped all of his tasks to assist me. I am also willing to do it because it is truly necessary. Howard is truly buried and needs help digging out. It is wrong for a creative person to expect this level of devotion and support without giving in return.

2. Ask what it costs, because nothing is free. My efforts to talent wrangle Howard are going to exhaust me. There will be days when I will hardly be able to see straight, but I will still need to get things done. I will be putting Howard’s work ahead of my own aspirations. Even on a temporary basis, that can be emotionally draining. These are all costs that I am very willing to pay. I love the work Howard does and I can see that this is necessary to getting the next book out on schedule. Thinking about the costs of dreams is part of moving carefully and safely toward reaching them without going bankrupt.

In which I put on my Talent Wrangler hat

By / February 3, 2010

I came home from my vacation trip relaxed, confident, and ready to tackle all the work ahead of me. Then I stood in the kitchen with Howard, one of our many quick meetings where we discuss business and schedule, and I realized that he hadn’t been on vacation. He was not feeling ready and excited for new challenges. He was feeling buried under work. That was the moment when I dusted off my Talent Wrangler hat and declared it the most important hat I own for the month of February.

We really need the next Schlock book (Resident Mad Scientist, or RMS) to be ready for print by the end of February. For that to happen, Howard needs to script and draw the bonus story, create margin art, and put together a cover. That is a huge amount of work, especially when we add in the work necessary to keep the comic updating regularly. Howard can do it, but only if he has my active support.

There is a difference between active support and passive support. Passive support says “Good idea honey. You should do that.” Active support says “How can I help you? Let me manage this boring bit.” Passive support is when I listen to Howard talk about his schedule for the day, but I don’t really track it because I am tracking my schedule instead. Active support is when I hear his proposed schedule and then shape my day so that his work flow is uninterrupted. Passive support is sometimes the correct response, It has been for us for a long time, but the time has come for me to switch over to active.

I informed Howard of my decision this morning. I told him that I intended to function as a Talent Wrangler for him. He agreed that was a good idea.

The title “Talent Wrangler” is one I’ve often heard applied to the Guest Liaisons for conventions. The job of the Talent Wrangler is to make sure that the special guests are where they need to be on schedule. The Wrangler makes sure that the guests get breaks and food at appropriate intervals. If the guest gets stressed or nervous, it is the Wrangler’s job to be soothing and to solve the problems. It is a lot of work to be a Talent Wrangler, particularly since the Wrangler is also supposed to be as unobtrusive as possible.

The risk of me taking on an active Talent Wrangler role for Howard this month is that I could turn into the ultimate nag. He can’t easily hide from me, and I don’t want him to. So I must find a careful balance between the role of Wife, who must sympathize and love no matter what, and the Talent Wrangler whose primary goal is to prod the artist to high productivity. If I am doing my Talent Wrangling right, then Howard will only be aware that work is being easier and more energizing.

I really feel like we can get this mountain of work done on schedule. February is going to be a good month.

My LTUE Schedule

By / February 2, 2010

Looks like my statement that I had no events at LTUE was premature. There have been some schedule additions and shifts in the past weeks and I am now going to be part of 4 panel discussions. I’m very excited about all the panels I get to participate in. I may type up presentation notes after the panels are over. When I am not running panels, I’ll be running our table in the Dealer’s room. Hope to see you there!

Friday Feb 12, 9 AM
Paths to Publishing: When is traditional best and when should you choose an alternative.
This will be a fascinating discussion between people who have taken all sorts of publishing routes and who have been in the business for years.

Friday Feb 12 3 PM
Living with the Artist (writer): Functioning as support personnel to a creative person.
I’m really excited about this one. At the moment the only panelists are Dawn Wells and I, but we may shanghai some of the other artistic supporters we know. Since the topic of this panel is going to be my life focus for the next month as we drive the next Schlock book into print, I am very passionate about the topic. If nothing else come to hear us tell stories about our more-famous-than-we-are husbands.

Saturday Feb 13 3 PM
The Experience of writing a good blog
I’m glad I’ll get a chance to discuss blogging with these panelists. They are all excellent writers and I expect to learn a lot.

Saturday Feb 13 5 PM (2 hours)
Making a Living as an Artist
I remember when this panel first appeared at LTUE. It was about 12 of us in a room, so we just pulled the chairs into a circle and chatted. Last year it was 10 panelists in a packed room and there wasn’t enough time to talk about everything. So this time there will be two hours. The wealth of artistic experience on this panel is incredible. I recommend it to anyone who wants to pursue a creative career, not just to visual artists.