My black Labrador Retriever walked up to me as I worked in my home office, sat down on her back haunches, and proceeded to whimper and cry like she was in some real pain. I looked at her and shook my head because I knew the truth.
Tilly comes into my office and cries like this every morning at around 8 a.m. She’s already eaten. She doesn’t need to go outside. She’s looking for her morning treat. And today is no exception.
She’s pitiful, really, carrying on like that while I try to ignore her, but as soon as I get up and begin walking toward the laundry room, she follows eagerly, bouncing around like only a three-year Lab can do. She can’t believe her luck, it seems, that she is actually going to get a treat again this morning. Even though by now, we’ve settled into this routine, and she gets a treat every morning I’m at home.
From the plastic bag in the laundry room, I grab two duck and sweet potato treats. She’s sitting again now, playing the good dog. I instantly give her one of them. But the other I keep in my hand. When I eventually put it in my pocket, the motion catches Tilly’s attention. There’s a treat other than the one that’s in her mouth! Instead of finishing the treat she has, she spits it out and goes for the one in my hand.
I shoo her away, step back and grab the treat on the floor, offer it to her again. Silly Dog, eat this one first, I tell her. And she does, because now the treat in my pocket is long forgotten and apparently not odorous enough to catch her attention again. I laugh as I walk to my office, too aware of the treats I have spit out in the last year because I was afraid of missing the one in the hand.
When I sit down at my desk again, she’s back, and I pull the second treat out of my pocket and hand it to her.
• • •
It was week 12 of The Writing Life Workshop I was co-leading with Ann Kroeker for Tweetspeak Poetry when I was faced head-on with truth I needed. We were discussing the importance of limits in our writing lives—saying “no” to some things, so we can say “yes” to others. Like writing. Ann and I had written the content weeks ago; I had used examples of my own life from years ago. How could I just now be understanding the importance of limits in my writing life?
In the course of the workshop discussions, two different vices were mentioned by various people, ones that I recognized as my own: wasting time on Facebook and professional envy of other writers. As others confessed these vices, I saw the connection I had missed in my own life. Many nights I might spend an hour on Facebook, surrounded by other writers, and “suddenly, ” there is a hundred new projects I need to begin immediately. All of the new books, the speaking engagements, the collaborations, the contests entered and won by others seem like goals I need to attain.
It’s not that I am not happy for my friends. I am. But I could do all of these things, too.
So off I go: dropping the treat in my mouth—the writing that sits here before me—because I know there’s another one in the hand—everything else that everyone else is doing. I make lists of all the things I need to write about, all the new projects I should tackle. I visit writers’ websites to find out what else I might have missed. I pore over writers’ guidelines for agents, publishers, magazines, and publicists.
But truly, it doesn’t even stop there. I’d like to be a painter; I’d like to have a garden. I’m always looking for new recipes, new ways to please the palate. I spend time with family; I go to dinner with friends; I punch the clock at another job each day. The laundry needs to be washed; the floors need to be vacuumed; the dog needs her medicine. We have those first two episodes of Season 4 of Downton Abbey to watch.
And, I write?
I chose “limit” as a focus word for 2014, but really, it’s been my word for a long time. I’m always making adjustments in my writing life to make room for writing. Ironic, I know.
As I write now, Tilly is curled up on the couch beside me, quietly snoring and periodically adjusting herself so more of her is on more of me. Though Tilly might occasionally spit out the treat in her mouth for another one in my pocket, she rarely chooses anything over the chance to snuggle up close and have her ears petted.
Someday, I hope I am half as devoted to my writing.
Photo by IvanClow, Creative Commons via Flickr. Post by Charity Singleton Craig.
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Megan Willome says
Hi, Tilly. I knew it was you as soon as I saw your picture. It seems like you are doing a great deal to help out Charity–both in her writing life and her other life, too. Sure, you impose limits on her, but we all know that limits imposed by a dog are the best kinds of limits. I think if you are extra adorable and don’t jump or bark while Charity is writing, you might get even more treats. This kind of self-denial is difficult, but I believe in you, Tilly. Limit yourself! Do it for Charity’s sake.
Tilly Craig says
Megan – Charity is letting me borrow her MacBook so that I can respond to your message. Sorry I have been delayed – I had a busy day of napping, and this evening, I have been chasing the cat while Charity and Steve were at a basketball game.
I understand what you are saying about limits, but I know where they keep the treats and . . . squirrel!
Anyway, as I was saying, treats are good. And so is poetry. And so are you.
Will Willingham says
Megan makes me smile.
Charity Singleton Craig says
She makes me smile, too. So do you.
Liz says
This is so encouraging; as part of an MFA program right now, I am simultaneously encouraged by my friends’ successes and occasionally overwhelmed. Thanks for the thoughtful post. 🙂
Charity Singleton Craig says
Liz – Thank you for your message. I would imagine that a program like yours where you are regularly engaging with a group of active writers could create all kinds of opportunities to forget about limits and try to do it all. What are some of the ways you guard your mind and your time from that temptation?
I also know that I have to allow my struggle with limits and feeling overwhelmed to remain separate from my relationships. I still need to listen to others’ successes and encourage them in them, even if they do make me feel a little insecure. How do you balance these two competing desires?
Maureen Doallas says
“. . . seem like goals I need to attain.” There’s an entire discussion in those seven words.
Charity Singleton Craig says
Maureen – If you were leading a discussion on that phrase, what would be your first question?
I am learning a lot about goals and how to make them from Jane Friedman’s workshop. My goals after the workshop are VERY different than my goals before the workshop.
SimplyDarlene says
For me, I struggle between being the dog who is eager for a safe place to be loved, and being the lap where it’s freely given.
Miss Charity – this is a wonderful piece of writing – I didn’t read a lesson, rather I listened to your heart beat. Soft. Rhythmic. Gentle.
Blessings.
Charity Singleton Craig says
Darlene – Thank you for those beautiful, descriptive words. I want my writing to land that way.
The struggle you describe sounds like one between caring for yourself and caring for others? As a step-mom and wife, I’m seeing the extent to which those two things can be a battle. How do you navigate? And what role does your writing play?
Sandra Heska King says
I can’t wait until your book comes out to revisit all the wisdom from those twelve weeks.
I’m afraid I drop a lot of treats, and i won’t soon forget this image of Tilly “periodically adjusting herself so more of her is on more of me,” on her own mistress, compared to our own writing–emphasis on own.
Charity Singleton Craig says
Sandy – Ann and I just had a wonderful planning session today toward getting the book ready. In that time, we revisited how very much wisdom you all shared with us! As I hope this post revealed, I learned as much or more than anyone in that workshop!
And I drop a lot of treats, too. If we follow that metaphor, who picks up the treats for us? Who smiles at us and says, “Silly Dog?” I need a person like that.
Donna says
Such a great post, bursting at the seams with thoughts that resonate… and there is even a dog who hustles treats. I have one of those, too. Gruffy. A champion whimperer and a real love.
Vices… oh my, let’s not count. 😉
I have a word, too, that has been my word for about 5 years now: fearless. It’s good to keep a word for a good long time, for as long as you need. There is a certain mindfulness in keeping a word year after year, don’t you think? Of all the words to choose from, to keep that one?
I love the analogy between the treats and the vices! Nom nom nom. So off I go now, turning off one vice for a little while to focus on being fearless. 🙂 Thank you.
Charity Singleton Craig says
Donna – I LOVE fearless as a word to hang on to for a long while. I could use a little of that! In fact, living out the limits in my life can create a lot of fear. Watching the one treat get away is scary. I think it takes a lot of fearlessness to move beyond our vices, too.
Donna says
🙂 I’m thinking that fear and limits are kissin’ cousins?
Dea says
I put my time, my affections toward those things I am “devoted.” I swallowed hard when I read that last sentence. If it weren’t for kids and dogs, we wouldn’t know how to live.
Charity Singleton Craig says
Dea – That’s the truth! I’ve learned so much from Tilly from the moment she came to live with me at six weeks old. On the other hand, she’s such a goof ball. While I am responding to comments, she’s laying on the floor licking the carpet!
Elizabeth W. Marshall says
Charity, man oh man I can’t wait to read this book on wriitng –the one you and Ann are working on. What an amazing treat to have your heart poured out there.
This piece just sings of the strong and steadfast woman you are. Righting your ship, refocusing your writing life and in fact all of your life’s work. And telling stories served up in a tender way.
I am a fan of who you are and how you tell. But I think you already know that. Keep writing. It is all a gift.
Charity Singleton Craig says
Elizabeth – Thank you. You are a real encourager – sometimes even with bacon! Thank you for the way you bring metaphors to life. And yes, email away about the workshop. I have enjoyed it immensely.
Elizabeth W. Marshall says
Charity, I have a question about the Jane Friedman workshop we are both in. May I email you that question. Thanks.
HisFireFly says
A question I ask often is:
“Why do writers, who love writing above all else, do anything else to avoid writing?”
Billy Coffey offered up a true answer:
“Because writing takes so much courage”
I was struck by the simplicity, decided we needed a group (well, virtual group) called the Joshua 1:9r’s –
“Have I not commanded you? Be strong and of good courage; be not frightened, neither be dismayed; for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go.”
Charity Singleton Craig says
Writing does take an awful lot of courage. Making any kind of art does, actually. In her book, A Million Little Ways, Emily Freeman quotes Steven Pressfield: “Procrastination is the most common manifestation of Resistance because it’s the easiest to rationalize. We don’t tell ourselves, ‘I’m never going to write my symphony.’ Instead we say, ‘I’m going to write my symphony; I’m just going to start tomorrow.'”
Of course, procrastination is just one way to avoid writing. Refusing to set limits on our lives and our time is the big one that I struggle with. I’m sure there are others.
But to get past all of these things, yes, it takes courage. That group sounds like a good idea, Karin.
lynndiane says
I’m “avoiding writing” by reading everyone’s comments here…appreciate the conversation about treats, limits, and courage 🙂
Charity Singleton Craig says
I’ve done it before myself! I hope when you finished reading that you closed your browser and started writing! Thanks for jumping in on the conversation, though!
Sam Van Eman says
“But I could do all of these things, too.”
Charity, you’ve said all of this so well, but the challenge for me in this stage of life is realizimg how many of these things I can not do. It’s that whole ‘coming to the end of myself’ bit.
Charity Singleton Craig says
Sam – You know, I think we are saying the same thing. Because the truth is, I can’t really do all of those things. I could probably do some of them. Maybe even most of them. But probably not well, otherwise, I’d likely be doing them.
I’ve deceived myself over the years thinking more is better, that I can have it all and do it all – heck, AT&T developed a whole advertising campaign based on that premise. But, I can’t. It’s painful to realize, in some ways. But it’s also pretty liberating once I narrow down what I can do.
Thanks for your comment. And thanks for the discussion we had on this on the way to and in the airport in San Antonio. I’m still pondering it all.