Desk Space

A desk space should have enough room for us to be productive, and also be organized enough so that nothing gets in the way of that. In designing our desk space, we attempt to find the right balance of both so that neither our productivity nor organization are compromised.

In the past, I’ve tried to keep my desk space clear and uncluttered. When I’m working on a project, however, it becomes messy and cluttered in just a matter of minutes. For example, I’ll scribble ideas down on scratch paper, jot things down on post-it notes, have books out on the desk, and draw my ideas as I brainstorm. Not before long, the desk is in disarray. The process of creation is chaotic, untidy–the opposite of tidiness and organization.

Although it’s nice to have a desk that looks clean and uncluttered, it isn’t always conducive to creativity. I find that creativity is kind of like painting on a blank canvas or sculpting with clay. You’re bound to make mistakes and experiment with shapes and colors until it all comes together.

When we’re creative, we go into zone–have tunnel vision: we only focus on the work itself. Thus, creativity doesn’t want to be confined nor restricted. It wants to be set free. But to be organized means we must restrict it, or else everything gets disorganized.

To find the right balance, we must do a combination of both: create and then organize. As long as we have system in place, the chaos can be brought back in to order.

Stages of Editing

Before I begin proofreading, I will analyze the structure of the story. I will analyze the plot, the characters, and how it all fits together. This takes a lot of planning, a lot of outlining, scribbling notes, and careful attention to detail. After the structural analysis, I’ll begin the proofreading process.

I usually go through several stages of editing and number each document in order so that I can compare the newest version with the last. I do at least 4 or 5 edits on a manuscript, sometimes more, depending on how much I change the story in each pass.

But no matter how many times I edit my story, I’ve learned that someone else will catch mistakes (i.e. a reader or an editor)–even if I’ve read it a hundred times. Why? Because my mind knows the story so well that it doesn’t see the mistakes anymore. It knows what was corrected, and thus, it knows not to fix the same thing twice.

Editing is a long and tedious process. It takes a lot of persistence, focus, and energy to finish each pass. But at the end, having a polished and finished product is worth all the effort.

Reading Text Aloud

I used to read the text aloud as a way of proofreading my stories. Now, I will read certain sentences or paragraphs aloud if I notice that the text flows awkwardly or doesn’t sound right.

It’s useful to read aloud to catch errors when a word is missing or if the words are in the wrong order. When you read aloud, you’re sounding out each syllable, each word. You will catch missing letters, or notice that something is present tense when it should be plural (like a missing “s” at the end of a word).

Reading aloud is a useful way to edit, catching mistakes that can be glaring, yet, so easily missed.

Idioms

I like to use idioms both in dialogue and in the prose. When used in dialogue, it can illuminate the characters personality and use of speech. In prose, it can make the text read like the author is speaking to you directly.

Idioms express an idea through an analogy that gives our words a boost–a sense of style. For example, “It’s a piece of cake,” means that something is easy, but would it have been better to use the word “easy” instead? If one were to write “that test was a piece of cake” instead of “that test was easy,” the former sparks the imagination, whereas the latter simply gives us information.

Idioms can be useful to brighten up conversation or give texture to our writing. But using too many idioms can make it sound like we’re talking in code rather than conveying ideas. Just as with adjectives and adverbs, we must be careful of overuse and redundancy, since it can sound jarring and tiresome after awhile. But if used in the right amount, everything works harmoniously together.

Paycheck – Short Story Review

Paycheck, by Philip K. Dick, is a short story about a man, Jennings, who has no memory of the work he did for the last two years at Rethrick Construction. Soon, he finds out that they had wiped his memory of those years, and that he will receive compensation for the work he had done for them.

But when he goes into their office to collect his “paycheck,” they hand him an envelope instead, which contains a receipt, a key, etc. Later, the Security Police pick him up for questioning. They ask him about the work he had done for Rethrick Construction. Of course, he has no answer to give.

Using a couple of the items in the envelope, he escapes their custody and goes into hiding to find out what work he had done for the company. As the story unfolds, he uses the items in the envelope to evade being captured and to find out key information about Rethrick Construction.

The story is packed with fascinating ideas about technology and time through a dystopian backdrop. It’s neat to see how Jenning figures out how to use the items at the right moment to get himself out of trouble or to find out what he needs to know. The more I read, the more I wanted to dive into the story to find out what happened next.

Random Ideas

To write on something random, it means that there are no preconceived notions of what it’ll be about. In order for this to be effective (and productive), a routine of writing had to be in order.

It’s kind of like journal writing. Journal writing is about being spontaneous–letting the ideas flow without hinderance, such as pausing to edit. Whereas journaling draws inspiration from one’s own experience, writing an essay, story, or a reflection piece draws its inspiration from the strength of an idea itself. If the random idea(s) is inspirational, it can take a writer down many pages of written words.

When someone gets in to the habit of writing, the ideas will flow off their fingertips, even if they’re not sure what to write about or what the end result will be. They can write as if they were free-styling or playing a musical instrument. In those cases, the words or the notes flow based on feeling and rhythm. The same can happen with writing. It’s as if the thoughts are building up to a crescendo. Afterward, the words take them where the work needs to go.

Changes of Belief

We go through phases where we question our beliefs. As we change them, we become new persons. Our former selves fade into the past, and our new selves are born.

Why do we go through such phases? To exist means to be in a state of becoming, right? In existentialist philosophy, you are never the same as you were yesterday, since each choice redefines you, gives you new purpose, a new meaning.

And where does this choice come from? From our thoughts. And our thoughts form our beliefs. And our beliefs change the way we see ourselves and the world around us. And the beliefs rest on premises we hold to be true about reality and existence itself.

As we change our beliefs, it is for the purpose of maturity, of personal growth–self improvement. We discard the worn out and outdated modes of thought–principles that fail to explain the world around us, or are unsuccessful in improving our lives.

Each day, we go through a transformation. Our experiences shape what we know, but in our reasoning, we form our beliefs. Each year, we keep some beliefs, discard others, and in the process, we struggle with questions which ones are true and which ones aren’t.

So what are we in the end? Do our beliefs define us, or do they merely help us understand what is happening in the world, as well as determine our choices and guide us to our goals? Perhaps it’s a combination of both. Besides, they are what shape our personality. Aren’t all of us unique?

How many people would say that they hold on to the same beliefs now that they did ten years ago? How about twenty years ago? And if they do, would they claim that their knowledge and understanding of their beliefs hadn’t increased over time? Thus, if knowledge and understanding increases over time, then that means that the meaning of that belief has changed, hasn’t it? Just as it would be true for me to say that the meaning of mathematics has changed with time, since it’s no longer just about passing tests in the classroom, but applicable in my finances and the calculation of interest rates, etc.

Thus, the meaning about something depends on the beliefs we have about it.

Thus, we must ask ourselves what is a belief? It’s a set of ideas about values, or it could be a theory about the way things work (or should work). Are beliefs malleable? Can they be changed in an instant? Perhaps some can and some cannot–just as it’s hard to undo lifelong habits or get rid of assumptions or expectations we’ve grown up with.

Sometimes beliefs change gradually, and sometimes they can change in an instant. It all depends on what we’re going through, what experiences occur. If something extreme and sudden happens that shatters our beliefs, we’re apt to change them immediately. But if the changes are subtle and nuanced, it can take months or years to turn our beliefs around.

For example, we might hold certain beliefs about how to create art, not to mention which discipline(s) of art we want to pursue. But as we go through the motions of creating art in multiple disciplines, we come to discover which ones we enjoy, and which ones we dislike. At the end of a year, we’ll have come to a conclusion of which discipline(s) to keep practicing, and which one(s) to cease practicing.

Also, our skills will be more developed, and our aesthetic style will take shape. Year after year, if we keep up with the discipline(s), everything about our work will have evolved. We’ll have explored and learned more techniques, and our choice in subjects will have varied. And after so many years, it takes on a certain aesthetic that is our own.

Consider the famous painters of the past (Monet, Van Gogh, etc.), and how their art has evolved. Can anyone look at a work of art they made in their twenties and say it’s the same (or equal to in quality) what they created in their later years?

This can apply to anything in life. A career, our habits, our hobbies, the choices we make, etc. Thus, we are never static in our beliefs. Our beliefs are always changing. And if we change, then that means we are always seeking answers.

Dimming Light

When daylight turns to darkness, the change of light becomes gradual–almost imperceptible. Our eyes adjust to the dimming light, and we wait for the darkness to completely sweep over the sky. But not to worry, we have electricity and lights. We go about our day as usual.

And how many times in our lives have we seen the dimming light? What did it mean in the different phases of our lives? In some cases, it meant that we had to hurry to get somewhere. In other cases, it meant that we had to finish up a paper for college, finish up work, or finish the preparations for an event.

It means something different for each age, each geographic region, and for each individual. We have seen the dimming light so many times that we automatically adjust our patterns to adapt to it. We follow routines according to the clock: the time we tune in to a TV show, when we eat dinner, and the hour at which we sleep. Our lives revolve around time so much that it has become a part of how we live. But throughout the ages, people’s lives were not centered on the clock.

The dimming light meant that they had to build a fire or return back to camp. It meant that they had to stop working, give themselves time to rest.

But in our case, we continue to work, or busy ourselves with technology or social events. Perhaps the dimming light is sign for us to be still (see my last post). Perhaps it’s a sign that the night is supposed to be our time of rest–as it’s always been.

Stillness

When we are still, we could hear everything around us that we couldn’t while we were moving. It’s not that the sounds weren’t there, but that we didn’t pick up on them when we were preoccupied.

Being still for even a minute can be a struggle. We are so used to moving and being busy that to purposely do nothing for a minute seems like a strange thing to do. But when we become still, we acutely notice the sky, the breeze, the air, which continue to move around us. We become keenly aware that they exist independently of us, that we exist amidst them.

And when we are still, as if we have a “Spidey sense” of what’s going on. We can hear things clearer. We notice the change of light, the movement of shadows, the humming of machines, the rustling of branches and leaves. It’s as if we see beyond ourselves.

Overloaded

Our minds get overloaded when it’s exposed to too much noise, too much work, too much news, too many activities, etc. Our minds can only handle so much before it shuts down. And when it shuts down, it needs silence–nothing else.

As information and current events become more instantaneously available to us, it’s easy to feel like we can’t keep up. The influx of data fills up our minds more than we can handle. More isn’t necessarily better though. We need a break from the noise and the influx of information that seems so infinitesimal in the long run.

In our daily lives, we get caught up with the busyness of our responsibilities. When we’re doing too many tasks at once, we’re prone to forget things. They can be details such as leaving something on (i.e. the stove) or forgetting to lock the door on the way out to work. Overload causes the circuits in our brain to misfire, to scramble in desperation at the cost of doing things properly.

One of the best solutions is to do just the opposite: to decompress, relax. Sometimes I just close my eyes and be still. Or I remove myself from a noisy or chaotic place so that I can collect myself, calm my mind. After a brief repose, I feel recharged.