The $500,000 question isn’t an idle one for children’s authors this week. I could spend the whole morning thinking up things I could do with a MacArthur Grant, and if I actually had the money, maybe I would pass this a.m. that way.
But what I wouldn’t do if I had a MacArthur Grant, that’s a quick and easy one. I wouldn’t spend so much of my thinking and writing time the way I do now — on mentally weighing and juggling the various projects I’d love to take on, and on trying to figure out which ones fit best into my limited minutes.
I would un-limit my time in a major way, and actually pursue a lot more of those projects (in an orderly fashion, of course) rather than just wonder when I’ll have time to get around to them.
Until one of those “genius grants” comes my way, maybe should devise an award of my own. I’ll call it the “Brainerd Prize” (motto: “Good one, brainerd”), give it to myself, and — thusly honored — try to come up with an idea for how to fix that logjam of projects.
My own challenge is to act more like I have luxury *now*. I mean, relative to where I was a few years ago, I do have plenty of time to direct my own projects. Anyway, my own personal logjam is going to be there until/unless I unstick it – whether or not I have a half-mil in my pocket.
The way I figure it, we can pull out one log at a time (i.e. pick just one project and stick with it until it’s done), or we can demolish part of the logjam by getting rid of less-worthy projects, or we can get help with some projects, or some combination of these. My challenge: to do *something* about it, rather than staying in love with my logjam like I have done.
My own challenge is to act more like I have luxury *now*. I mean, relative to where I was a few years ago, I do have plenty of time to direct my own projects. Anyway, my own personal logjam is going to be there until/unless I unstick it – whether or not I have a half-mil in my pocket.
The way I figure it, we can pull out one log at a time (i.e. pick just one project and stick with it until it’s done), or we can demolish part of the logjam by getting rid of less-worthy projects, or we can get help with some projects, or some combination of these. My challenge: to do *something* about it, rather than staying in love with my logjam like I have done.
My own challenge is to act more like I have luxury *now*. I mean, relative to where I was a few years ago, I do have plenty of time to direct my own projects. Anyway, my own personal logjam is going to be there until/unless I unstick it – whether or not I have a half-mil in my pocket.
The way I figure it, we can pull out one log at a time (i.e. pick just one project and stick with it until it’s done), or we can demolish part of the logjam by getting rid of less-worthy projects, or we can get help with some projects, or some combination of these. My challenge: to do *something* about it, rather than staying in love with my logjam like I have done.
Yep, Tim, part of me also loves having so much to do, but I’m doing my best to stick with one project at a time while paring away from the list of things I’ll get to when that one project’s finished.
I keep telling myself to view my children’s-writer to-do list in terms of decades and not weeks or months, and one of these days — years? — it will sink in.
Yep, Tim, part of me also loves having so much to do, but I’m doing my best to stick with one project at a time while paring away from the list of things I’ll get to when that one project’s finished.
I keep telling myself to view my children’s-writer to-do list in terms of decades and not weeks or months, and one of these days — years? — it will sink in.
Yep, Tim, part of me also loves having so much to do, but I’m doing my best to stick with one project at a time while paring away from the list of things I’ll get to when that one project’s finished.
I keep telling myself to view my children’s-writer to-do list in terms of decades and not weeks or months, and one of these days — years? — it will sink in.