The other day I ran across a blog called The 100 Thing Challenge. Basically, this guy decided to limit his personal belongings to 100 things. The entire idea feels like a more analytical person’s version of minimalism.

I found this concept very appealing. Those of you who know me are probably laughing right now. I’m essentially the opposite of a minimalist. I’m an acquirer. I have a new hobby every day and the first thing I do for each is go buy all the stuff needed to learn the hobby. Then my urgency dies down and all the stuff goes into the pile of things I’ll use “someday” when I get around to learning that hobby.

Even the activities that I do regularly engage in – like writing – are practiced among a drastic disproportion between the tools possessed and the task at hand. I had boxes full of empty or partially filled notebooks, paper, and binders. I do like to write longhand and I’m a little obsessed with starting a fresh notebook for a new project, but boxes? Really? Surely any rational person would need no more than five notebooks.

I decided to try the challenge and started to make a list of the 100 things I would keep. MacBook, car, Bible, one notebook, my favorite pen, my phone, my iPod, espresso machine, toothbrush, etc. Then I realized that I should probably start by getting rid of everything that I knew wasn’t going to make the list. Hopefully I’d narrow down the options to a couple (or six) hundred. Then I’d make another cut and end up at my list naturally rather than writing it out ahead of time. So I walked into my bathroom and started cleaning out the cabinets. Moisturizer I bought in 2005 and never used? Trash. Really ugly blue eyeshadow that I wore once before realizing my mistake? Trash.

Every item was subject to three tests:

1. Have I used this in the last six months?
2. If this is one of many items, is this the one that I can’t live without?
3. Am I realistically going to use this product regularly over the next six months?

It only takes one no before something gets thrown out.

After the bathroom was finished, I moved on to the living room and storage areas. Up to this point, I’d been throwing things away but I was moving beyond half-used makeup and extra nail files now so I started “donate” and “lend” piles. IPod speakers that I never use? Donate. Beautiful guitar that I never learned to play? Lend. Boxes of half used notebooks? Trash (or recycle!). Three hours later I had 17 big black trash bags lined neatly against one wall, a large pile full of things to donate, and a couple of items to lend out to friends. Now came the heavy lifting. I took out the trash (ahem, possibly utilizing some extra space from some dumpsters behind apartments along my street…). I loaded up the car and made a run through the Goodwill drive thru donation center (possibly the most efficient method of donation ever invented – way to go Goodwill!). I’m still working on getting all the “lend” items delivered to the appropriate people who will make good use of them.

So far I’ve noticed four big changes in my life that directly relate back to reducing the number of things I own.

1. I have physical space again. I know where my things are and I can access them easily to use them. My books are not packed into the closet; they’re on my bookshelf. My bike isn’t sitting in the living room; it’s flipped on its back wheel and stored neatly in my front closet between rides. The percentage of my total space that is used for living versus storage of stuff has significantly increased.
2. I have more mental space. The most surprising result has been how much more mental space I have. By lending my guitar to a friend, I admitted to myself that I was never going to learn to play the guitar in the foreseeable future. I took it off my mental list of things I “should” be doing. With every physical object I disposed of, I also disposed of all of the unfulfilled tasks I should have done with that object, all the cleaning / moving / storage requirements associated with that object, etc. My mental list narrowed to the tasks associated with the things I kept – ride my bike, write, go for a run, read a book, take my dog for a walk, etc.
3. I spend less time deciding which activity to do or which tools to use, and more time doing the things I love the most. When I need a notebook, I pull out my one notebook. I don’t sit down and look through my options to decide which notebook will be perfect for this particular story or idea, I just put everything in the one. So I spend more time writing and less time deciding on what to write in. When I have an hour free, I don’t think through the twelve activities on my “to do someday” list and waste half my time deciding. Instead, I look from my computer to my books to my tennis shoes and pick one quickly and go with it. I’ve been much more productive when I have free time at home.
4. I buy fewer things and what I do buy is of higher quality. Before I buy something, I think of what else I’m going to throw out, donate, or lend in order to make room for it in my life. A shocking number of items I would have purchased before haven’t been making the cut. When I do buy new things, I tend to pick items that are more versatile and will last longer.

My bedroom is next on the list. I’m already psyching myself up to face the wardrobe reduction. That one might draw some blood.

Anyone had a similar experience when whittling down their belongings? Any words of wisdom on how to use a versatile object to replace several specific ones?

On March 1st, I started Kate Moss University (or KMU as my friends have started calling it).

I’ll give you a few minutes to laugh at me, then we can talk about why.

Done? Great. Let’s talk about the thought behind the admittedly rather bizarre idea.

I’m a writer. Like many writers, I want to write a novel. Actually, I’ve already written one. It was bad. I want to write a good one. But I never seem to find the time. It’s such a monumental task when you approach it. It’s also one of those deeply personal, deeply important things that are terrifying to fail at. It matters to me. That makes it a daunting task to work on. When I have free time, it’s much easier to spend it doing laundry or riding my bike or having coffee with a friend than to sit down and face that fear of failure. As a result, I haven’t made much progress in the year since I finished my last novel.

I was contemplating this problem at the end of February. I’ve been very successful in some other areas of life, especially school and business, and I was trying to think about what made me successful in those areas to see if there were some principles I could apply to my writing life to increase my chances of success. I quickly realized that the primary difference between the task of writing a decent fiction novel and my other goals was one of incremental achievement.When you write a novel, the task and the ultimate goal are the same. There are no real, meaningful benchmarks along the way. I can break the task into mini goals (5,000 page, 50,000 page, etc.), but at the end of the day, every time I sit down to write I am keenly aware that the purpose of the exercise is to contribute to my novel.

This is in direct contrast to both school and work, where you have a variety of assignments, clients, and tasks that each have a purpose and that taken collectively equip you to achieve your ultimate goal. When I am working on a client’s project, my primary goals are to complete the project well, learn the necessary information to do a good job, etc. My secondary career-related goals of being good at my job, getting promoted, earning more responsibility, etc. slip into the background. They ensure that I am diligent in pursuing the primary goals of the project, but they are not the primary goals themselves. The same is true of school. When I complete an assignment, my goal is to achieve the objectives of the assignment. This contributes to my overarching goal of learning necessary skills, getting a good GPA, etc., but allows me to contribute to those larger goals in incremental achievements rather than being immobilized by the important and inherently vague goal of “learning necessary skills.”

I started brainstorming a way to map my real writing goal – to write a decent novel – onto the incremental achievement framework I had used effectively in my academic and professional lives. The result was Kate Moss University. There’s something about the creative mind that functions well with many constraints rather than few. We all think we want freedom, but the blank page is one of the most intimidating forces in a writer’s life. I can spend days wrestling with where to start the open-ended task of writing a novel, but if you tell me write a five page story about a secret agent, a lizard, a coffee plantation, and a colony of killer bees, I’ll be off and running almost before I’ve finished reading the assignment.

With this thought in mind, I designed my degree–a Master’s in Fictional Studies. It’s a four year program made up of classes that will either strengthen specific writing skills, allow me to write chunks of my novel, or equip me with non-writing skills that are valuable to writers (social media, business, etc.). Here’s the tentative class schedule as it stands today:

All classes are three credits unless they have a (1) next to them. The (1) credit classes are the fluffy ones designed to stretch me creatively or pick up smaller “nice to have” skills.

I also made a course description for each of my first semester classes. This includes a textbook (yes, I found a textbook for each), assignments, and a final project for each. Then I put together a comprehensive syllabus that broke down my assignments by week for each class.

I’m about three weeks in and it’s been a little bit difficult transitioning back into “school” mode. Luckily all of my assignments are awesome or it would be hard to do them without a teacher there to impose the discipline of a deadline. I really like this idea. It doesn’t scare me the way the thought of just running right into another novel does. But it doesn’t feel like a detour either. It feels like I’m playing to my strengths to help me reach my goal. And that’s a pretty amazing feeling.

So what do you think? Am I crazy? A genius? Both? Maybe just a little Type A?

I’d say that I’m open to new students, but I can’t imagine any of you are crazy enough and/or loved school enough to be interested.

I’d love to hear your suggestions on ways to improve my curriculum or help impose my internal deadlines more firmly. Maybe I’ll post my assignments for your review. That would keep me on my toes…

Also, I’m accepting mascot ideas. It should probably be writing-related because the only degree available is in fictional studies. On the other hand, the “fighting books” just doesn’t have the right ring to it.

After a year-long hiatus from blogging, I’m back. Again.

I’ll go ahead and steal a quote from my about page to summarize the idea behind this “new” blog -

This is not my first blog. Over the years, I’ve started and abandoned many topic-specific blogs. Being a person of rapidly shifting and widely ranging interests, it finally dawned on me to create a blog with the scope to handle each of my evolving interests… a blog that could keep up with me. Which is how Bursting at the Seams was born. This blog is a catalogue of my passionate attempt to fit ten lifetimes into this one.

Welcome to the blog. I hope you enjoy it. Maybe we’ll find something we have in common. You like running? I’m training for the San Francisco half marathon in July. Want to join me? You like writing? We’ll definitely be talking about that. You’re hopelessly addicted to coffee? Welcome to the club. We’re currently working on developing the “caffeine patch.” Yes, it is exactly what it sounds like. You like social media? So do I. I’m pretty bad at it, but I’m open to instruction. You love Jesus? Hey, me too. You don’t? No worries, this isn’t a secret club. You don’t have to agree with me to come in. Do you want to bike across mountains in Colorado or hike the Appalachian trail? Me too. When are we leaving?

Grab a cup of coffee and lets chat.

Here is my list:

• Network. It has been pointed out that this is a dreadful word that conjures images of cold-blooded business card collectors (I know Randy Ingermanson has talked about this on his Advanced Fiction Writing Blog at one point. I wanted to send you over there, but can’t seem to find the right archived entry. It’s worth wandering around his site either way. After your done reading this post.) I agree that the term has gotten a bad wrap, but the concept behind it is valid. As a writer you need a network of other writers to learn from and grow with. And to use for referrals, reviews, and help finding that perfect word that you can’t seem to put your finger on. How do you go about getting this amazing network? I myself am a fan of the pay-it-forward methodology. Give of your time and your unique genius. Help others grow and succeed. Build relationships with other people. Then, when you need help or advice, you’ll feel confident asking your friends and colleagues for some.
  • Find a critique partner. Try Michelle Diener’s Critique Partner Exchange or look on the website of whatever writer’s organization caters to your genre, like RWA. Meet other writers on Twitter… pick some funny, talented ones and recruit them to be in a Crit group with you.
  • Contribute online. No matter how many page views you get with a post, it alway feels a little better to have someone respond. Leave comments.
  • Go to a conference. I haven’t tried this one myself yet. I’m waiting until I have a completed manuscript, but everyone I talk to swears by them and if you’re a little farther along in the process than I am this might be just what you need to get fired up and make some great friends.
  • Think local. Don’t underestimate your local writing community. There’s a special kind of arrogance in thinking that just because you live in Backwoods, MN there could not possibly be another such talented, insightful writer outside of New York for you to connect with. Google your town and terms like critique group, writer’s group, writing classes, etc. Or for the more intrepid writer, get out and talk to people. Librarians, bookstore clerks, and college professors are all great resources that may be able to point you in the right direction.
  • Conduct information interviews with people in the publishing industry. Local authors, small press editors. You don’t have to live in New York to be near some great resources. And everyone loves coffee, right? So send them an email. Invite them to coffee. Flatter them a little and then shamelessly pick their brains. You’ll have fun and learn a lot.
• Make yourself more attractive to publishers.
  • Build your writing credentials. Get your voice out there. You’ll meet great people in the process (networking, again…pesky word) and you’ll demonstrate several things. First, you’ve written something that someone somewhere thinks is worth distributing to the masses (this is the most common, but least important, justification for writing for smaller publications). Second, you build credibility as a writer who can enter into a business relationship and deliver what you promise. Third, your potential editor will appreciate anything you do to make it easier for them to sell you to the rest of the publishing house–think marketing people, bottom-line people, etc. Finally, writing and editing your own work for shorter pieces will sharpen your writing and editing skills. There isn’t much room for fluff in a three-hundred word article.
  • Build an audience online through blogging and social networking… if it’s in line with your personality and skill set. The value of a well-maintained and wide-reaching social network cannot be underestimated. On the other hand, neither can the time, commitment, and creativity it takes to build on. So if you don’t see yourself giving consistently of your own time and talents to build and assist a network, you’d be well-advised to skip that particular step and focus on the other items on this list. A half-hearted blog and a series of sporadic twitter interactions are not a business asset to you as a writer and more than a few pieces of wood and some nails you got from the hardware store. You have to build something. If you think you’re willing to try your hand at a little carpentry, then head on over to Christina Katz’ blog for some free advice or pick up her book ‘Get Known Before The Book Deal‘ for some not-so-free advice.
  • Keep Writing! Start working on the next book today! In the unlikely event that a publisher decides to invest anything more than the bare minimum in pushing a new book by an unknown voice, they need to know that they’ll see a return on their investment. That means that the current book sells well, creating a fan base for the author who will then provide this fan base with a great second book to buy. Soon. Before they forget about said author. In about three point two nanoseconds.
• Get some exercise.
  • Seriously. Save your latest work of art. Power down the laptop. Okay, you don’t have to turn it off. Just close the lid. Go to your closet, find those unattractive shorts you bought a year ago when you thought about going to the gym. Now go outside. Start walking. Don’t come back for at least thirty minutes. You’ll be surprised how much the change of pace and scenery will rev up your creative processes. And that unsightly butt-dent in your leather couch will fade a bit. I personally get bored fast when I’m running so I alternate timed writing sessions with a lap around my block (which happens to be about a mile around). Physical motion often inspires creative motion. If you need a metaphorical crowbar to get off the couch, check out Jean Adams’ article from Write Attitude here.
• Seek out new experiences.
  • Go see a play. Take a vacation. Join a secret society of tree huggers. Try spelunking. Don’t fall into the trap of thinking that writing is living. If you absolutely need a writing-related justification for your extracurricular activities, think about something that your main character does in your novel. Go do it in real life. If it’s legal. Or if you won’t get caught.

That’s all I’ve got for now folks.

Thanks to welcometoalville (@flickr) for feeding my addiction to pictures of typewriters. It is one of many.

Recently my father took me to lunch. We talked about a lot of thing, but my writing kept trying to push its way into the conversation. Finally, he looked at me and said, “So have you given any thought to what you’ll do if you send your novel out and everyone just sort of says ‘Eh, we’ll pass. Better luck next time?’ Will you keep writing?”

I love this man. And I can’t lie to him. Which has been problematic throughout my life. When he asks me a question like this, the lies I have been telling myself never make it past my lips. What does come out often surprises me.

Today my heart rejoiced at the question. Not because it’s an easy one for any writer to contemplate, but because I have wrestled this particular demon before and come away with my hope intact.

I spent the rest of our lunch explaining the dynamics of the publishing process, as I understand them, to my father. I’ve reproduced a shortened-version of that diatribe here to educate the less-informed and invite instruction from the knowledgeable at the same time.

From idea to publication…

1. Write the novel. Lets pretend this takes you a year. That’s pretty quick for a new author to plot, write, revise, revise, revise, revise, revise, and polish their manuscript, but we can dream.
2. Shop an agent. You already have a short list of who you want to represent you. After all you’ve been stalking agents on the internet for the past year. It’s called writer’s block. Have I mentioned how much I love that you can’t get free Wifi at Starbucks? Think about it. Anyway, you send out a round of beautiful query letters. They’re all addressed to the correct person at the correct agency who is actually interested in your genre. They also conform perfectly to all submission guidelines. You wait. A few weeks later you get a letter. You don’t even make it back into the house from the mailbox before ripping it open. Then you wish you hadn’t. What do they mean it’s not for them? It’s perfect for them. Online they say they’re interested in zombie romances told from the viewpoint of rowdy families of fire-breathing frogs. That is exactly what you have written. How could it not be perfect for them? Are they trying to imply something about your novel? Over the next week you receive negative responses from your beloved short-list of agents. Welcome to professional writing. Sit down, rework the query letter if you need to and get a new short list. Try again. And again. And again. In the meantime, read this article about rejection by Maria Snyder.
3. Alleluia, you’ve got an agent! Someone has offered to represent you. It has been three long months. First, you check out the agent thoroughly. Don’t be afraid to ask for references if they can’t point you to a work they’ve represented. Make sure to check the top fraud and “beware of this agent” websites. Okay, you’re ready to accept representation. Your book will be in B&N soon, right? Maybe. Your agent may (will) have you do some editing. When the manuscript is ready, they’ll send it out to editors. A good agent will keep you in the loop on the process. No agent in their right mind will call you every day. Or every week even. When they know something, you’ll know something. Do your best to maintain some semblance of professionalism at this point in the game.
4. An editor shows interest. They call your agent and express their interest. Lets pretend it has only been six months since you landed your agent. You’re cruising. Problem is they have to sell your book to the rest of their editorial team. This includes other people who are not editors–think marketing people and that ever-irritating bottom-line guy in the corner. This may feel a little unfair. You’ve written the best book you know how. Are you really expected to cater to the needs of those other guys in the room? Well, yes and no. Yes if you want to get published. No in the unlikely even that you’ve written the best book the editor has seen in the last year. So take a minute and think about what you’ve done that will help the editor who likes your work sell it to this team full of contrasting needs. More on that tomorrow.
5. An editor makes an offer for your book. You’re a savvy writer. You’ve done all the right things to help your editor sell the book to his team. He’s been successful. He comes back with an offer. Your agent calls you. You put her on speakerphone and proceed to cry, do a handstand, and swear to her your undying gratitude all at the same time. Your husband gets home from work. You jump him. He’s happy you got an offer, too.
6. The real work begins–Getting your manuscript in shape for publication. You edit and edit. You fall in love with the cover art. You call on your extensive network of literary allies to read and blurb your book. You do have an extensive network of literary allies, don’t you? More on that in the future.
7. Your book gets reviewed. The publisher sends out advanced copies of your book to be reviewed by any and everyone willing to read the thing. The Nebraska Fly Fisher Association Journal says some very nice things about the fire-breathing family of frogs.
8. Barnes & Noble decides if it’s interested in carrying your book. Somewhere at B&N there’s a woman looking at your book. Or a description of your book. She’s reading the comments the Nebraska Fly Fisher Association Journal made and wondering why there isn’t also a glowing endorsement from Lee Child. It just so happens that she has recently broken up with her boyfriend who just loved stories about fire-breathing frogs and zombie lovers. She isn’t sure she wants to put up displays for a debut novelist with a name like Lily VanSchmuck. Despite all of this she decides that your book will do moderately well and decides to stock it. Whew, that was a close one. You should probably go read these articles about advertising (Reaching Readers: The Door-to-Door Theory, How to Promote, Advertise, and Market Your Book )to avoid this situation next time. After you’re done reading the rest of this post. And you’re almost done. I promise.
9. Your book hits bookshelves. Somewhere. Rather, at least one copy of your book hits a bookshelf somewhere.
10. Congratulations, you’re a published author.

This process may seem overwhelming at first. It sounds a little hopeless. You may have to reevaluate your definition of success in terms of your writing. Personally, I rejoice in the opportunities the writer has to exercise so much more than just their creativity! And how brightly hope shines against the dark backdrop of adversity.

As you can see, this process can be very long and drawn out. Everyone says that to be a writer you have to be patient. There will be periods of waiting followed by periods of… more waiting. I have to disagree with this philosophy. Being successful as a new writer requires a mountain of sweat equity. There is always something to be working on. If you’ve been sitting around waiting for news ever since you sent off your precious manuscript, you’ve done yourself a major disservice. So what should you have been doing?

I have to go finger paint with an eight year old, so… Tune in tomorrow to find out.