I don’t think
I’ll ever write anything longer than a blog post. I can hardly sit still long
enough. Even if my seat is pinned in the chair, my mind flits out the window
and soars with the hawks.
Committed to the
computer, I type half of a great introductory sentence, then jump up and go to
the kitchen to heat my tea, hoping the other half of that idea will be there
when I get back. It never is.
I jump up to
close closets and cabinets. I can’t help myself, they sort of call me. ADDs
can’t screen out incoming stimuli – even from motionless cabinet doors. My ADD mind
is a restless, impulsive maverick who underestimates time consumption.
Attention
Deficit is a new label for me but I’m learning how to deal with it, even to
enjoy it. Finding out at this point in my life (age 60) is stunning. On one
hand, affirming some of the helpful techniques I’ve stumbled upon along the way.
On the other hand, too late to avoid the trail of destruction I left in my
family. Repairing relationships is an ongoing focus of mercy and humility.
I choose to
scratch my pesky mental itches by turning to the creative: I write. Experts on
ADD remind us we are tenacious and brave. We are smart and imaginative. Writing
is the perfect playground.
I’m learning
to accept feelings of incompetence both ADDs and writers suffer, but I can’t
afford to claim this ADD label as a liability. I need to live – and write - in
the paradigm of ADD as an asset. I’m managing the hyperactive creatures within
me, improving life by creating beauty from chaos.
ADD shows up in my writings.
Sometimes my
writing is a mystery to others. Problem: when I write a sentence I think I’ve
expressed a thought. Each word chosen for that sentence is a concept
encompassing great detail, a symbol of deep meaning. However, people in my
writing critique group have gently pointed out that many paragraphs could
emerge from that single sentence. On the
other hand, sometimes such extreme level of detail erupts from within the
author that the reader is overwhelmed and shuts down or turns away.
However, during
writing critique group meetings my attention never strays. I am captivated and delve
into the flow of analysis and enjoy someone else’s fiction or each line of a draft
poem. Deep concentration and conversation like this is actually restful to my
ADD mind.
MANAGING THESE
TRAITS to thrive as a writer.
One problem –
all options seem valid. Whether that includes events in a story arc or writing
tasks I’m in the middle of, my busy ADD mind rides the carousel of all the
pretty horses and doesn’t naturally move forward on any single one of them.
However, creating
structures helps keep me focused forward as I write. I always hang my car keys
on the hook just inside the kitchen because the hook is there. A physical
structure.
I’m organizing
to be efficient, not pretty, just well enough to function. A yellow 3x5” card is taped to the office wall
above the light switch that says, “Stuff is noise.” Decreasing clutter in my writing
area and keeping only one writing project (okay, maybe two) on the desk at a
time are effective strategies against that sense of overwhelm.
A hanging file
on the wall behind me has only three pockets. File folders cleanly labeled with
black marker make each one neat and available. If I want to turn around and peek
at another project, the distraction doesn’t last long. I know precisely where
it belongs - not on top of another horizontal stack of notebooks on top of
another filing cabinet.
Magazines
references are stored vertically – upright in containers. If the first one or
two lay down, I blink and they have multiplied like rabbits into families of
magazines. I also store any magazine with a particularly inspirational article
open to that page. That saves distraction time remembering if it was in Poets
& Writers or Writers’ Digest.
Pens and
pencils. I’ve selected five (5) of my best pens, those that flow well and fit
my hand. And I lay one across the page of active writing if I do leave the room
so I know where to engage when I return.
A kitchen
timer is set to 40-minute intervals when I write, unless I’m speed drafting,
then to 15-minute bits. The trouble with distraction is I don’t know I’ve just
been distracted. I’ve left the room. I think I remember every vivid detail but
don’t know what I don’t know. The timer brings me back.
Most of my
great ideas don’t get accomplished. No external punishment or enticement can
motivate me to finish a task uninterrupted. So many competing ‘things’ battle
for attention that I fall short. When I get discouraged and feel like a
failure, someone kindly reminds me to think playfully and the self-condemnation
block is broken.
Moving
forward. Feedback please.
It seems
reasonable and attainable to aim for 600 – 700 words to deliver a clear idea. I
think my next project will be an anthology of blog entries.
