The blog Slab defines the ‘Delete’ quadrant of the Eisenhower Decision Matrix as “Tasks that distract you from your preferred course, and don’t add any measurable value.”
I’ve been thinking a lot about the future of this blog.
I’ve had it for 10 years now, an anniversary from back in February that I completely missed. Still, I remember exactly where I was—both literally (geographically) and figuratively (as a writer)—when I started this site.
I once told a friend that if I were ever given three wishes by a magical being, I would wish to be able to read faster.
A simple request for which I envisioned no unforeseen, earth-shattering consequences, and that I believed would genuinely make my life better.
Last November (2021), I decided to grant my own wish by signing up for a speed-reading course.
As the famous saying goes, it ain’t over till it’s over.
After my mediocre showing in Q3, with its debilitating heat during both the Pacific Northwest Heat Dome and the hot-hot east coast where I later fled home expecting cooler climes, I was determined to finish the year on a positive note.
Ah, the irony!
Having last month complained about wordcount conventions for aspiring authors, particularly the idea that their books should be as short as possible, I’m now devoting even more words to this topic.
For the past three months, I’ve been working on an R&R for an agent.
In part this has been to improve my novel’s wordcount.
What a difference three months makes.
Or perhaps more accurately, what a difference one week makes.
Is art—in particular, writing—meant to be representative or aspirational?
On Twitter, where I admittedly spend more time than is probably recommended, the issue of representative vs. aspirational writing comes up often, if not necessarily using these exact terms.
The year is now half over.
At the time of writing this, I’m also half-vaccinated.
The first quarter of the first full year of the Covid-19 global pandemic is now over.
Setting and achieving your goals during a pandemic is a delicate balance. Always with goal-setting you want to find the sweet spot between ambitious and realistic, between things that will challenge you but you’ll still actually be able to do.
Drafts of all three books in my proposed trilogy (and a single sheet of paper to spare!)
Experts are adamant that you shouldn’t do it.
When you’ve written the first book in a series that you want to have traditionally published—or rather a book that has “series potential”, to use the correct querying parlance—they say you absolutely should not write a sequel (or sequels) until the first book is sold.