How To Do Something New

How To Do Something New

I recently mentioned that the weekly podcast I do with a friend reached its 25th episode. If you’ve read anything here or on The Juggling Writer, you know I write and juggle. I like photography, hiking, canoeing, and many other things as well.

And I do these things because I simply started doing them.

Don’t Begin with an Excuse

I’ve met people at jobs, at conferences — even in line at the grocery store — who are terrified to try new things. If they aren’t terrified, they still try talking themselves out of trying something new for a variety of reasons.

It’s sad that so many people begin with an excuse.

Old Tennis Balls

Juggling’s not necessarily an expensive hobby, but some of the props aren’t cheap — especially when you begin juggling many things. I’m sure I’ve spent well over $1,000 on juggling props over the years. But that spring day in 1981 then I taught myself how to juggle, it was with three used tennis balls found around tennis courts in the park behind my house.

It cost me nothing to get started doing one of the things I love most in my life.

Podcasting on the Cheap

I look forward to the day Shawn and I get better gear for the Men in Gorilla Suits podcast and we sound like a radio show, but if we went into it feeling like we needed to build a full-blown recording studio, we’d probably never have started. We record using my Zoom H2n recorder as the main sound, with Shawn’s Zoom ZH1 as backup
.

Shawn’s recorder cost about 100 bucks. My recorder — about $175.

Zoom Recorders

The Exceptions

When I talk about things in this manner, people sometimes say, “Well, if you were trying to get into racing cars or yachting, you couldn’t afford it!”

If I wanted to race F1 cars or command a huge sailing yacht — true — it would be long odds that I’d see myself do either regularly. But…I know a guy who races his VW Golf on parking lot tracks made with traffic cones — and a small sailboat for one or two people isn’t out of financial reach for many people. So there are even ways around the exceptions.

Where There’s a Will…

Sure, “Where there’s a will, there’s a way,” is a cliché, but it’s with good reason: it’s true! If you want to do something badly enough, you find a way to do it.

I like photography, but more expensive gear is out of my budget. Thing is, I’ve taken photos good enough to sell with articles I’ve written using $100 cameras. The best camera in my bag (a Nikon Coolpix P7100) can be had for $350. I’ve seen people take photos with pinhole cameras they made out of recycled material that I liked more than images captured with cameras worth thousands.

Most of us aren’t planning to buy our own LearJet and learn to fly; most of us want to do something that’s within our reach on some level. It may not be the ideal start due to budget or time restraints, but it’s not impossible unless you believe it is.

Still not convinced? Watch this:

Holding On? Try Letting Go

Holding On? Try Letting Go

I’m working on a project at my day job (technical writing) that goes a little something like this: we’re reducing the length of our documentation.

It’s not the easiest thing for us — we’ve all been technical writers long enough that it can be hard to let go of the way we’ve done things for years. But it’s important to trust the training staff and users to not have to remind everyone of where the Save button is on the screen, when what matters is that the user already knows how to save changes they made to things.

The Holdout

I’ve worked other places where the holdouts have final say. You can do a usability study on a group, and 99.99% of the people say they’d prefer things to be a certain way, but the one person who’s done things a certain way for decades shouts, “WE MUST CONTINUE THE OLD WAYS!!!”

This is the person who waits four months for the one thing overlooked out of thousands to bellow, “I TOLD YOU SO!!!”

Right Just Once (Is Enough for Them!)

That one thing — the .001% wrong out of all you improved — becomes their day. No, it becomes their week — their reason to be!

It’s a thing etched in their minds until the end, something allowing them to refer to that time “We upgraded our documentation’ and this thing I was concerned about? It came TRUE!!!”

These are the people who will lie on their deathbeds thinking, “Man, I was RIGHT! … that .001% out of a majority of documentation that was vastly improved because even the Old Guard [of which I just might belong] said, ‘Ya know…if more than 99.99% of the people we asked want it this way, we’ll do that — because it’s documentation for THEM — not for US!!!'”

We’re All Often Holdouts

Taking it a step further, we’re all often holdouts. We get used to things, and we want them to stay the way we’re most comfortable with — even if times have changed and methods have improved
. I’m sure most of us have those few things we hold on to — no matter what — instead of letting go.

You may “lose” a tug of war by letting go of the rope, but it sure is funny to watch people fall on their asses. Or, better yet — gain a new sense of confidence that reminds us all that sometimes fixating on our grip is a sure-fire way to end up blistered or simply defeated by a stronger team.

Making Do

Making Do

My wife is an artist. Since moving into our apartment years ago, she really hasn’t done much art. We are very limited on space. (Being on the second floor, I don’t juggle as much, either.)

It would be really easy to not do much at all in our one-bedroom apartment. And yet, we make do. (Because really, we have it good — even in our small space…)

Always Art

My wife and I met in 1992, when we both worked at a tiny independent comic book company. She always had an art table set up…until we moved into the apartment. Her other big creative endeavor is sewing historical costumes. When she shifted her focus to sewing, her old art table went into our storage closet on the balcony.

That always bothered me because I knew her as an artist before I knew her as anything. She knew my writing before she knew me. So…there was a bit of sting in my gut the day she put her art table up. And…a bit of an excitement in my heart when I saw her pull her table out of storage.

Ideal Conditions (Are Overrated)

Sometimes the ideal conditions don’t exist. I’ll go as far as saying for most of us, ideal conditions don’t exist.

Cynthia’s art table is in the living room, right in front of the fireplace. She sits on a little cube storage cube when she draws. No side table for her ink…she wheels out a cart full of fabric and sets ink on it, hoping for no spills because fabric can be expensive. The lighting isn’t ideal. The spot is in the noisiest part of the apartment.

Yet, in this less-than-ideal spot — after years of not doing art — her second piece since her return looks like this:


Thorin Oakenshield: Weight of the World by ~cfgriffith on deviantART

Making Do With What You Have…

The image above doesn’t do the piece justice
. My wife’s old scanner is not compatible with any of our current computers, so she had to take a quick photo. The lighting in the spot is poor, and the camera — while decent — isn’t going to get the best image.

But that’s what you do when making do…

And moving forward…

You Don’t Have to Have an Opinion (About Everything)

You Don’t Have to Have an Opinion (About Everything)

I once worked with someone who was asked what they thought about a particular news story at the time. Their answer was simple and direct:

“I don’t care about that.”

It was a topic deemed important by most of the people in the room — myself included. It would be fair to say we were taken aback by the reply. Some of us commented on how clueless the person was, and others said it was sad that the person had nothing to say about the topic. Yes, we judged this person for not having an opinion about this news story — and some others. Sure, make the argument that an adult should know certain things…make whatever argument you want, but the fact still stands: we were assholes.

As adults, like it or not, we get to call our own shots
. Want to play video games all day? Your call. Want to juggle, take photos, watch movies, whatever — instead of tracking what’s happening in Syria…who am I to tell you that you shouldn’t?

I can now see that there’s something to be said for the honesty in saying, “I don’t care about that…”

A Matter of Priority

That moment at work was the first time I remember thinking, “What if this news story the rest of us deem important — maybe even vital — really means nothing?”

When I really think about it, I can think of only a handful of things deemed “important” that actually affected my life. Not to sound like it’s all about me…I believe it’s important to be informed of what’s going on in the world, if for no other reason than to keep a sense of compassion for others. So even though I make a conscious effort to not watch the news, I’m  informed.

Still…

Why I Refuse to Let You Steal My Time!

I don’t post anything political on my social media sites. Not because I’m not interested, but because it’s such a time suck. (That, and I respect friends with other viewpoints and don’t want to upset them, even though it’s “my right!” It’s also their right to drop me from their feed if I’m an asshole.) For me, it’s really a matter of priority: hours spent “debating” online becomes hours I could have spent writing. Hours spent watching 24-hour “news” stations is time I could have spent with my wife. Hours spent arguing in person is time I could have spent in the company of someone I really like, talking about the things that matter most to us.

When I look at it that way, I have an odd respect for the person who proclaimed, “I don’t care about that…”

This Weekend

It’s almost the weekend, and I have some ideas for things I plan to do. I will enjoy my time — even any time spent online because these days, I don’t feel the need to chime in with my opinion on things (or even drop a carpet bombing of facts when necessary to show how I came to my conclusion). I’m so much happier not feeling the need to be able to talk about everything just because it’s expected of us. Why be a jack of all chats and talk about everything when you can talk about the things that really matter to you and those around you?

I look at it like this: Sunday night, how do I want to remember my weekend…going out and doing things I enjoyed and relaxing, or spending time online arguing? Unless I truly loved throwing my opinion online for hours, choosing the latter option is a waste of time.

At the end of my weekend…at the end of my life…I want to remember the productive and happy moments — not the moments arguing with someone I respect, someone I once respected, or even worse: some asshole for whom I have no respect at all…

I don’t care about that!

How to Create a Body of Work

How to Create a Body of Work

Yesterday I posted the 25th episode of the weekly podcast I work on, Men in Gorilla Suits. It’s not a huge milestone, but it’s still 25 weekly episodes…on top of the writing and other things I do. The person with whom I do the show is also busy. Yesterday’s show represents the beginning of a body of work…

Making Things

Making things is often its own reward. Most novelists have written a novel or five that went nowhere before finally breaking in. My wife is an artist, and I can’t tell you how many pages and canvases she’s filled over the years, but I know this: one day she threw away a huge garbage bag full of art (sketches and finished work) because she was tired of the clutter.

For me, all the pages I stack up eventually becomes a novel or a technical manual. It’s not much different than when I worked in factories and warehouses — when the day began with empty bins and eventually overflowed with what we made. Once we had enough full bins, we loaded them on trucks that filled other warehouses…before going off to fill shelves in stores.

The Importance of Piles

I’ve known people who provided heat to their home with wood burning stoves. A tree would come down and be cut into smaller pieces — then it came time to go out back and split those pieces into smaller pieces and pile it up for winter.

It’s not much different than making podcasts, painting, or recording songs. The work is more physical, but the act of making piles is the same. Cut enough wood, and you have enough for winter. Record enough songs (work) and you can fill an album. Record enough albums and people will eventually argue over which one is best. It doesn’t happen with just 2 – 3 albums though, it comes with a body of work
.

It comes with making piles…

For the Love of Drudgery

Writing isn’t always fun. What I mean is it’s not always an inspired act. (I find even the drudgery fun.) More times than not, it’s like chopping wood. It’s repetitive.

It’s repetitive.

It’s repetitive…

Sometimes the logs are stubborn and take extra work to reduce into smaller pieces for your stove or hearth. Some mornings you just want to sleep in and ignore the wood pile. Other days you think, “Not again…”

Some mornings the words don’t flow. Some mornings I just want to sleep in and not write. Some days I really do think, “Not again…”

But in that drudgery comes something remarkable: something bigger taking shape. Knowing that in the end I will have a finished book, I keep at it. The times I’ve helped friends chop wood, fill a barn with hay, or do other hard work, there was always a certain satisfaction as the light of the day faded and I knew I was a part of something bigger than me.

Sustaining Work

There’s something nice about a big pile of wood ready to provide heat. There’s a satisfaction in knowing you worked hard to make sure you’ll be warm all winter. There’s a warmth that comes with finishing something that may not have been all fun in its creation. In the end, though, the slog is rewarded by something finished.

Cutting joints for drawers isn’t the most exciting task, but when you have enough drawers to fill the dresser you made by hand, it’s worth it. All those hours of practicing a song on an instrument eventually results in a perfect run through something truly beautiful. Getting up early for a run creates a body more open to running and the reward of health. The effort of it all sustains us. And when something sustains us, like the changing of seasons and the need to chop more wood, it’s a never-ending cycle that — over time — results in something wonderful.

It’s called a body of work for a reason: it takes effort. But it’s more than worth it once you look back over the years at a huge body of work you may have never believed you’d create had you not actually done it.

The Mountaintop at Home

The Mountaintop at Home

I’ve been fortunate to see some cool places. America is a big space, and I’ve been to each side of the country and seen much of what’s in between. Living in Texas, there are coastlines and forests — hills, mountains, and even the second largest canyon in the United States. Big places with scenery that can change a person.

It can be easy to crave open places like that…to the point that I know people who are not happy unless they are going somewhere big to make their everyday lives not feel so small…

Hell, I’ve been that very person…

Reading on a Mountaintop

I read a great piece written by Jack Cheng about feeling like you have to do certain things in certain places. You must feel a certain way or do certain things, based on where you are at the moment. The gist of the piece for those who skip it is that we feel things like mountaintops must be devoted to making the place somehow matter more than other places in our minds. Cheng just wanted to read a book at the top of the Sandia range in New Mexico, but felt he was somehow wasting the moment by not rushing around to take it all in.

It’s an idea that fascinates me because there have been things I’ve seen that I truly believed would be a level of incredible I could only imagine that, instead, turned out to be a bust. Then, something as simple as driving to work on Monday, with the way the sun came through the clouds and lit up the hills on the back way I go in to avoid traffic…it’s the kind of scenery people pay to see.

And it’s minutes from my home!

My Home is a Mountain

When I think of some of my favorite moments in my entire life, sure — juggling at the rim of the Grand Canyon was cool. Canoeing rivers, hiking in the Pacific Northwest, and camping trips into nowhere are way up there. Road trips and other adventures will linger in my memory until my memories are no more. But the memories I really hold dear are evenings when I’ve cooked for friends, right here at home. Afternoons sitting on the couch and talking with my wife can be just as magical as the kinds of places people seek to satisfy that need for something more
.

There is so much more out there I want to see, but many times — maybe even most times — all I need is right here at home.

Pasture in Roanoke, Texas

Coffee and Notes

Big sky and clouds

Beer

Fiddle

Tornado forming in the distance

Martini makings

Foggy Walk

Christopher Gronlund and CF Griffith in the snow