The Rest of You

Mood Tools Week 14: Cherish your non-writing life.

I’m going to use this final week of the Mood Tools series about how to support your writing mindset to talk about everything but writing.

Because the single best thing you can do to support your writing mindset is to cherish every single thing in your life that is not writing.

I’m writing this while eating a salad¹ beside the pen we’ve set up for the love bug disguised as a 14-week-old puppy who somehow crawled right past the adults-only sign I erected in my dog-loving heart, into my lap, and picked me by curling up and looking up at me nose booped to nose as if to say, you’re it.

And by “it” she meant the one who would get up with her in the night to take her out to pee, the one who would teach her that her name was Shiloh, that she was a very good girl, and that there was nothing to fear in the hiss of a can of seltzer being opened.

Can you even? Because I can't.

Needless to say I wrote less than I intended to this week² when I was setting goals that didn’t take into account I’d be voluntarily welcoming a furry domestic terrorist hellbent on bombing my home with bio weapons³, but that’s OK because although I am a writer, I’m not just a writer, and while your mileage may vary, I’ve found it’s dangerous to overidentify as a writer. It certainly made the near miss of my last book far more painful. If I truly was the writer I claimed to be in the decade I spent revising and revising my first book, the thinking went, then who was I when that book ended up in a drawer instead of in a bookstore?

Finding the answer to that question was the darkest night of the soul I’ve had as a writer, but it was the dawn of a much healthier writing mindset. Not for nothing it also gave me experience embracing all of me that came in handy when I had to pivot after the pandemic disrupted my industry. And having to seriously redefine who I was twice in a few years gave me permission to define myself not by the roles I play but by the parts of myself that I feel are foundational Cathy—my compassion, my sense of humor, and my curiosity.

I can’t speak to how well I’m doing where my compassion and my sense of humor are concerned—they’re values I strive to practice, but the verdict about how well I practice is in the hands of the people I’m practicing on—but my curiosity is a gift I give to myself.

At any given moment I’m deeply and happily obsessing about something silly. At the current moment that’s generally something related to the history of close-up magic because of my book, but I’m also currently obsessed with the art of bonsai, Van Gogh, aerial yoga, and for reasons I don’t understand given it’s 2023 and not 1983, the Rubik’s cube.⁴

And of course this week as a newly minted dog mom—technically I’m on a 14-day trial, but I think Shiloh’s made it clear she’s mine—I’m doing a deep dive into dog training.⁵

I guess what I’m saying is what you already know. It’s OK to have interests and priorities outside of writing. And—more importantly—it’s alright to fully enjoy those interests an priorities, no guilt.

Some of you are thinking—to bring back an eighties saying to go with my Rubik’s detour—no duh. This post isn’t for you.⁶ It’s for those of us who feel a twinge of guilt when you do anything that’s not writing.⁷ But, listen. The summer is upon us. The world is big and beautiful and so much more than words on a page. Our interests outside of writing are life itself, in fact,⁸ and life is meant to be lived, so enjoy your writing selves, yes, but please, please, please, enjoy the rest of you, too.

What’s next?

In the spirit of embracing the rest of me, in a couple weeks I’m going to devote a little of my writing week to being a bit more playful by reading Jeff Vandermeer’s Wonderbook: The Illustrated Guide to Creating Imaginative Fiction. Equal parts art book, craft book, and invitation to play, I bought the book a while ago as a present to myself…and then consistently kept not starting to read it because I feared it would eat into the time I have for my novel. But some part of the rest of me is really craving a return to writing as play, and so this is my summer gift to myself. A cursory look at the book shows seven packed chapters, so I figure I’ll play it by ear and see if that becomes seven posts or fourteen. This is a playful summer series, so I’m being a bit bare feet on the beach about it.

Buy a copy of this gorgeous book and join me?

Additionally, I’m going to be doing some more sporadic series, including the (roughly) monthly Tenacity Tales posts I wrote about last week. Also, given today’s post, I like the idea of a much more sporadic series called The Rest of Me in which I write about whatever obsession I feel most compelled to share.⁹

So will you join me on my Wonderbook adventure? If for no other reason than because the book itself is thing of beauty:

Seriously, on every page another illustrated, well, wonder.

1. Salad #20 in my silly quest to eat 100 salads during this 100 Days of Summer!

2. Not to mention publishing this post several days later than usual.

3. I know she’s not screwing with me, but it’s tough to remember that when you take her out at 2 am, she spends ten minutes laying in the grass like we’re out there to stargaze , and then pees the minute you bring her inside.

4. I’m not kidding about the Rubik’s cube. I found an old Rubik’s keychain mini and am obsessed. I took the entire cube apart to rebuild it correctly as I feared it had been tampered with by my husband’s niece years ago, and—this is momentous given I am historically spatially challenged—I put it back together. I am inordinately proud of this fact. What? Now why would you ask me about the current state of my cube? Hopelessly unsolved, thank you very much, but I’m going to solve it any day now. What? Yes, I have tossed it against the back of the couch in frustration, but I don’t see how that’s relevant! No further questions!

5. I may be even prouder of teaching a 14-week old puppy to go up a flight of stairs in a day than I am of putting that Rubik’s cube back together. What’s that? No, she’s NOT going down the stairs yet, but didn’t I just say I wasn’t taking any more questions?!

6. Because it has to be said, “no duh.”

7. Why, yes, this is about the twinge of guilt I feel at how this sweet little puppy is going to wreck havoc in my summer writing plans. But it’s also about all the things I haven’t let myself do in the name of writing. Like, for example, actually mastering a magic trick. What? Yes, fine. You can check back in a year to see how my magic has progressed. But fair warning—I may make you look at pictures of my one year old puppy when you do.

8. And if those interests involve—as they really should—taking good care of your body by cooking great food and making time for exercise and rest, those interests are your health and your health really is life.

9. Not gonna lie. There’s likely to be a Shiloh post or three…hundred. I’m kidding. I think.