Finding Gratitude

Holidays are strange this year, and I am working hard at trying to find things to be thankful for. Last week a friend started a daily gratitude post, finding something small to be thankful for every day. I posted several things over the week, but this week has been tough, and right now I am having to work hard to find some gratitude.

Our aging beach cottage with the new building looming over it from the back yard. And yes, that is Herbie in front of the house.

Our house is older than I am, and it's showing its age. We have known all along that we had "vintage" plumbing and occasionally it would remind us. This is an old beach cottage from the WWII era, with a single bathroom. We have become regular customers of the local drain cleaning service to keep everything running properly. A couple weeks ago the tub/shower started draining slowly. With COVID we were hesitant to have anyone in to work on it, if we could avoid it. We took quick showers and tried not to over-tax the plumbing. Then the sink started draining slowly, but the tub suddenly drained normally again. So, kind of good news?

Then came this week.

Yesterday I got news that the candidate we liked had accepted our offer and I would have a replacement to train. Woohoo! I get to go back to my retirement - except he can't start until January, and will need several weeks of training, so it will still be a couple months before I can re-retire.

Some months certainly feel longer than others...

I came home from work and headed to my office to write a column for today. Because this month, in addition to its other issues, has five Sundays which means adding an extra post to the schedule.

I pushed the power button on the computer. Nothing. Tried it several times. Still nothing. It eventually started, but it was far too quiet. Still, I could open files, and load programs. Took a couple minutes to realize there was no fan noise. I immediately shut it down and suddenly "computer replacement" moved to the top of the list. Yes, I might be able to repair it, but it's at least a decade old (prehistoric for a computer) and whatever we fix this time, something else will likely break soon.

Ate dinner, watched a little TV, did some online window shopping for a new computer, and realized it was getting late. Time for a quick shower and bed.

But the universe wasn't through with me. Nope. It comes in threes, right?

Stepped in the shower and realized the water wasn't draining. At all. Of course this happened on a Friday night, because nothing in the house ever messes up on a Tuesday morning when there's a repair person easily available. Nope! Friday night.

Showers are wonderful things. Most of the time.

So here I am, trying to find things to be grateful for.

There's a YouTube personality I follow, Justin Scarred. I will write a recommendation for his videos and podcasts at some point, but I want to shout out to him for the basis of the things he posts. A few years back when he was in a really lousy situation he adopted what he calls his Quest for Positivity, and his posts often reference his struggle to maintain a positive attitude.

Certainly positivity and mindfulness won't cure depression or fix brain chemistry, but his choice to share his struggle and to encourage others is refreshing and reassuring.

Today I am listening to one of his recent podcasts, and it's helping. So I will course-correct my response to my current situation.

Yes, I am still working, but I know there is a time limit of just a couple months. Ten weeks or so. It's not a lifetime, it's just a pause.

Yes, I need to replace my computer, but at least it didn't crash and refuse to restart, or destroy the hard disk. I can recover the information that's there, and I have the important stuff backed up. Besides that, I don't need a super-duper, top-of-the-line machine - and I can afford to buy what I need.

Yes, we have to have someone come in and deal with the plumbing, but we know reliable, affordable services here in town who will likely be available without too much delay. Even if there is a delay I work in a top-tier hotel and if the plumber can't get here quickly we can always stay at the hotel a day or two.

Yes, a bunch of stupid stuff went wrong this week, but a lot went right, too.

I have managed to make up a lot of work in the office, and there is definite progress being made. In addition, my staff (that feels so strange after 20+ years of being staff) are amazing and they are learning and doing more and more with each passing week.

My family are all healthy, and with the encouraging news coming out on the vaccine front we are able to redouble our efforts to stay safe, knowing things will change for the better.

I found health insurance for my husband, still a little too young for Medicare, that will provide adequate care and won't to break the bank.

Even with the computer problems I was able to use one of our other machines and produce that fifth-Sunday column I needed, and get it posted on time.

We had a lovely Thanksgiving dinner with friends who are in our "bubble," and while we couldn't have the kids with us, they each had people within their "bubbles" with whom they could share the day.

We roasted our own turkey here at home, and we have lots of leftovers for the freezer.

Really - that's a lot to be grateful for!

Joy of Creating/Creating Joy

Are you one of those people who can politely be described as a "highly motivated individual"? Workaholic is such a loaded word after all. Do you feel as though there has to be a practical purpose to everything you do? A payoff, if you will?

You don't need to raise your hands, but I suspect many of you out there are feeling a little flash of recognition. You have spent your entire life trying to make every second count, calculating the return on your investment of time. You have, in short, worked toward a goal every day.

You climbed that stairway of accomplishment every single day. Is that what you want to continue doing in retirement?

Now you have time on your hands, perhaps for the first time in your life, and you're excited at the prospect of finally having the time to dive into the creative pursuit that has always been at the bottom of the priority list.

That combination of experience, available time, and enthusiasm can lead you back down the path you just left at the day job. You could easily fall into the familiar pattern and make your creative pursuit a new career.

You could turn your new freedom into another job.

Does this look like where you want to spend your retirement? (And talk about a throwback, that's actually an ashtray next to the desk! When was the last time you saw THAT?)

Wait! I hear you say. Doesn't that contradict some of your other advice? Shouldn't we be taking our craft seriously? Protecting our creative time? Budgeting to pay for materials and classes and research?

Of course you should, and therein is the inherent conundrum of being creative. You must both find joy in your creativity and at the same time take it quite seriously.

Why, after all, do we equate joy with frivolity? Why is creating joy seen as an inherently indulgent and self-centered activity? Indeed, for most of us the impulse to create is to eventually share our creation with others. One of our most human impulses is to offer up what we have created to friends, family, even strangers, in the hope of sharing our story and our vision. We want to invite others into our world.

This picture always makes me smile. Aside from the memories of a wonderful visit to Florida, the sheer audacity of this design amuses me.

But beyond that, the act of creation itself should be a source of joy. We need to allow ourselves to experience the thrill that comes from bringing something into existence from nothing,

What I am advocating here is that you make and protect your creative time in order to do something you want to do, not something you have to do.

Look at it this way. You have worked a job for decades. You hauled yourself out of bed, you dressed a certain way, you commuted a set distance, you performed your tasks, met your deadlines, fulfilled your obligations. You repeated this routine every day for years.

Hey, guess what! You aren't a cog any more. Celebrate, and find joy in your creative life.

For some of you there was a hidden question, a fear of retirement that you may not have shared with anyone. You may not have even acknowledged it to yourself.

How will you fill your time in retirement?

All those days in an office, or classroom, or assembly line. all the hours at a cash register, or on a telephone, or in front of a computer - you knew where your time went. You had a schedule and a plan. What would you do when that regimen disappeared? The temptation may be to replace one job with another. To give yourself a new job.

How about never? Don't turn your creative life into just another job!

Maybe you loved your job, or maybe you didn't. Maybe you thoroughly enjoyed what you did, or maybe you didn't. And maybe you felt a sense of pride and accomplishment at succeeding in your given field. Or not.

But loved or hated or merely tolerated, that life is behind you. What's ahead is whatever you make it, and I honestly believe you shouldn't make it yet another job. Life, as they say (especially when you are retirement age), is too short. Spend your third act doing what you love, what brings you joy.

It's time to look ahead, to find joy in your creative life and the adventures to come.

Don't dilute that joy by making your creative pursuit a "have to." You may want to, you may need to, but don't "have to."

Being retired, having the time for your creative life, is something you have harbored deep in your heart for a long time. Give yourself over to the joy of creating, and give yourself the gift of joy.

Life is too short for anything else.

You Don't Want to be Supergirl

Remember the scene in "Alice In Wonderland' at the Mad Hatter's tea party? The March Hare and the Mad Hatter at a table full of whistling teapots, singing "A Very Merry Un-Birthday?"

Look out for this guy, and his un-birthday party. You may get an un-gift that messes up your plans.

Well, that's the state of my retirement. Or, as a friend calls it, my un-retirement. Yes, I have fallen down that rabbit-hole again. Or should I say I've fallen further down that rabbit-hole, because I never really got out of it.

A few weeks back I admitted that I was working for my old employer for a short time, helping out with a project and working remotely. That all changed a couple weeks ago when my boss- who had started just a few months before I retired-left the company.

Disrupted doesn't begin to describe the situation. Work had fallen behind during various shutdowns and re-openings. Some daily tasks were current, but there were critical long-term processes that were delayed by weeks and even months.

It was, in a nutshell, a special kind of disaster.

This is far too close to the real thing. It certainly felt like this when I walked back in the office.

Which also made it a challenge I couldn't resist. It was a rescue mission for which I was uniquely qualified, they were offering me a serious salary bump and the restoration of all my benefits, some nice perks, the freedom to set my own schedule, and the opportunity to sit in the Big Chair for a few weeks.

I agreed to come back while they (with my help) searched for a replacement. We are interviewing candidates, and my hope is that I will only work about three months before returning to retirement.

If I am completely honest I must admit I am kind of digging being the boss. I have proven to myself that I have the knowledge and stamina to do the top job, a job I didn't even apply for when it first came open. I have performed well beyond what I thought I could do, and that feeling of accomplishment is seductive-to say nothing of the financial boost.

I've done it by being onsite every day, and by working ten hours a day. I've done it by sharpening my focus and staying on task. I've done it by delegating-something at which I am not good, being more inclined to reason that it will get done faster and more accurately if I just do it myself.

Superman (girl) socks from the Las Vegas Sock Market. I earned these, but maybe not the way you think!

I want to believe that under other circumstances I wouldn't have been so susceptible. But the truth is that we are all, every one of us, operating from a place of extreme stress and uncertainty. Our sense of self, and of self-worth, has been battered by outside forces. We are all dealing with some level of PTSD. Except it isn't really "post" yet.

In the turmoil of the pandemic, when all my carefully-laid plans have been thrown out the window with no hope of restoration any time soon, a familiar job seemed like a welcome distraction. It promised a salve for my self-image that was suffering from the malaise brought on by the lockdown. More than what I have done for the job, however, is what the job has done for me-beyond the financial boost and the ego strokes.

It has reminded me why I wanted to retire in the first place.

Not for the travel that we planned. Not for lazy mornings with a good book and a cup of coffee. Not for the freedom from other people's schedules. Not for the ability to shelve the professional clothes in favor of jeans and sweatshirts. Not even for relief from those 10-hour days.

All of those things are great, don't get me wrong. But that isn't the greatest thing I will take away from these weeks.

The biggest thing this job is giving me is the message, loud and clear, that I want time to create.

I need time to create. I am happiest when I have a creative outlet, and my brain is engaged.

I know what a slippery slope this is. I am performing well, the boss has nicknamed me "Supergirl" for the help I am providing, and I enjoy my co-workers. I could fall back into the routine, into the steady paycheck, into the role of "Supergirl." I was #2 for twenty-one years, and the #1 job could be mine if I wanted it.

THIS is how I earned those socks. For my 70th birthday I promised myself I would "fly like Superman" on the Slotzilla zip line in Las Vegas. It was about four months before I got the chance, but it was worth the wait!

Oh, and I got a T-shirt, too. Because, really, I deserved both!

But what would be the cost?

Aside from dealing with the stress and exhaustion that are inherent in any job at that level-even without the rescue mission aspect-the biggest cost would be to my creative life.

When I work at a desk for ten hours a day, I don't have a lot of mental energy to devote to creating. In addition, I don't want to sit in front or a computer for any length of time. Eye strain and fatigue are real, and while I have recovered from the cataract surgery I am still adjusting to my "new" eyes.

It's not just my creative life, either. I have less time for household chores, for keeping up my Patreon page, for personal business, and the time and energy for those have to come from somewhere.

There are no housework fairies in my world (more's the pity) and the bathroom still needs to be scrubbed, meals still need to be prepared (though my husband helps a lot) and the floors need to be cleaned.

In short, I can feel myself back in the place I was before-wanting to be free to create but with exhaustion and stress draining all the energy I want to give to my creativity.

I don't want to be in that place any more, and a visit is serving to remind me why. It reinforces my resolve to fix the problems quickly, leave the place in good order, and make this a short stay followed by a permanent departure.

In some ways I am very grateful. This situation has shown me what I can do, reminded me of my value, reinforced my sagging self-image. But more important is that it has renewed my resolve to clear time and conserve energy for the things that really matter.

I will try to remember this lesson.

And if I don't I will come back to this post and remind myself how important it is to protect my creativity.

Fill the Well

Over the years, as you struggled to fit your creative life around all the demands of your everyday responsibilities, you carefully guarded whatever moments you were able to steal for yourself.

Now that you're retired, or at least thinking about retiring, it seems as though you will have all the time you need to create. You don't have to go to an office or shop for eight hours a day. Lots of time!

But there is one aspect of creative life that we sometimes overlook, and this new freedom to create could slowly dim your creative spark and leave you wondering why you wanted to create in the first place.

Creative people describe this feeling in different ways: you have writer's block, your muse is missing, you're just too busy/tired/overwhelmed.

When you have no ideas left, there just might be a reason.

But often what really happens is that you have drained the well and you aren't refilling and refreshing it. You've spent so much time and energy on your creative output that you forgot about - or neglected - your creative input.

This happens to all creatives to a greater or lesser extent. You focus on a project, you pour all your energy (or at least all the energy that isn't drained by the demands of day-to-day living) into it, and you spend every spare minute devoted to creating the perfect story, painting, quilt, cabinet. In short, you become dedicated to the project, and the underlying creativity gets ignored.

When you're retired, when you have more time and energy that isn't being demanded by the dreaded day job, it's possible for that focus, that dedication, to quickly overshadow absolutely everything else until the project is complete. It can drain you of your creative energy and leave you with no reserve for the next project.

 In order to create, you need to feed your creativity. You need to fill the well. You need to consume the product of someone else's creativity and find inspiration and passion in their creations.

You can look for a wishing well, or you can find a well of creativity and keep re-filling it. The choice is up to you. (Pro Tip: One of them works a LOT better!)

As a writer I read other writers' works to learn from them. I study their craft and the techniques they use to create their worlds and their stories. I learn from their work. I am sure fabric artists and painters and woodworkers do the same thing; they learn new skills from watching the work of others - and in the age of the Internet it's so much easier to find someone to learn from. Thousands of video, audio, and text lessons and workshops are available online at every hour of the day or night, all within a few keystrokes (and sometimes the application of your credit card). That is not what I am talking about.

I am talking about being a consumer of creative content, and that's also available online as well as in person.

If you're a visual artist, go to a museum or an art gallery. Soak in the beauty that your fellow artists have created. Let it speak to your heart, not your head, and nurture your own creative energy. Don't focus on the brush strokes, or mentally catalog the different schools of art represented. Find something that makes you feel good and just look at it as a whole.

We can't all take a jet to Paris to visit the Louvre, but there are local art museums and galleries, and many museums now offer video tours online

If music is your outlet, go to a concert or a recital, or listen to something that brings you joy. Don't pay attention to the bowing technique of the cellist, or the fingering of the guitarist, of the breath control of the sax player. Listen to the music, the wave of sensation that comes with letting yourself sink into the sound, and let it fill you.

If you don't have a concert or theater venue nearby, look for online and streaming alternatives. Make it an event. Dim the lights, shut off the phone (just like you do in the theater-you do turn your phone off in the theater, don't you?), and let yourself enjoy the show!

If you're a storyteller, watch a movie, or read a book, just to enjoy being entertained by a good story. Don't analyze what you're reading, or watching, while you're doing so, save that for later. For now, let yourself be entertained.

Yes, you may look back on the experience later and gain some insight into how that particular artist (of whatever persuasion) made you feel their art, the product of their creation. But in order to examine how the artist made you feel you first have to allow yourself to really feel their creation. You have to fill the well before you can analyze its contents.

Filling the well is a vital activity for a creative person. We need that outside stimulus to continue creating our own worlds, our own visions. Without it we can become stale, stuck in the rut of our own minds.

We may not realize how much that day job brought those outside influences into our lives. A casual conversation in the lunch room or on a coffee break might remind us of a movie or television show we should try. A drink after work could spark questions about an obscure piece of history, or casual gossip could get us thinking about "What if?"

Personally I have to admit that writing murder mysteries has allowed me to safely (and even profitably) vent some frustrations that came from my nine-to-five life, though I am quite happy to no longer have that particular inspiration.

But in retirement we may not have those casual interactions. The days of comparing your current binge-watch with your office mates are over. But that doesn't mean we can't continue enjoying the things we love.

Certainly learn from other creatives, but you need to also give yourself permission to savor their output. Let their passion and hard work bring joy and renewed creativity into your life.

Finding Gratitude

Holidays are strange this year, and I am working hard at trying to find things to be thankful for. Last week a friend started a daily gratitude post, finding something small to be thankful for every day. I posted several things over the week, but this week has been tough, and right now I am having to work hard to find some gratitude.

Our aging beach cottage with the new building looming over it from the back yard. And yes, that is Herbie in front of the house.

Our house is older than I am, and it's showing its age. We have known all along that we had "vintage" plumbing and occasionally it would remind us. This is an old beach cottage from the WWII era, with a single bathroom. We have become regular customers of the local drain cleaning service to keep everything running properly. A couple weeks ago the tub/shower started draining slowly. With COVID we were hesitant to have anyone in to work on it, if we could avoid it. We took quick showers and tried not to over-tax the plumbing. Then the sink started draining slowly, but the tub suddenly drained normally again. So, kind of good news?

Then came this week.

Yesterday I got news that the candidate we liked had accepted our offer and I would have a replacement to train. Woohoo! I get to go back to my retirement - except he can't start until January, and will need several weeks of training, so it will still be a couple months before I can re-retire.

Some months certainly feel longer than others...

I came home from work and headed to my office to write a column for today. Because this month, in addition to its other issues, has five Sundays which means adding an extra post to the schedule.

I pushed the power button on the computer. Nothing. Tried it several times. Still nothing. It eventually started, but it was far too quiet. Still, I could open files, and load programs. Took a couple minutes to realize there was no fan noise. I immediately shut it down and suddenly "computer replacement" moved to the top of the list. Yes, I might be able to repair it, but it's at least a decade old (prehistoric for a computer) and whatever we fix this time, something else will likely break soon.

Ate dinner, watched a little TV, did some online window shopping for a new computer, and realized it was getting late. Time for a quick shower and bed.

But the universe wasn't through with me. Nope. It comes in threes, right?

Stepped in the shower and realized the water wasn't draining. At all. Of course this happened on a Friday night, because nothing in the house ever messes up on a Tuesday morning when there's a repair person easily available. Nope! Friday night.

Showers are wonderful things. Most of the time.

So here I am, trying to find things to be grateful for.

There's a YouTube personality I follow, Justin Scarred. I will write a recommendation for his videos and podcasts at some point, but I want to shout out to him for the basis of the things he posts. A few years back when he was in a really lousy situation he adopted what he calls his Quest for Positivity, and his posts often reference his struggle to maintain a positive attitude.

Certainly positivity and mindfulness won't cure depression or fix brain chemistry, but his choice to share his struggle and to encourage others is refreshing and reassuring.

Today I am listening to one of his recent podcasts, and it's helping. So I will course-correct my response to my current situation.

Yes, I am still working, but I know there is a time limit of just a couple months. Ten weeks or so. It's not a lifetime, it's just a pause.

Yes, I need to replace my computer, but at least it didn't crash and refuse to restart, or destroy the hard disk. I can recover the information that's there, and I have the important stuff backed up. Besides that, I don't need a super-duper, top-of-the-line machine - and I can afford to buy what I need.

Yes, we have to have someone come in and deal with the plumbing, but we know reliable, affordable services here in town who will likely be available without too much delay. Even if there is a delay I work in a top-tier hotel and if the plumber can't get here quickly we can always stay at the hotel a day or two.

Yes, a bunch of stupid stuff went wrong this week, but a lot went right, too.

I have managed to make up a lot of work in the office, and there is definite progress being made. In addition, my staff (that feels so strange after 20+ years of being staff) are amazing and they are learning and doing more and more with each passing week.

My family are all healthy, and with the encouraging news coming out on the vaccine front we are able to redouble our efforts to stay safe, knowing things will change for the better.

I found health insurance for my husband, still a little too young for Medicare, that will provide adequate care and won't to break the bank.

Even with the computer problems I was able to use one of our other machines and produce that fifth-Sunday column I needed, and get it posted on time.

We had a lovely Thanksgiving dinner with friends who are in our "bubble," and while we couldn't have the kids with us, they each had people within their "bubbles" with whom they could share the day.

We roasted our own turkey here at home, and we have lots of leftovers for the freezer.

Really - that's a lot to be grateful for!

Recommended Viewing: Vanity Fair

Recommended Viewing

Vanity Fair

Career Timeline Series

YouTube

This Vanity Fair-produced series presents short interviews with professionals in the creative arts. Each creator is given a timeline of their career and asked to comment of the path they have taken.

Everyone has a path. Most are not nearly this straightforward.

While the series is heavily weighted toward movie and television actors, there are also interviews with directors, composers, voice actors, comedians, and musicians. And many of the performers cross over into producing, directing, writing, and other creative roles.

Each of these subjects has taken a unique path, made their own choices-both good and bad-and worked with a variety of other creatives. Along the way they have learned about their own preferences, the things they love and the things they never want to repeat.

One of the most interesting parts in each timeline is the missteps each one has taken: turning down a job that won someone else an award, or taking a job that turned out to be a poor fit. For the most part these are touched on only very lightly - this is meant to be entertainment, after all - or glossed over with a dismissive laugh. But occasionally it is clear that beneath the casual attitude there is a real sense of loss or regret, an opportunity missed or a career misstep that was difficult to overcome, a hard lesson learned.

Another point that emerges now and again is the realization, often long after the fact, that a particular role was absolutely perfect for someone else, a chance to showcase their talents and abilities, and would have been a terrible choice for the interviewee. That lesson alone is worth your time.

Knowing when to say no is a lesson we all need. And we all need reminders of why it’s a good idea.

Each segment is only 10-30 minutes long, just enough to stream on your phone while you're waiting for an appointment, or taking a break. If a particular segment or creator doesn't resonate with you, it isn't a big investment in time and attention.

The subjects are mostly household names, and the depth of each episode depends on the willingness of the creator to share their feelings about their careers. Not all segments are equally introspective; some creators clearly prefer to keep their commentary light, or even superficial. Some of them cover only a portion of their career. But each one has a little something to say about the pursuit of a career as a creative.

Currently there are 47 segments on the Vanity Fair You Tube channel. Not all are career timelines, there are a few episodes about a particular entertainer's fashion choices, and at least one about the performer's injuries (!) throughout their career. (To be clear, that one is Johnny Knoxville, whose entire career seems to center around dangerous and often juvenile stunts. Most of his work seems to be in need of the "Don't try this at home" disclaimer.)

These are short takes on creative careers, and they each have something to offer. Start with someone whose work you admire, or pick and choose from among creators you aren't as familiar with. There is something to recommend each of these episodes.

Vanity Fair/Career Timeline

You Tube: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLZ2lDrDpOLrs9-GnqElQsdaZgOhSSi0sC

What Can I Do For You?

A couple weeks ago a friend of mine-let's call them Mary-came to me with a question. Mary knew I was recently retired and working on my writing career. She also knew that my husband was a long-term creative and that we had spent decades trying to balance the demands of my day job with our creative careers and the business side of our creative lives while still maintaining our personal relationship.

It's a struggle we all face: How do we balance the creative, the personal, and the professional?

A full-time creative, Mary was trying to figure out how to interact with a partner (let's call him Charlie) who was considering retirement - and who had offered to become her business manager.

Wow! Is that a situation ripe with possibilities. And I don't mean good ones. I mean disasters of epic proportions. The kind that shake the pillars of the earth; or at least your earth.

Yes, that’s my husband. He helps with a lot of things (including taking photos like this selfie) but there’s a reason he has a warning sign!

I asked, as gently as I possibly could, why did Charlie make this offer? Did he have management experience? Or publishing background? Did he know anything about running a business, or about this specific endeavor?

The answer (I bet you can guess) was no. Oh, Charlie was smart, and had held a responsible, upper-level job in his own field for many years. Charlie assured Mary he could pick this up in no time. Mary, for her part, had faith in Charlie, but she hesitated. Publishing, her chosen creative outlet, was a complicated and capricious business. It was changing rapidly, and there were a lot of hidden pitfalls, even for seasoned professionals.

But even if Charlie didn't flounder in the unfamiliar waters, she asked, what other issues might arise? What things, good or bad, hadn't she thought of? What might the change mean for their relationship?

No one issues building permits for relationships. You’re on your own, so be sure you’re building things the way you want them!

And those were just the first questions Mary thought of!

We discussed the issue for some time, and I pointed out several things that needed to be answered before Mary could tell if Charlie's idea was a good one or not. They are the questions we all have to ask ourselves as we navigate the unfamiliar waters of retirement and creativity.

Creativity takes many forms, as I have said before. In addition, each creative has different goals for their particular form.

Let's use writers as an example since it's one I'm familiar.

Each one chooses writing for a personal reason. Some write for a living, some for fame and glory, some to further another career, or as an adjunct to their primary career. For some it's "just for fun," including those that lock their manuscripts away and never show them to another living soul.

Each writer has a different goal, a different reason they choose writing as their creative outlet, and how they approach their writing will depend on what their goal is.

You need to know the answer to those two questions before you can begin to decide whether you want to involve your partner in your creative pursuit. You may be a hide-your-story-in-a-drawer writer, and not only don't you want help with your business, you don't even want a business. If that's you then you don't need to consider any further.

You can hide your creations away if you wish.

Do you want an income but want full control of your business? You better prepare yourself to gracefully decline the offer, or practice biting your tongue. A lot.

Do you want to enhance another outlet, like writing articles to share your passion for needlework, or photography? That's another model, and maybe control of the writing isn't important, but control of the photography is.

And if you do want help with the business management, but your partner/sibling/child just isn't qualified to do what you need done? Then you have to decide what you're willing to teach them and what you're willing to overlook in order to accept their offer of help.

Two last things to consider:

First, are you willing to have someone else involved with your creative endeavor? Because if you accept the offer of assistance you are inviting that person into your creative world, and giving them a voice in how you conduct your business and your creative life. How will you handle it when your "helpful" partner tells you gritty noir mysteries are the current best-selling genre, and you should switch over from the sweet romance stories or the sweeping fantasy epics that you love? Even if that is good business advice (and I don't believe for a minute that it is), are you willing to have that discussion, to have someone else telling you how to direct your creativity?

“No, dear. I do not want you to read my manuscripts.”

Second, please keep in mind - whatever choice you make - that the offer is made out of love, out of a desire to help, and as a way of spending time with you working on the thing you love. It springs from a desire to be a part of your life, to try to share the thing you love with you and be a part of something that is so important to you. 

I am not inside your relationship. I don't know what the dymanic is between you and your partner. But recognize that accepting an offer of help, however well-intentioned, is ceding some level of control to another person, and ask yourself if you are really willing to do that. "No" is always an option.

To go back to what I said at the beginning, there are a lot of ways this can go pear-shaped, and not many that go right. Make your decision with your eyes open; plan for the worst, even if you hope for the best. My advice is to say no as gracefully as possible. 

Your life, and that of your partner, is changing as you transition from your "day job" to retirement. They are trying to navigate that change along with you and find the new paradigm that will give you both happiness and satisfaction for the rest of your lives.

Treat them and yourself gently. Change is hard, and scary, but you're in this together.

Dinner and Democracy

I wrote this post for my Patreon subscribers a couple weeks ago. It seems somehow fitting that it appears here on the day after the election seems to be settled. Who I voted for doesn’t really matter; what matters is that I showed up and my voice was heard.

It's no secret here that I am a child of the 50s and 60s. I grew up knowing that I would have to wait until I was 21 to vote. That changed, of course, with the passage of the 26th Amendment in 1970, though by then I was old enough to vote and it didn't affect me directly.

Point is, I have been voting for more than 50 years.

It has always felt like both a civic duty and a privilege; an acknowledgement that I was an adult and could have a say in the way my city, my state, and my country are run, as well as an obligation to participate in selecting the men and women who would carry out my wishes.

In the state of Oregon vote-by-mail began as an experiment in the 1980s. We became the first all vote-by-mail state in 2000. While I believe in the process and appreciate the convenience and accessibility it provides, it loses much of the sense of ritual, of community participation, that we had when we stood in line at our local school, or park, or city hall, to cast our ballots.

So this year, in the midst of the pandemic that made those long-gone lines a scary proposition in other states, my husband and I created our own little ritual.

In years past we have discussed the issues and candidates, filled out our ballots, sealed them in their envelopes and then one of both of us would carry them down our hill to city hall - a distance of a whole three blocks! - and drop them in the ballot box. Usually as part of a trip to the grocery store, or picking up the mail at the post office, or on our way to work, or some other errand. It was just part of our daily activity.

This election, when we have spent so much time confined to the house, we used it as an excuse for an outing. We created our own little ritual, and tried to make it special again.

For one thing, we drove down the coast to the county courthouse to deposit our ballots. It's about 26 miles from our house near our city hall to the county seat, along the spectacular Oregon coast. We stopped and took pictures along the way, allowing ourselves the time to appreciate the beauty and splendor of the coastline. A simple errand had already become an outing.

Properly masked and distanced, I grabbed a couple pictures of the coast. Because who can resist a view like the one below?

The sun came out and gave us spectacular views as we wound along the narrow coastal highway, past pounding surf, dramatic cliff and rock formations, and a section of the lush coastal forest that had been spared the devastation of the September wildfires.

We went first to the courthouse where we pulled into the drop-off lane behind one other car and waited our turn to drop our sealed envelopes into the official ballot box. It is also safe and legal to put out ballots in the mail, but the convenience and reassurance of dropping them directly in the drive-up ballot box gave it an added moment of ritual. Of course we took pictures of putting our ballots in the box-that seems almost de rigueur in the current election cycle.

Convenient drive-up ballot boxes mean we don’t even have to get out of the car. Hubby drops ballots in the box while I commemorate the moment.

We left the courthouse knowing we had fulfilled our obligation, exercised our right to choose, and asserted the privilege of participating in the governing of our community and our country. We didn't get stickers like those who voted "in person," but we still had a feeling of accomplishment.

With our main errand complete, we decided on a little fun to celebrate being out of the house. We each have things we do away from home, but those are few and far between, and usually it's just one or the other of us, so any time we get out together is a special occasion.

Newport, where the courthouse is located, is a fishing town. The harbor is filled with commercial and sport fishing boats, as well as the vessels from the Hatfield Marine Science Center. It is a working harbor, but it also has its share of tourist attractions, shops, bars, and restaurants. (Perhaps we will do a tour of the waterfront one of these days. There's a lot to see!)

One of our favorites is a small fish place on the south end. It's not elegant, but the prices are good and the food is spectacular. They have some of the best fish and chips I have ever had, and (except in the height of the tourist-traffic season) it's worth the drive just for their fish and chips.

A great little joint with fabulous fish and chips. But what’s that thing on the roof?

Yep! The “blades” of that windmill are giant spoons! But wait, there’s another windmill (or weather vane, not sure what to call these things) on the other end of the building. And what is it made of?

Yes! Giant stainless steel bowls, with a few spoons on top for good measure!

We parked in front and considered our options, settling on rockfish and popcorn shrimp so we could share. Both meals came with slaw, and thick-sliced fried potatoes. The slaw is particularly good, good enough that my I-will-never-eat-cole-slaw husband ate all of his. It's a typical shredded cabbage mix, but the dressing is a tart/sweet mix without the creamy look of traditional cole slaw dressing. Whatever it is, it's very tasty!

Coleslaw and popcorn shrimp. Lots of popcorn shrimp!

Fish and chips. You can see tartar sauce and the non-creamy coleslaw-what’s left of it-and between them a potato slice. Yes, that’s cilantro in the slaw, and it is yummy!

My husband went in and placed an order, then came back and waited in the car. In just a few minutes bags of hot, fresh food were delivered directly to our car.

We drove back up the hill from the waterfront a couple blocks, and found a parking space almost under the beautiful bridge that crosses the mouth of the bay.

This bridge~ How could you not love this? And the husband who worked so hard to get a picture with the perfect light?

The sun was setting behind us, the light reflecting off the windows of houses on the far side of the bay onto the water. With the windows open we got a soft breeze and we could hear the barks of the sea lions echoing across the bay.

This was our view. It was a little hazy, but I love the way the setting sun (behind us) is reflecting off the windows of the buildings across the harbor. On the right you can see just the edge of a research vessel from the Hatfield Marine Science Center.

After we finished our food we took a detour out to a small mill town a few miles east before heading back to the highway. It was nearly dark as we headed home with our stomachs full of dinner and our hearts full of democracy.

I call that a good day!

Who Loves Ya', Baby?

One of the things that happens when you retire is that you and your partner are together a lot more hours of the day. For me this is going to be a massive issue.

My husband and I have been married for more than 35 years. For our entire marriage he has been a self-employed writer. He works from home, and has had the house to himself (once the kids he inherited as teenagers left home) all day, every day.

He is a serious introvert, and he truly appreciated not having anyone – even the family he loves – in his space; not just in his office, a room I have not been inside in years, but in the entire building.

Now I am going to be home every day, in his house, breathing his air. It’s going to take some getting used to.

We already have some pieces in place. He has his own office in a converted garage with outside doors and no direct connection to the house. You have to go outside and unlock the office to gain access to his lair.

Yes, this is his actual door. Note that I have not yet vanished.

I also have my own office. It’s a smaller space in a shop building we added a few years ago when our previous shop space succumbed to a winter wind storm. (Yes, Oregon has severe winds on the coast. They’d be hurricanes if they’d just get organized, but fortunately they do not.)

When we were developing the plans we carved out a corner for an office with additional attention paid to plans to use it as a recording studio, in case we decided to try our hands at audio production. The office has a door, and a sign over it. The sign was a gift from my husband when I wrote two novels based on the ALIAS television series, and mimics the sign on the disguised door to the heroes’ secret headquarters.

Not to be outdone, I also have a "Beware of the Parrot" plaque, a nod to Bluebeard, the foul-mouthed parrot in my Haunted Gift Shop Mystery series.

Both offices are basically invitation-only, and we aren’t inclined to invite people in very often, though that is primarily a function of who we are as creatives. Your mileage may vary.

I realize not everyone has the luxury of that much space, but whether you have a dedicated space (a topic for another time) or not, you still need to talk about how you want to spend your time. The important thing is to preserve whatever distance you need to create, and the retirement of either you or your non-creative partner is going to affect that distance.

When your partner  retires, they might want you to spend more time with them. Really, isn’t that why they are your partner in the first place? The same applies when you retire. You want to spend more time with them. In fact, this is probably something you see as a benefit of retirement.

But who decides how much time? What kind of time? What to do with that time?

And there is the issue. When you are in a committed relationship, who controls your time?

This likely isn't a new question. You have always struggled with the need for time to create. But while you may have reached some kind of accommodation while one or both of you had outside jobs, expectations may change when you leave that outside job.

So what do you do?

You do what (I hope) you have always done. You communicate. Be honest with your partner about what your hopes for retirement are. How much time you want, or need, to be happy and creative. How much space you need to be by yourself and allow your creativity to blossom.

For some of you this is going to be a tough discussion. You've come to this stage with a series of compromises that left neither of you particularly happy.

It's good to have a goal!

Maybe you've had to steal time from early mornings, or weekends, or late nights to create, and you or your partner hopes that will change, but you have never said so clearly and directly.

Maybe one or the other of you has harbored hopes that your creative endeavors were just stress relief and you wouldn't need that time once the outside job went away.

Maybe you never had the hard conversation about what your creative time means to you, how important it is to how you want to live your life.

Let me offer an example of what that conversation might look like.

I came to writing later in life. I did not admit my creative nature, sublimating it in acceptable female pursuits like sewing, needlework, and baking, or take what I wrote at all seriously until I was nearly fifty. On the other hand my husband was always a creative person, primarily expressing that in writing (he's also a decent sketch artist, a scratch-build modeler, a photographer and a videographer, as well as an accomplished mimic who is very good at broadcast voices and dramatic readings).

Early in our life together I was trying to make sense of how we might structure our life together. It was, after all, the first time I had tried to figure out how to live with a creative person.

At one point I asked him, quite seriously, what he wanted to do with his life. (Pro Tip: This might be a good question to ask before you move in together. Whatever, it seems to have worked out.)

He answered without hesitation, "I want to tell stories."

He didn't modify or limit his response by specifying how he wanted to tell those stories; he just wanted to be a story-teller in whatever fashion he could.

That answer has been the bedrock of our life. How do we make room for him - and now for me - to tell our stories.

It takes time and space to do that, and it's taken a long time for us to find the balance that makes it possible, but we do it because it is important. It has taken some serious and sometimes painful conversations and negotiations, occasionally involving, ahem, enhanced volume.

It has also taken the most difficult piece, complete honesty. Tell your partner what you really want, what you need, and ask them to do the same.

Find the balance between those two that works for your relationship. That point may change over time, I know ours has, so keep checking back with your partner.

Compromise and balance in the face of changes. Really, that's at the heart of any long-term relationship.

I hope you find yours.

Recommended Watching: Steady Craftin You Tube Channel

Recommended Watching

Steady Craftin YouTube Channel

by Your Host, the CrafsMan

With a soft voice and a hidden identity, the CrafsMan (he says it's the way his grandma said crafts) has become a You Tube sensation. He never shows his face, and his hands are always covered with black nitrile gloves so no one knows what he looks like, adding to the mystique.

The CrafsMan is portrayed by a somewhat crudely-made hand puppet, though even the puppet is not seen a lot on camera. Instead we mostly see the gloved hands, a rustic workshop, an eclectic collection of toys, tools, and supplies, and the creation of a wide variety of art and crafts.

He is truly a polymath, a man of many talents and enthusiasms, and he seems genuinely dedicated to encouraging creativity and experimentation in his viewers. In his shop found objects become works of art, repurposing is encouraged, and DIY solutions abound. If a process or product is expensive and there is a cheaper alternative, the CrafsMan probably knows about it and will share it with his audience.

His gentle presentation has been likened to the late Bob Ross (he of "happy little trees" fame) and it's an apt comparison. His folksy wisdom and non-judgmental attitude are a soothing antidote to the craziness that abounds in the world around us.

I am told there are people who watch his videos just to listen to his voice.

Some of the first Steady Craftin videos I saw were of found-object art, with his explanation of how he just gathers interesting pieces wherever he finds them and stores them until an object or group of objects strikes his fancy. The results are quirky and delightful.

He is also quite adept at various casting methods and materials. One recent video covered how to make your own rubber stamps, and in previous installments he's done both silicon and resin casting, with explanations of the wide range of materials available and the differences between them.

The CrafsMan's projects cover a wide range - Want to build a pinhole camera, learn the basics of stop-motion animation, or make a ring from a spoon? There's a video for that - and while it may not directly address your particular creative choice, his presentation, his inclusive approach, and his encouraging nature are well worth a watch. In addition, he has done several behind-the-scenes videos that cover the setup of his workshop, his interactions with his fans, and his production techniques. He freely shares tips on the equipment he uses to produce his segments as well as other advice from his years of experience as an all-around craft enthusiast.

Is The CrafsMan a professional? Who knows? His actual identity is a closely-guarded secret. Based on what little information he has shared I believe he lives somewhere in the Mississippi Delta, but beyond that, and a few references to his son and wife, he remains a mystery.

Whoever he is, he's worth a watch!

The CrafsMan/Steady Craftin

YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/c/TheCrafsMan/featured

Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/steadycraftin

Etsy: https://www.etsy.com/shop/steadycraftin