How a cluttered bookcase and focusing on copy edits gave me a life hack.
Today… (wait for it…give this a drumroll…) is Clean Out Your Bookcase Day!
It’s Tuesday, February 20, and I offered my daughter a million dollars to help me clean out my bookcases.
She sent me a laugh emoji.
So, I coyly asked my husband if he had any free time this week? Being wise to my wily ways, he shuffled around the post-it notes on his desk (flawless calendar system) and muttered something about doing something more fun like say, getting a colonoscopy.
C’mon now.
Looking through my books is super fun.
So, I want to write that because of them, my bookcases will remain jammed, unalphabetized, stacked with nick-nacks shoved in between or in front of the books. Pretty much unsearchable.
But to be honest, the bookcase clean-up also was a handy procrastination ploy to keep me from the real work I need to do. Distraction is just easier than concentration.
Almost overnight, we’ve all been trained to default to digital whenever there’s a free moment. I know I auto-reach for my phone the first second there’s a tiny break of activity. Yet, recently, instead of wringing my hands (or hiding my phone), I made a little rediscovery: It’s joyful to focus deeply on one thing at a time.
Let me give an example. This lesson’s come about in real-time by reviewing copy edits for my book. As you read it, notice the angles of thought.
Distraction-free Concentration
I’m a newbie at working with copy edits, but for me, here’s what the copy-edit focus looks like:
Check the Facts, Ma’am. Because it’s historical fiction I’m rechecking the details I realized I made up as I was in the flow of writing. Like “she sniffed a hint of lavender on the envelope.” My new BFF is ChatGPT who answers my query: “Did people scent envelopes with lavender in 1890 in Paris?” And then, the answer spills out on the screen, complete with rabbit hole references I can burrow into. Yes, ChatGPT is not error-free, but it’s an efficient start. Turns out, I’ve caught a few gaffes in my story.
Timeline Squish. The copy edit brings back the intentional deviations I took from the chronology of events. In a few cases, I squished the timeline to improve drama and keep the story moving. The deviations are fodder for my author notes so I can let the reader know when I time hopped.
Recalling Anecdotes. Third, the copy edit is bringing back little experiences I had while researching and writing. Like how on a research trip to Paris, my husband and I ducked into a little building near the Montmartre Museum, and we came across a black-and-white continuously running video. Though it was all in French, we discerned it was about artists who had lived in that outskirt area of Paris. Imagine our surprise: Right smack in the middle of the dozen artist photos, up popped Theo van Gogh! A character in my book and Jo’s husband. The only art dealer mentioned because he was such an ahead-of-his-time advocate for modern art. It brought home the importance he had for that time. I felt like I’d come across an old acquaintance at a party. So, I’m jotting down the anecdotes as I recall them so I can share them later. Perhaps here or in an essay or a podcast in the future.
Oops, What’s Left Out. And there are the excellent catches and questions the copy editor asks: Like, hey, did I realize I never told the reader Anna was Jo’s childhood BFF? Little bits of info lodged in my brain that didn’t get onto the page. I’m writing in those bits now.
New Insights. Since it’s been months since I read the story through, beginning at the beginning and reading forward, I’m seeing new moments inherent in the story. The “why” behind details. Like how the antagonist loves his marble green desk because it reflects his snobbery and pretension at being all-that.
A connected network of ideas springs to life when concentrating. A cascade of creativity. The synapsis spark of recall. Instead of the copy edit being a beast of burden, I’m finding I’m energized.
Instead of “time poverty”, in those moments, I feel time wealthy.
Life Hack, You’re Welcome
Concentration comes at a cost. Most valuable things do. My tradeoff is that though the bookcases stand sentry at the side of my desk—sturdily holding dreams and adventures and beautiful spine-tingling passages and naked truth—I can’t rely on finding exactly what I’m looking for when I need to. Instead, they hold the possibility of fresh discovery.
Kinda like deep focus.
Do you have any hacks for cutting down on distractions?
Warmly,
P.S. Origin of this momentous holiday. Clean Out Your Bookcase Day.
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