Tag: goal setting

How Important is Your Plan to Your Outcome

by Allie P., posted in Book Stuff and Publishing News, Life as I know it

How Important is Your Plan to Your Outcome - www.alliepottswrites.comA three-day weekend loomed in front of us and our plan was to have no plan. We’d sleep in as much as the children allowed. We’d stay in. After being away from home most weekends in August, my husband and I were looking forward to tackling a few projects but generally doing nothing more than relaxing. It would be a weekend to simply enjoy being a family.

It was a good plan.

I’d no sooner stepped out of my bedroom Saturday morning when I was met in the hall by my eldest son and his best friend, Biff. “Mom! Biff invited me to go with them to a mud run. Can I go? Can I?” I blinked. I hadn’t drunk enough coffee that morning to be able to process that level of excitement. It was a wonder I’d even gotten into my day clothes already.

I stalled. “Those things usually cost money.”

“My mom will take care of it,” Biff assured me.

I felt like there was something I was missing. Kiddo would be out of the house all morning? He’d be exercising instead of alternating between begging me to allow him to binge-watch his latest favorite cartoon (there are only six seasons, mom), creating Lego minefields, or complaining about how bored he was and I wouldn’t have to pay for it? It seemed too good to be true.

It was.

We learned no such offer had been authorized. Sure, Kiddo was welcome to come along (the more the merrier!) but the insurance waiver clearly stated that a legally responsible adult must be present along with every child. One of us, either my husband or I, would have to go with Kiddo else live with a weekend long case of ‘you are the worst parents ever!’ There went our relaxing morning.

My husband and I faced off like gunslingers at noon in an old western.

“It’s only a couple of miles,” my husband pointed out.

“You are the one training to run another marathon,” I reminded his father.

*do-la-doooooo wha wha whaaaaaa*

“Please?” I swear Kiddo batted his eyelashes. (Don’t ask me where he learned that trick).

My husband broke first. “I’ll go change.”

LT, our youngest, caught wind of the conversation. He had no idea what a mud run was, but his brother and father were going. He would not be left out or heads would roll (as would the rest of him as his tantrums are typically full body affairs). Then all four of us were at the starting line with the elder Potts guys in their work out attire and me and LT standing on the spectator side with a camera and their spare clothes.

A fog horn blew and then they were off.

How Important is Your Plan to Your Outcome - www.alliepottswrites.com
This is after he swam across a pond. My washing machine is demanding a raise

A short time later, two incredibly filthy smiling faces crossed the finish line. I know they were smiling because the only part that wasn’t covered in brown was their shiny teeth. The shoes they’d worn were tossed in a pile which would be industrially cleaned and donated to those in need. A large tanker truck provided the water needed to remove the mud from Kiddo’s ear. Speakers blasted music while LT grabbed fistfuls of grass and rubbed them into his hair and across his belly in order to look like one of the participants. We hadn’t brought a change of clothes for him, but I found I didn’t mind. Not one part of the morning had gone to plan, but it was still a good morning.

No. It was a better morning.

I am a planner by nature as much as by habit. I set goals. I track milestones. I know how to keep a program advancing, but though it is making me twitchy writing this, there are times you have to focus on the outcome, but let the plan go.

“Stay committed to your decisions, but stay flexible in your approach.” – Tony Robbins

I was supposed to have another book out by now, but my characters rebelled. I found myself asking what was more important? My outline or my outcome.

I thought my outline was a good one. I’d put real thought into it. I’d spent hours if not days planning and pacing. I’d created character profiles and scene summaries. I’d researched setting. It should have worked, but it didn’t, and ultimately I allowed myself the flexibility to adapt moving forward. I picked outcome.

Though I hate that it has taken so long to get to this point, I have to admit my characters were right. I rewrote my plan. I altered my method. I’ve received my feedback from my beta readers and all that is left to do is a few manageable rewrites and work through my final edits before sending it out to the next round of advanced proof readers (if that sounds like something you’d enjoy, please contact me at allie AT alliepottswrites DOT com).

The path to publishing this book may have deviated from my plan. It’s taken a few twists and gotten messy along the way but my commitment has never wavered. With a little patience and a whole lot of support, I will publish this book and it may just be better than I ever planned for.

What Rogue One can teach about writing and resolutions

by Allie P., posted in Life as I know it

 

What Rogue One can teach about #writing and #resolutions
background image courtesy of www.Flickr.com

I’m not entirely sure how it happened, especially as I’ve been held hostage this week, or as my children call it, celebrating winter break, but the hubby and I actually managed to sneak out long enough to watch Rogue One.

Yeah, I am as stunned as you.

And it was awesome. But I’m not here to divulge spoilers. Nor am I here to write a tribute to Carrie Fisher, as deserved as that might be. No I want to talk about what Rogue One can teach us about story telling and life in general.

Work toward an ending

The premise of Rogue One was simple. It exists to answer the question as to how the rebels got the plans to the Death Star in the first place, a catalyst event that sets off all the events of the next three movies in the original franchise. The ending of their story was clear, the beginning – not so much, forcing the screenwriters to work backwards. And it was a effective technique. It worked so well, I found myself surprised as well as satisfied by the ending, even though I knew full well what it would be before I purchased my ticket.

This same concept can be applied to planning any goal, not just writing.

I’m not a huge fan of New Year’s Resolutions. To me, they are far too easy to make and therefore far too easy to break. So I don’t set New Year’s Resolutions. Instead I set one to three wildly optimistic End of Year Goals.

Then I work backwards, setting smaller monthly and weekly goals for myself, all in support of the larger ones. So that at year’s end I am not disappointed by how many resolutions I have broken, but instead motivated by how much more I have accomplished.

It is okay not to have an answer for everything

There are certain questions Rogue One doesn’t answer, such as what was the rift between factions the Rebel Alliance wants to mend so desperately or who keeps awarding the Imperial console button contracts to the most lost cost industrial switch manufacturer the galaxy has ever seen when they obviously utilize high-end contracts for sleek exterior ship design. There could be spin-off on spin-offs of stories if the writers choose to answer everything, but in this case I think it is a better experience to let the viewer’s or reader’s imaginations fill in the blanks. A few loose ends can keep a story interesting.

Likewise, even with my goals, I’ve accepted there are certain areas of my life, both personally and professionally, I don’t have mapped out, at least not for this year. That’s okay. A little bit of unknown now just means I have choices to explore later, or goals still out there to achieve.

Rebellions are built on hope

This is a line used a few times in the movie, a somewhat tongue in cheek reference to the title of the next movie in line in the series, A New Hope. But it is also true. In order for any well written story to progress, a character must first believe that change is possible. They have to believe deep in their core that they can evade a vastly superior military force, complete a foolhardy mission, or otherwise avenge a loved one. Otherwise what is the point of leaving home in the first place.

The past year will not go down as a personal favorite of mine for a number of reasons. But that is no reason enough for me to believe the coming year will be more of the same. I will instead continue to focus on what I can change, whether that change be big or small, rather than what is out of my control. I may not achieve all my big goals this year, but no matter the outcome, I will be closer tomorrow than I am today for trying. Because I am one with the force, the force is with me.

May you all have an equally happy and force-full New Year

The Pokemon Exchange and one elementary success

by Allie P., posted in Life as I know it

The #Pokemon Exchange and one #elementary #success - www.alliepottswrites.comIt was a quiet morning. This was most unusual as it was also my turn to escort my kids as well as two of their school aged cousins to the bus stop. Now normally, I would have soothed at least one tear fest, brokered a toy sharing deal that would make a UN negotiator proud, or cleaned up someone’s accident by this point, but none of this had happened. I was immediately suspicious.

I found my eldest, Kiddo and his cousin, Casimir, deep into discussions in the center of our den. Sipping my coffee, I carefully approached, stopping close enough to listen in to the conversation, but far enough away as to not alert them to my attention. The green folder laying next to them coupled with an open white box told me all I needed to know. The source of my peaceful morning was none other than Pokemon.

My brothers, who are a wee bit younger than me, were told under the most severe threats of doom not to discuss Pokemon with my kids. I’d seen the madness that was their individual collections first hand. I’d heard their conversations with my stepmom about rare species and evolved forms. My ears had suffered under the constant refrain of the cartoon’s theme song once before. Not in my house, I’d decried.

But then the unthinkable happened. Pokemon Go became a thing,

Okay, Allie, I told myself, no need to panic. Kiddo doesn’t have a phone or anything (or at least he didn’t at the time). He’s not going to get sucked into playing the app.

And he didn’t. Something even worse happened. Some kid on the bus gave him and his cousin a few trading cards. The kid thought it was no big deal. After all, the cards were his or her duplicates and being apparently a nice well-meaning child, the kid simply wanted to share. Darn you public school system on your new emphasis on empathy, inclusion, and anti-bullying behavior!

Trading card the Pokemon Exchange on www.alliepottswrites.com
Catching them all together truly presents a challenge

Before I knew it, three cards became ten, which somehow continued to multiply to twenty to fifty. Kiddo, as sympathetic as the child on the bus, wanted to share his good fortune with his brother, LT. LT was delighted and their joint collection grew further. Despite my best efforts, I was forced to accept that Pokemon mania had taken root in my house. Reluctantly I raised the white flag.

My stepmom, who is likely overjoyed at the chance to de-clutter her house, was kind enough to divide my brother’s collection into boxes for each of the kids, leaving it up to them to broker individual trades later, which was exactly what Kiddo and Casimir were in the process of doing that morning.

Deal done, Casimir proudly announced to his sister, my niece, Xena that he had secured ten new cards all for a single rare whatsityacallit. Xena looked at the cards in his hands. Her eyes grew wide. “I want ten cards!” she declared rushing into the den where Kiddo still remained.

“Okay,” Kiddo nodded like a retail proprietor, “what will you trade?”

“I want ten cards,” Xena stated again.

“What are you going to trade for them?” Kiddo repeated.

“Trade?” She batted her eyelashes.

“Yeah. Casimir gave me a whatsityacallit. I will give you ten cards, but you have to give me a rare card. That’s a trade.”

“But I want them soooooo badly,” Xena replied.

I took another large gulp of my coffee as way of fortifying myself against whatever tantrum was sure to follow.

“I can give you one card, but I won’t give you ten unless you trade me for it.” Kiddo offered, diffusing the explosive situation. I supposed I might have interceded at this point, but if Kiddo wanted to be generous with his collection and we avoided a melt-down I was all for it. Bless that child.

Xena scanned his collection. Grinning from ear to ear she proudly held out her newest card for all the world to see as we made our way to the bus stop.

Now when I first observed this entire exchange, I thought the lesson worth sharing here was that no one will simply give you what you want just because you state you want it. You have to do the work. You have to make the trade. But now that I’ve written it all out, I realize that while my niece didn’t secure the ten cards she requested, she still managed to leave with more than she started out with, and at no personal cost. All she had to do was simply state her intended desire at the right place, right time, and most importantly of all to the right person.

My niece may have a future on Wall Street.

So I guess the lesson here is this – while doing the work certainly helps achieve an exponentially greater result, if you openly announce your goal, others are more likely to help you on your path to success (however you define the word).

To that end, (and those who know me understand how hard this next part is for me to do) I am announcing that in addition to writing books, I also offer design services including logo design, covers, and book formatting, because apparently writing books, being a mom, and working full-time leaves me with free time in need of filling (yes, I also think my head needs examination). You can check out samples of my work at Logo and Book Design Services. While I do use stock art, depending on budget, I can also offer a quote with custom photography or illustration and I’d love the opportunity to discuss a project with you.

May your goals for the new year be equally successful.

 

Temptation makes victory taste ever more sweet

by Allie P., posted in Book Stuff and Publishing News, Life as I know it

If I take this statue will a giant round boulder come out and try to crush me?

There they lay, within reach, and yet to do so was entirely forbidden. It would be so easy, I told myself. All I had to do was open up one of kiddo’s packaged snacks from the basket in the pantry and chew. All those delicious salty treats were mine for the taking. But I’d made a promise to myself to limit my carb intake, particularly over the next thirty days, as the scale had taken issue with my summer beach excesses.

“She’d started taking up a lot of bad habits”, I imagined its snide electronic voice justifying itself to my toothbrush and my towel as they discussed my morning routine. “You both just help her stay hygienic. I, however, am helping her make better lifestyle choices.” I am sure both towel and brush would roll their eyes if they had them, but that awful scale had a point. I had enjoyed my summer a wee bit too much and it was starting to show.

You know what the secret to weight loss is? Don’t eat much.” – Simon Cowell
(Gee thanks, Simon)

It came to a head one Tuesday evening. There, on the table, were all the fixings for tacos which had become our weekly staple since the Lego Movie first introduced the children to the concept of Taco Tuesday. A pair of tortillas waited for me to add lettuce, beef, and cheese, with a dollop of yogurt just as I had done the Tuesday before and the Tuesday before that.

“After today I am going to limit my sugar and bread for awhile,” I announced to the hubby. “At least for the next thirty days.” Lamont looked at his own plate and agreed to support me by doing the same. We both were in the mood to change up the dietary cycle. We wouldn’t cut it out altogether, we agreed, as that was next to impossible seeing as both ingredients were hidden in way too much. To avoid them altogether would involve *gasp* actually reading labels. But we would try not to intentionally consume either.

I’m not going to lie. It wasn’t easy. I’d gotten into a habit of having a bit of ice cream in the evening after tucking the boys in their beds. A reward for successfully surviving another day. Suddenly I was out my reward. The cravings started to chip away at my resolve.

“Lead us not into temptation. Just tell us where it is; we’ll find it.” – Sam Levenson

Brilliantly (at least in our opinion), we decided to make our own dessert. We had plenty of plain greek yogurt in the fridge. Add a few berries and some honey and poof. Instant ice cream substitute. We even added a little cinnamon to give it a bit more pizzaz!

And other meal times took on a bit more excitement as we managed to break away from our weekly routine, replacing the stand-bys with things like zucchini pasta or eggs poached inside an avocado. This whole “sacrifice” wasn’t one.

Then my mom’s birthday came along with a visit by my sister. After a celebratory dinner, the smell of a fruit pie tempted my nose. A bit more of my resolve chipped away. But still, I remained strong, empowered by what I had accomplished before. There was nothing to this goal. Or so I thought until I entered the final days of my self-imposed thirty-day challenge.

Then the air began to change. Fall has arrived and with it will be the assault on my senses that is pumpkin spice. I do so love the smell of Fall. If you listen very carefully, you might yet hear the sound of my scale crying. If my resolve started out as a mighty oak tree, it is now only a splinter of its former self.

“What makes resisting temptation difficult for many people is they don’t want to discourage it completely.” Franklin P. Jones

A friend of mine suggested I read Stephen Pressfield’s book The War of Art in which the author theorizes that our brains are somehow wired to resist completing goals. While I haven’t yet read the book (though fully intend to) I can’t help thinking he might be on to something. I was so close to writing End of Book Two in this current draft, and yet my characters keep drawing out the action. No matter how much I wrote, there was still more to do. More to say.

It was so very tempting to simply type THE END before the story is ready and short circuit the process. And if I did? Would it really matter? This is not my final draft. I’ll be rewriting an editing next. I could grab those chips as well. One small bag on day 29 isn’t going to make a difference in the scheme of things. Who would know?

I would.

And so, while my resolve may only be a splinter, that splinter wedged itself deeply under my skin. I can’t ignore it. I can’t make a move without feeling its pain.

And so, I stood fast over these final few days. What’s a couple hundred more words compared to the many I’ve written thus far? Certainly not enough to lose heart now. I wrote and I wrote and I wrote until the words END OF BOOK TWO were no longer words in my head but words on a screen. Yes. You read that right. This draft is finished. Now on to round two.

I pull back from the pantry and fixed a salad instead. It might not taste quite as good to my sugar biased tastes, but victory continues to be more satisfying.

As a reminder, I will be on the air Friday, September 23rd at 6pm Eastern time. The link to follow is http://www.blogtalkradio.com/writestream/2016/09/23/the-speculative-fiction-cantina-with-madeleine-holly-rosing-and-allie-potts

Climbing the stairway to heaven

by Allie P., posted in Life as I know it, Personal Favorites

I had been working in Hong Kong for a few weeks when my hubby joined me for a visit. Granted some free time, we decided to go exploring beyond the urban sprawl. I had already had my fill of skyscrapers, wall to wall people, and open air markets. I wanted to go some place quiet, someplace I could hear myself think. Luckily there were a number of options. Considering its association with a large communist state, Hong Kong is remarkably tolerant of religion and has a slew of temples and other houses of worship scattered across its territory. Located on the second largest island is a Buddhist temple that welcomes believers and tourists alike. It seemed like the perfect place for us to go.

big buddha base

The rainy season was threatening to begin at any moment. The skyline was marred with heavy cloud cover. This temple boasted a huge bronze statue high above the tree line, only you couldn’t see any of it from the ground below. From our vantage, the statue might not exist at all. Sure, plenty of people claimed it was there, but that could easily be some prank pulled on unsuspecting tourists. The only thing we could see was a staircase that continued into what seemed like infinity.

My legs hurt just looking at it (they still do), but we hadn’t come all this way to look at a staircase. We had to go up, and up, and up some more (Hong Kong takes their stair building seriously).

view from big buddhaAfter 500 burnt calories or so we were still only half-way up. The clouds hadn’t gotten any thinner either. I had already gotten what I wanted out of this experience. We were relatively alone on this staircase to nowhere. It was so quiet and peaceful at the landing. I was able to hear myself think, but that might not have been a good thing. I started wondering what was the point of getting to the top. We weren’t going to be able to see anything. Why bother? If we turned around now, at least gravity would make the way easier.

I started wondering what was the point of getting to the top. We weren’t going to be able to see anything. Why bother? If we turned around now, at least gravity would make the way easier.

Not party to my inner whiner, my hubby kept on going. Peace and quiet weren’t his goals, he wanted to see the giant statue. Occasionally it is a problem when our goals don’t line up, but this was one of those expectations. I might have another chance to come back on a day with better weather, but it was unlikely he would. It was now or never. I grit my teeth and continued after him. I’d make it to the top for his sake.

big buddha statue Hong KongThe wind picked up as we climbed higher. Suddenly the clouds parted, and there it was. The bronze statue was not one of those fat and happy Buddhas I was used to seeing in American Chinese restaurants. This version was not grinning from ear to ear, made to look like everything was some big joke. Instead, he appeared accepting, calm, and serene though still with a hint of a smile. His hand was raised up in greeting and welcome.

The wind died back down and the clouds rolled back in, but I had seen the statue. I knew it was there and it was closer than I expected. Those final flights of stairs didn’t seem quite as impossible anymore. I could do this.

The news recently has been quite disheartening, to the point that I am tempted to never turn the TV back on again as if that could in some way stop the events from happening. The damage in Nepal, catastrophic, the loss of life, tragic. Where do you even start rebuilding? How can you possibly mourn so many lost? Closer to home, there have been riots against a system that has so many broken parts that it can be fixed only through a massive undertaking. It seems like we are at the bottom of those stairs. We only can hope that if we work hard we may yet find a better future, but there is no guarantee that we will like the results. And yet, turning around is not an option. If we are to find the peace we seek, we must first take the first step.

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