Last week, a flyer was stuck to my garage door, describing Friday as a free E-Waste pick-up day.  It said that there was no limit, and they would take old monitors, computers, appliances, metal tools, and other assorted items of that nature.  All I had to do was take all of my old junk, put it out on the driveway, and attach the flyer with my name and address, along with the number of old monitors and TVs I was getting rid of.

I decided to do it, and it was amazing how much I was able to unpack from my garage.  There were 6 monitors, 9 old computers, a rusted, broken down lawnmower, a defunct weed whacker, and something that I think was probably a vacuum cleaner.  It was hard to tell, since there wasn’t much there.

While I was unloading all of this old tech from my garage, I saw my old Apple IIgs sitting off in a corner.

I didn’t put the Apple out on the driveway.  Instead, I took it to my dining room and set it all up on the table.

The stockpile of technology that I’d set outside had been acquired in the last decade.  Some of it worked, but most of it didn’t.  Computers have a short half-life.  It only takes a couple of years for them to become dated, slow, and undesirable.

This Apple, however, still works perfectly.  All of the disks I have for it still load.  They keyboard is easy to type on.  This thing is nearly 30 years old, and it runs as it always did.

It can’t last forever, though.  Nothing lasts forever.  My Apple still runs now, but it might not function next year, or next month, or maybe even tomorrow.

Yesterday, I fired up Appleworks and started opening up the stories I wrote a long time ago.  The million words of crap you need to write before you become good?  I strapped on some long gloves and went elbow deep into my pile.

I have my Surface Pro 2 sitting in front of the Apple IIgs, with the Apple’s keyboard just off to the right.  I occasionally reach over to the Apple keyboard in order to page down, while I transcribe all of my old writing into Scrivener.  My Scrivener project is saving into a Dropbox directory, so I’m taking the stories I wrote in my teens and twenties and preserving them, such that no single piece of hardware can fail and erase it all.

I’ve learned quite a bit from this exercise.

1. I write very clean first drafts.  This isn’t to say that they are good, necessarily.  They’re just grammatically more polished than a lot of first (or even second or third)  drafts I’ve read from other authors.  I thought this was a skill that I had picked up over the years, while writing my million words of crap.  One of the stories I transposed yesterday is unfinished first draft, and it was actually very easy to read, with strong verbs, minimal adverbs, and decent description.
2. My Arthur Kane stories are as bad as I thought they were.  This was the first book I wrote, which is about a genius, acrobatic, martial arts wielding, sharpshooter private investigator that lives on the moon in the early 2070’s.  The book is three of his cases strung together, each case being about 20,000 words in length.  The plot is contrived, the characters are unbelievable, and the details are impossible.  This is not a story I want to share with anyone, ever again.
3. The Arthur Kane stories are bad, but I was a pretty decent writer for my age.  There are places throughout where I did things right.  There are decent metaphors.  There are decent story arcs, and I was not afraid to really abuse my protagonists.
4. Looking at where I started, I can see how far I’ve come.  The kid that wrote the stories that I’m transcribing had a lot to learn, but he also had a great deal of potential.  My ability to write and tell stories has progressed, and this exercise has given me a tangible measure of that progress.

So far, I’ve only transcribed a fraction of what I’ve written.  This is going to take me a while.

Maybe I’ll do something with these old story ideas someday, but probably not.  I have new stories to tell.  I don’t want to spend all my time rewriting.  I’m taking the time now to just preserve what I’ve already written, and keep this very important point in my life alive, so that I can continue to measure my growth as I go forward.

Things have been quiet and dark in my world lately.

This isn’t going to be a negative post.  I don’t want to make negative posts here.  I want to be a positive person, and I want my blog to be a positive place.  That’s part of why it has been so quiet lately.

I do want to talk about struggles, and overcoming them.  That’s the stuff of heroes, and the kind of material an author can learn from and draw upon when putting their stories together.

One of the struggles has been writing.  I haven’t been making the time for it, and I’ve been letting my insecurities and fear lead the way.  It’s a dark cycle, because when I’m not writing, I’m more irritable, and I give fuel and voice to all of my inner demons.  That just leads to more time where I’m not writing.

It has an impact on my ability to work, too.  I’m slowed down when I’m angry with myself.  When self-doubt is ruling me, I have a hard time making decisions, and programming is all about being decisive.

My perspective gets skewed.  I begin to imagine hostility and dark intentions on the part of others.  I feel like the world is out to get me, that I have no luck, and that I’m utterly alone and powerless.

Fortunately, I know that it’s bullshit.  I’ve gone through all of this before, and I know enough about what’s going on that I can fight back.

I know how to get through this, and get to the other side.  I have to face the void and instead of seeing the blackness, I have to see the brilliant stars that are my successes.

I’ll share some of them with you:

1. After ComicCon, I decided that I was too heavy and needed to lose some weight.  In spite of feeling a bit down, I’ve stuck with my diet, eating responsibly.  I’ve gone from 202 lbs to 186.
2. I went and played in a game with Pol the last two weekends.  I was able to put aside all the angst and hang out with friends, and I was able to smile and have a good time.
3. I’ve been able to recognize the dark emotions and hold onto them without letting them control me.  This is different than denial or compartmentalizing.

When I get to the end of this journey and I look back, I know that this is going to be one of the moments where I’ll be most proud of myself.  There is a voice inside my head that has insisted that I give up the dream and embrace mediocrity.

Part of me wants to quit.  But I’m still here.  It’s Wednesday, and I’m at my writing Starbuck’s, with my writing tools open.

It’s time to write some stories.

I’m not going to post my March count right now, because it’s too embarrassing.  Maybe this weekend.

I should be working on my fantasy novel, but I’m struggling.  A chapter header is staring at me, and I’m finding it difficult to push forward.  I’m not going to call it “writer’s block” because I have too many friends that say that writer’s block doesn’t exist.  Instead, I’ll deal with my not-writing by composing this blog post.

Writer’s Mana

If a wizard requires a single resource called “mana” in order to power his spells, a writer (specifically me) draws on three resources: time, energy, and courage.

Notice I didn’t mention anything about imagination or story ideas.  I think that if you’re writing, you already have those in abundance.  And if you’re not writing, well, you probably still have those in abundance.  I think anyone can write if they have enough time, energy, and courage.

Lauren Sapala describes time and energy in the same breath, but I want to keep them separate for now.  I want to talk about each resource, and the ways in which I’m struggling with each.

Time

I have a full time job, a family, and other commitments, such as the community band I perform with and the Computer Club I run at my kids’ school.  These all require time.  Mondays in particular are filled to the rafters, but the rest of the days are busy, too.  When I try to budget my time on a calendar, I become very uncomfortable.  There aren’t a lot of places to carve out blocks of writing time.

It’s a solvable problem, though.  I have dedicated Wednesday evenings to writing, and that’s been fantastic.  I’ve stolen lunches at work to write a few hundred words several times.  Occasionally, I get out of the house on a weekend and find some place with fewer distractions, and steal time for my passion.  We all have time, as long as we are willing to trim some of the fat, as Lauren described in the article I linked above.

Energy

For me, energy is my capacity to make decisions.  I expend a great deal of energy at work, creating software.  I expend a fair amount teaching Computer Club.  I spend energy in the form of focus, when I play with the band.  Energy is mind fuel, and sometimes my tank runs dry.

That’s what I’m struggling with the most right now.  We just changed offices at work, and I’m wasting so much energy fretting over the longer commute that I don’t have much left in the tank to do my job, or write my story.

As to the question of how to get more energy, I don’t have perfect answers.  I think it helps to do things you enjoy, but not everything I enjoy is free.  For example, I enjoy writing, but it costs me something to do it.  Some games I play also have a mental cost involved.  Getting a good night’s sleep helps with the energy levels.  Different people recharge differently.  For me, it’s about finding some place quiet and participating in some activity in which I don’t have to make a lot of decisions.

Courage

In regards to writing, courage is the capacity to overcome fear.  As a writer, I have a ton of fears to contend with.  I’m afraid of starting a chapter.  I’m afraid my writing will be terrible.  I’m afraid that my work will be rejected.  I’m afraid I won’t finish what I’ve started.  I’m afraid that I’m just a parrot of the people I admire, and that someday, someone is going to see through my writing and see…

We all have fears.  Some of us have the same fears, and some of us have some that are unique to our personal experience.

I don’t think writing is about eradicating your fears.  I think it’s about finding the courage to overcome them.  Some fears may go away, but I think others will always be there.  We each have to find it within ourselves to step up to the ledge and take the leap, and know that we’ll be able to fly.

That’s one of the things I’m struggling with tonight.  I have a blank, empty chapter in front of me, and I’m having a difficult time gathering up the courage to take the next leap.

Fortunately, I know some ways to build up courage.  One way is to tackle smaller problems, building up a reserve of confidence, which translates directly into courage.  Having trouble writing a novel?  Write a short story.  Having trouble with the short story?  Write a paragraph.  Or write a sentence.  Set goals that you can achieve, and then do it again, and again.  In my case, I’m struggling with writing a story, so I’m writing a blog post.

Another way to find courage is distraction.  This doesn’t always work for me, but it does work sometimes.  The idea is to get so wrapped up in something else that you forget to be afraid for a few minutes.  Before you know it, you’re into the work, and fear is no longer an option.  Since writing for me is a mental exercise,  the only distractions that have worked for me have been emotional ones.

Finally, courage can be faked through what I like to think of as constructive apathy.  This resembles desperation, and it works the same way.  I convince myself that I don’t care about the consequences, and then push forward.

Constructive apathy is dangerous, and I don’t think it’s necessarily healthy.  I started to list some examples I’ve used, and I when I realized how terrible they sounded, I deleted them.  If you’re desperate enough, it is an answer.  It just isn’t a good one.

March Word Count: 4275 (deficit of 2725)

I’m sitting at a table in the Sacramento Convention Center, about 45 minutes early for picking up my Wizard World package.  Even after I get my VIP package, it’ll be a little while before I can go in.  It’s a good thing I brought my stuff for writing, isn’t it?

I’m not sure what to expect from this convention.  There are a lot of names that I recognize, and a lot of people will be here whose work I admire.  Other conventions I’ve gone to, there have been panels for me to attend to help me learn more about the business of writing.  This convention, I think I’m supposed to just be a fan.  I don’t really know how to be a fan.

Comic books used to be a bigger part of my life.  I used to collect Ghost Rider, and I followed most of the major Marvel and DC titles for years through my friends.  Hell, when I was in college, the owner of the comic book store I used to frequent would let me read stuff in the store, and would answer whatever questions I had about current events.  That was a long time ago.  Comic books have been eclipsed in my life by other interests.

As I understand it, this convention is about more than comic books.  I think it’s a celebration of pop culture, and all of the things that a proper geek is supposed to celebrate.  I can get behind that.

I think I’ll have a good time.  I’m sure this will be an experience.  If I can paint a picture with words, then this post is the before picture, where I’m sitting with all of the excitement and nervousness of a first-time Comic Con attendee.  Sunday, I’ll post my afterthoughts.

March Word Count: 4200 (800 short of daily goal)

I’ve been meaning to post something about this since November.  I’ve been thinking about it a lot the last couple of weeks, and some recent conversations have brought it to the forefront of my mind.

I need to get better at taking criticism.  This mostly applies to writing, but it feeds into other parts of my life, too.

My greatest problem is how much I associate my self-worth with my work.  I pour myself into it.  This means that I’m passionate about it, and I really give it my all.  It also means that when I put my work in front of someone else, I’m exposed and vulnerable.

At ConVolution, I was exceptionally nervous.  I felt a little bit of nausea before the workshop met up, and I was a gibbering mess on the inside, when it got to my turn.  As each person spoke, I listened as best I could, while at the same time I was thinking, “Don’t be that guy… don’t be that guy…” When it was time for me to ask questions for clarification, I couldn’t really say much.  I said that I agreed with everything that was said, and I thanked everyone for the feedback.  I might have asked a question, but I don’t remember.  I was still trying to keep myself together.

That was probably the best I’ve done, and it was harrowing.  Since then, I’ve relaxed a little bit, but that hasn’t necessarily been good.

The time before last when the Auspicious NorCal Writer’s group met up, we reviewed a couple of chapters of my Mel Walker story, and I did not handle it well.  I had a very bad reaction to it, and I wound up creating some drama in the group.

The last time we met, my work received a very mild review.  That would be okay, except that my story was terrible.  It had pacing problems.  It had plot problems.  It was gimmicky.

I need to know when my stories don’t work, but at the same time, I need to not take the criticism so hard that my ego and self-confidence take a tumble.

Part of what’s keeping me going is a belief that I am a good writer.  It’s tenuous, though, because I don’t have any real successes that I can hang my hat on.

The only way I’m going to get better at receiving critiques is through additional trial and error.   It’s like writing itself.  If you want to improve, you have to do it, and not just talk about it.  Hopefully I haven’t broken things beyond repair with the Auspicious group.

To make the most the critiques, I think I need to provide some guidance.  When I was first asked what sort of critiques I wanted, I said, “Whatever is in your heart.” That was my answer, because I didn’t know what I wanted.  I have a slightly better set of guidelines, now.

• If something doesn’t work, I want to know that it doesn’t work.
• If something is good, I really want to know that it is good.  But I don’t want this fudged.  It needs to be genuine, if I’m going to be able to use this to improve.
• I am not receptive to someone telling me how they would write my story.  This is not meant to be bitchy.  I bring this up to address my own idiosyncrasies.  When someone else tells me how they would write my story, I hear, “You’re not good enough to write this on your own, let me help you.” This is my kryptonite.
• If we’re looking at a first draft, bear in mind that it is a first draft.  Applying analysis at a high depth might be useful, but it also might be a waste of time for everyone involved.

I think these guidelines will probably help safeguard me against myself.  There are probably other guidelines that I haven’t thought of yet, but I’m only going to learn them through continued efforts.

I finished the Prelude of A Clean Slate tonight.  I edited what I’d done last week, and I wrote a little more than 700 words.  It’s more than last week, though still less than I’d like to be adding in a writing session.

I want to talk for a moment about writing sessions.  Specifically, Wednesday evenings.

I said in my last post that I’m going to post word counts here, and I meant it.  Unfortunately, I haven’t had any word counts to post until tonight.  That’s been one of the great things about having a set night: no matter what else is going on in my life, I’ve got this block of time set aside for writing, and I haven’t wavered.  I’ve been keeping my weekly writing appointment.

Having Michael present has helped.  It’s like having a work-out buddy.  We don’t usually talk much about what we’re writing, but just having a buddy there to help keep me honest is invaluable.

For the foreseeable future, Wednesday evenings won’t be available for Michael.  I found out just before driving out to Starbuck’s tonight, and I wanted to cry.  Michael’s going to be teaching writing.  I’m really happy for him, and I think it’s going to be good for him, just as teaching programming has been good for me.  But it is a change, and all of the crazy, neurotic fears I have around writing pressed against my defenses when I heard the news.

If scheduling doesn’t work out, and we’re not able to keep meeting, will I be able to keep going on my own?

The answer is: “Yes, of course.” Actually, that’s the abbreviated answer.  The full answer is, “Yes, of course.  Quit being a melodramatic idiot, Brian.  Write more than once a week, and it won’t be a problem.”

When I ask myself these questions, I can be both wise and a dick at the same time.

I’ll keep writing.  It’s just going to be a little bit harder.

I think I’m going to commit to my March plan.  31,000 words in 31 days.  A mini NaNoWriMo.  Anyone want to join me?  If one writing buddy was good, how much better would it be to have many writing buddies?

I’m about to pack up and leave Starbuck’s, and I feel pretty good.

Ever since I tried to reread A Clean Slate, I’ve been dreading the idea of starting again.  I knew that it was necessary.  The previous incarnation was bad enough that any attempt to fix it was going to be a complete rewrite.  It is easier and quicker just to dump the previous prose and start fresh.  Start A Clean Slate with a clean slate.

It wasn’t easy.  I managed to put it off last week by doing a bunch of outlining.  The outlining was necessary, but it also felt like I was procrastinating.  It felt like I was putting the scary part off for another day.

Why is it so scary?  Why does a brand new document fill me with so much dread?  It’s fear, for sure.  But why must I torture myself with all of this fear before I’ve even started?

I opened the new document tonight, selected the manuscript template, and filled in my name and the title of the story.  Then I procrastinated a little bit more, by taking to twitter and participating in #GenreChat.

Opening the new document was like riding a roller coaster to the very top, where everything slows down before the mad rush.  All of the anticipation is there, as well as the fear of crashing and burning.

#GenreChat finished, and I took the plunge.  I started slowly, picking up a little bit more speed as the setting started to solidify in my mind.  It wasn’t easy, but it wasn’t torturous, either.  Self-doubt tells me that it might be torturous to my readers, but to hell with self-doubt.

I’m a little more than 500 words into the prelude, and that seems pretty good for now.  It’s a start.  More importantly, it’s another place where I faced my fears head-on and succeeded.

Tonight was a good night.

This weekend I attended Dundracon.  It was the first one I’d been to since ’98.  It was at the same hotel, and used the same rooms.  When I attended DundraCon before, I was a lot younger, and much hungrier for games.  Also, my trips to DundraCon were as much about seeing my friend David as they were about roleplaying games.

I expected to be one of the older guys this year.  Twenty years ago, I remember everyone being roughly my age, with a handful of older guys joining in games.  I thought I was going to be one of those older guys.  Instead, most everyone was… my age.  There were younger folk in attendance, but I didn’t feel like I was out of place.

How did I enjoy the con?  Well, I only played in two games.  I think that if I’d stayed in the hotel, I might have tried to participate more.  Since the con was only about an hour and a half away, I slept in my bed each night.

I think I wasn’t really in the mood.  I still love roleplaying games, but I found that I didn’t have a lot of patience.  Both games I played in had players that really got on my nerves.  They were fine people, and I was as nice to them as I could muster, but there wasn’t much compatibility between the way we gamed.  I’m in it for the collaborative story telling and the character development.  I’m not sure what these other folk were interested in.  Something different.

It was good playing with Pol and Dael, though.  I haven’t played with them in ages.

I was hoping that the long weekend would quiet my inner monster, which has been growling and snarling and pumping acid through my veins.  I’ve been impatient with everything and everyone.  I’ve been having difficulty finding enjoyment in anything.  Writing has been a real struggle.

I read this post by Setsu that suggests that I should find some creative outlet to sooth my strife.  That sounds easier said than done.  I also read this post by Emma Newman where Emma talks about her own inner monsters, and it mirrors the sort of things I’ve been feeling.  Both posts offer interesting insights and opposing action items.  If I follow Setsu’s path, I will grit my teeth and pour myself into my writing until I feel better.  If I follow Emma’s path, I will take a deep breath, relax, and try not to stress myself out while allowing myself time to recharge.

Both arguments appeal to me.  I pushed myself very hard for a protracted period of time.  It might not be that good for me to push myself with my writing.  On the other hand, I haven’t done that much writing, and achieving some success in getting some words on the page might lift my spirits and chase the monsters away.

The night’s still young.  I have time to figure out what I’m going to do.  Tomorrow I’m writing for sure.  Tonight?  We’ll just have to see.

I’ve heard writers described in two different terms:

Pantsers — These are people that write “by the seat of their pants.” They write by discovery.  They’ll craft a strong character and just follow wherever that character will lead them, enjoying the journey as they go.  If they sit down and try to plot everything out in advance, it spoils the story for them, and they don’t enjoy writing it as much.  I’ve known lots of writers that identify in this way.  By his own admission, Dean Wesley Smith is in this category.

Plotters — These people plan everything out in advance.  They create outlines, iterating over their plot diagram to fill in each gap with greater and greater detail.  They are uncomfortable with not knowing where they’re going, and some might scoff at the notion of the character “taking over.” They’re methodical.  I’ve known several writers that fall into this category, too.  Jennifer Brozak describes herself as a plotter.

I used to identify myself as more of a pantser.  When I’d sit down to write, it felt like I was reading, only the words were appearing as if by magic beneath my eyes.  My Arthur Kane stories were written that way, and all of the time I spent on Star Wars MUSH was like that.  My writing process for my last two short stories involved very little plotting in advance.

As I’ve matured, I’ve noticed that the “seat of my pants” approach doesn’t actually work that well for me anymore.  The short stories might be an exception, except that even with those, I gave them a lot of thought in advance before sitting down and putting my hands on the keyboard.  They were short enough that I could do all of the plotting in advance and keep it in my head.

Longer stories, on the other hand, I have to plot out now.  That’s what I spent most of my night doing last night.  I sat in the Starbucks with OneNote open and stylus in hand, and I started listing all of the plot points I want to cover in the first act of A Clean Slate.  I was breaking it down into chapters, and highlighting my purpose for each part of the story.

My process for the Mel Walker story was a little bit different.  I didn’t have the time to plot everything.  I knew how I wanted to start, and I knew the character and some of the things I wanted to happen, but I didn’t have a complete outline.  I wound up with a series of incomplete outlines.  It was like I would stop, shine a light ahead into the dark to see where I was going, write down what I saw from where I was, and then move forward.  When I ran out of notes, my writing would slow down, and I’d have to dig out the flashlight again and take more notes.

I’ve been writing casually for about 25 years, and more seriously for a year and a half, and I’m still trying to figure out what works best for me.  I’m starting to think that I need to use a different process for each story.  I once thought of writing in terms of sculpting, where the shape of the story becomes more and more refined with each draft and edit.  If a sculptor needs different tools for different mediums, maybe I need a different process for different story types.

It was pizza and beer tonight.  I had a lot more pizza than beer (4 slices, but only one bottle), but I’m still feeling tipsy.  What can I say?  I think it’s good that I’m a cheap date.

I have a number of random thoughts I want to roll with tonight.  There’s lots on my mind.  Some of it, I’m willing to share.  Some of it I’m not.  But let’s see what an inebriated Brian has to say…

State of the Union Address

I watched the President’s address, and there were only a few times where I frowned.  I’m neither democrat nor republican.  I identify more with Libertarians, though all of the Libertarian candidates I’ve ever seen have been a little crazy.  Be that as it may, I didn’t find too much at fault with President Obama’s speech.

There were a lot of standing ovations.  They seemed like political gestures, and they seemed cheap.  Watching the speech, watching both the President and the audience through the lens of political gesturing made the speech more interesting to me.

I’ll have to check the fact checkers tomorrow to see how much of what the President said was true, and how much was exaggeration.  He usually does pretty well at keeping to the truth, but he’s a politician like the rest.  He’s going to spin things.

Overall, though, I believe that he’s sincere in his attempts to help the country.  I just don’t agree with everything he has to say.

My Day Job

The President talked about solar energy, so we’ll use that as a segue to talk about my day job.  I’m a programmer, and since the year started, I’ve been working on software to help control equipment at a solar plant.  I won’t go into the details too much, but the site produces around 20MW, and the software I helped create is responsible for helping to control that site.  I’m very proud of what I do.

Proud as I might be, this month has been absolutely harrowing.  Tonight is the first night I’ve been home around 6PM.  I could have been home by 5PM, but I wanted to stay and watch the inverters at the site shut down with the sun.  I wanted to make sure the application did what it was supposed to do.  It did, and I was relieved.  Hopefully the customer will appreciate the application.

The main reason that this month has been so harrowing is that we’ve been understaffed.  The person that was primarily responsible for the web application went to India to get married.  She was to be gone for 6 weeks, and I thought she had the application mostly finished .  She didn’t.  What she had done wasn’t to the level of my standards, and I had to work a lot of late nights to get the project to a place where it could be deployed.

This put me in an ugly position, and I’m still uncomfortable with where things are.  I had to work very long hours to try and make something decent, and even still, had to make a lot of very uncomfortable compromises.  When my coworker returns, we’ll need to talk about the work that she’s been doing.  That also makes me uncomfortable.

There’s more I could say about that work, but I may have said too much.  I don’t want my coworker to get in any trouble.  I just want her to do a better job next time, and follow some better patterns and better coding practices.  I’m sure I can help her get there.

Chasing my Dreams

With all of the work I’ve been doing for money, I haven’t had much time to follow my dreams.  I’ve done my best.  I’ve been meeting up with Michael on Wednesdays to write.  But I really haven’t had time to write beyond that.  I’ve done a little bit of editing, and I’ve started a couple of interesting story threads, but that’s about it.

I’m forced to reevaluate how I’m spending my time and energy.  I’ve been programming my little heart out, but that’s not where I see myself in 5 or 10 years.  I’d rather be writing fiction than writing software.

It has me a little bit torn, because I have talent as a programmer.  I’m in a good position where I’m doing good work.  I’m proud of my accomplishments, and I’m with a company that loves me.  It’s a place I’ve been excelling.

All of these late nights feels like a distraction from my calling, though.  Or maybe it’s one of my callings monopolizing the time from another.

I need balance.  I need to keep chasing my dream, and keeping pulling the words from my head and imagination.  I have talent, drive, and a dedication to improve my craft.  I’m getting better.  I just need to give myself more time to write, and not squander that time when it is available.