Courage in the Little Things

We all want to be action heroes. And when the time and place are right we even plan to try. Some will be this way:

And some will be thus:

I've had moments of my own: 25 years of martial arts until my body gave beneath the weight of accidents and breaks...a half-dozen cross-country moves, including the latest to Seattle at an age when most men are winding down...the discipline and spiritual stuff to keep on keeping on after my publishing luck headed south...

But I've come to a curious crossroads. On August 21 my office will move to Renton, Washington...a daily round-trip commute of three hours, The new environment, an office park, will be sterile in comparison and corporate to the letter. There are no cafes nearby, where I might write before or after work. So I would in effect become a weekend writer, after having grown accustomed to writing a couple of hours daily before work, then another hour after.

Then again, I've grown accustomed to the security of benefits. Plus weekends and holidays off have been nice.

I called the crossroads 'curious' because dilemmas of this sort don't call for this sort of courage:

But there's no lack of courage in finding the guts and wherewithal to get out of the way of disaster.

Getting out of the way in this instance requires shifting my focus from the benefits I'll lose to the stark reality of a three-hour daily commute to an office park.

Wanted: a better position in town without long loss of benefits or writing time.

Required: superior planning, timing and execution of the search. And this can't be an occasional thing. It must be relentless and also all-encompassing--from an updated resume to every aspect of my professional image.

Writing strategy: protect the new book at all costs. Complete first draft by mid to late July.

A relentless, daily siege respecting even the tiniest things. Or as Vincent put it:

I've Got a Crush on My New Mouse: Part 1

Last week, sick to the crash and burn point of frayed or tangled mouse cords, I bought a good-quality optical mouse.





And within a couple of minutes I knew I'd made a sound investment.
--Convenience: the micro receiver remains lodged in my laptop's USB port. Or it can be stored beside the battery in back.
--Sturdiness: nothing flimsy about the mouse. Solidly built--compared to discount plug-ins that broke whenever dropped...or looked at the wrong way.
--Quality: remember the old ad jingle: 'A little dab'll do you'? Well, a single click with this will pull up any link. Writing and editing functions are also much simpler and quicker: highlighting, cut and pasting, scrolling, navigation...No double or triple clicks required, no stubborn refusals to scroll on TweetDeck..
--Speed: by my count, my online working time has been cut in almost half. From 2 hours each morning to 1, with followups later each day.

My mind has been running with this all week long. Where else have I paid too much for saving a couple of dollars? Where else I have stopped way short of exploring superior options?




I worked, for example, for too many years at a low-level job. You all know the kind I mean--the sort that leads to signs like this:




I had no end of excuses. The job gave me time for my writing.,..At my age I couldn't find anything else...I'd done the job so long it had become my 'expertise'...Etc.

But with a shift of perspective and a healthy shot of gall, I set out to whip my excuses. And within 2 weeks, I had a better paying job in a better part of town--and a dreamy schedule that allows me time to write.

This week I'll conduct a thorough inner search, on the hunt for other areas where my vision's fallen short...or where I've settled for less.

And Babycakes, the optical mouse, will get to conduct the review in Part 2.