reader. writer.

My weekly check-in on my favorite topics:

What works

Lately, I’ve had to remind myself to use one of my time management tools. I continue to make the calendar on my phone my central system, but I’ve been using a digital daily calendar where I can write out goals and notes for the day, filling it out usually every Sunday. I’m fairly consistent about looking at my phone calendar, but less consistent about looking at the plan for the day. Yet it is a comfort when I do, even if I wind up erasing, rearranging, etc. It calms me down to stop thinking about everything all at once. Just look at this day and what I hope to do with it.

What I’m writing

Slow and steady wins the race, I hope, and I am keeping at it, mostly clearing away minor revisions and sometimes accidentally discovering ways to address larger concerns that were, until that moment, sources of discomfort and uncertainty because I couldn’t quite identify what was wrong, just that something was wrong. The key to handling those challenges, for me at least, is to try not to freak out and just focus on what I can fix, bit by bit, and slowly more pieces fall into place. Well, the word fix might be an exaggeration, but improvements are possible.

What I’m reading

I read Natalie Sue’s I hope this finds you well in one sitting, especially loving the acerbic take on office dynamics. I approved of the pacing and logic of the narrative, an element of craft I need to ponder further. I’ve also been savoring Naomi Novik’s Buried Deep and Other Stories. I’m a huge fan of her Scholomance and Temeraire series, partly because I am blown away by her skill at world-building and because the moral compass of her protagonists is so essential to these stories. This collection includes stories set in both worlds, a treat for a fan like me.

Democracy, yes, please

Today I’m pondering the concept of wicked versus simple problems. I only recently learned these terms, but I find this framing insightful, even liberating. I’ll make a stab at explaining. A simple problem is one that has one straightforward solution. One example might be developing a medicine that cures or prevents a disease. Problem solved. A wicked problem refers to problems that don’t have one direct solution. Historically, poverty is an example of a wicked problem. We can do a lot to reduce it, and we have, but we have no single solution to resolve it. Caring for our environment is a wicked problem because there is not one solution that would make everything fine forever—there are multiple interventions, some of which involve trade-offs, accepting lesser harms to embrace greater benefits.

This comes to mind right now because outrages are occurring in plain sight that could make us long for one simple solution. It’s so tempting to imagine that all it will take is one brave politician or one massive protest or maybe just letting it all fall apart so that (magically?) everything will be better afterwards. Of course, of course, of course, we want a quick and direct solution at the sight of our military invading our own country, or the prospect of life-saving vaccines undermined or eliminated, or morally-bankrupt individuals plotting to deport children in the middle of the night. And of course, the problems that created these bonkers situations are mostly wicked, calling for not one solution but countless interventions. 

Maybe it’s a little like me trying to figure out how to fix problems in my novels. I can’t freak out because I don’t have all the answers. I just have to keep trying to do what I can, even if it’s small, even if it doesn’t fix everything forever. I sometimes say in response to people feeling understandable impatience at the sight of huge challenges that “Even small steps help.” But maybe I’m getting it wrong. It’s not that “even” small steps help, but that small steps turn out to be the only option, countless positive actions taken by countless people, again, and again, and again. And when/if things improve? Keep going. Again and again and again.

Notable words

“…she’d been taught in stories, and she recognized the lesson of the one she was standing in right now. ‘This isn’t all for us,’ she said. ‘We were clever and brave, but we mustn’t be greedy.’”

“…she also felt sure she would never find it again, either. It wouldn’t come a second time, in one life, and she would wonder about it forever, if she had made the right choice.”

From “After Hours” in Naomi Novik’s Buried Deep and Other Stories