An Experiment in Productivity

I am lucky because my schedule is often open-ended, and I can format my work hours as my day demands. It sure beats working a classic 8-to-5 office job. However, there are some pitfalls to having such a free schedule. Competing priorities can be tough to sift through, especially if deadlines are far-off. It's easy to get lazy since there aren't always strictly designated working hours. The lack of structure has also meant that I skimp on healthy eating habits and fitness.

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Two weeks ago, I decided I really needed to examine my work week plan. I was aided by an infographic I saw from Fast Company Magazine which showed the daily creative routines of historically famous writers, musicians and artists. It was nice to see that being creative (and successful) didn't mean haplessly working at all hours of the day, losing sleep, skipping meals & showers. But rather there was sense to finding a rhythm even to one's creative process. I was also intrigued by how individualized each famous person's creative routine was. Basically, they found the groove that worked for them. Instead of asking "How can I get the most working hours in?" I should have been asking "When do I do my best work?"

This has led to a new schedule which I'm just trying out, with full knowledge that it can (and probably will) change in the future. What's nice about this schedule, though, is that it is an honest reflection of my strengths and limitations. I am often most productive in the mornings before lunch, so those hours have been specifically set aside for my creative work (writing, composing, researching, etc). I like to exercise during the middle of the day (rather than morning or evening), so right before lunch, I have gym-time. This means that I can delay my showering until after gym instead of showering first thing in the morning (which used to cut into my most productive hours). Afternoon is when my creative juices tend to stop flowing, and I can really only manage to do specific, pre-determined tasks. So, that's when I will get the business-side of my writing work done (applying for grants, working on demos, e-mails, etc). Evenings are reserved for play and rest.

Now, none of this is rigid. If I'm faced with a looming deadline, I will probably allow myself to become that stereotypical, locked-in-his-room-until-the-work-is-done creative type. But that needn't be the norm, especially if it means going against the rhythms that seem to work best for me.

I'll check in with myself again in two months or so to see how it's all going. Here's hoping!

Creativity Quotation #3

"For all the care you put into artistry, visual polish frequently doesn't matter if you're getting the story right." - Edwin Catmull

Min's Musings: On Awe and Perspective

Every quarter, I like to visit Grace Cathedral for a little self-check-in time. I call it my quarterly "pilgrimage," when, for a few hours, I get away from work, stay off the internet, and allow for reflection. On my pilgrimage earlier this week, I began to consider why I enjoyed performing this ritual so much. What was it that I gained that made the trek so worthwhile? Craning my neck up towards the high ceilings of the church, I recognized within myself a sensation that can only be described as awe. Awe is what brings me back to Grace, what entices me back to these more silent moments of thought. Truth is, I long for awe in my life.

Some might say that inner peace or clarity of mind is what is sought after in self-reflection. For me, these are actually the results of starting from a place of awe. Awe involves an encounter with something that is beyond myself. There is an element of befuddlement and wonder - a recognition that something is so big, vast, profound, complex or beyond knowing that I am left gaping or sighing without much to say. At face value, it might seem that the natural response to this is fear. If something is so unfathomable, it would make sense that people would steer clear of it. I think much of consumer culture is a series of attempts at turning away from that which would hold us in awe.

Many religious folk might say that when we are in awe, we are re-connecting with the divine love of God. Moments of awe are really moments of beholding God. And the fact that God Almighty, who is perhaps the most fearful being in the universe, would deign to let us ponder God Almighty is seen as a definition of grace. An awesome thought, indeed. And not necessarily one I disagree with.

But something that has bothered me about that line of thought is how packaged the whole thing comes out. Clearly defining the experience of awe with such unabashed certitude seems to... well, de-awe the whole thing. The emotional responses of love, hope and even fear seem to be what comes after awe. But what I wanted to know, sitting in the Cathedral as groups of tourists snapped photo after photo of the building's grandeur, was why was I drawn to awe itself? I recognize my need for love and hope, but those aren't the reasons why I go to Grace. I enjoy being in awe - but why?

Grace's latest environmental art installment. Isn't it awe-some?

The best answer I could find for myself that day was perspective. Awe is a moment of perspective revision. When I gaze upon the Cathedral, when I take in a view of the Grand Canyon, when I ponder God and existence, the common thread is that my perspective is shattered. Something that doesn't seem possible is, or something that once seemed so simple is inconceivable. In any case, awe occurs when my grasp on reality is disturbed. In the cases of nature or art, that disturbance is often delightfully surprising. But awe isn't always so kind. Awe can yield paralyzing fear and horror. But my point is that any awesome encounter, regardless of the emotional result, brings a new or wider perspective (even if it means a disorienting one). And as someone who loves the idea of continual growth and evolution through life, this perspective shift is what draws me to awe again and again.

Now let's get real. Am I always in this happy, fuzzy state where awe is always welcome? Of course not. I love mental distractions and simple thinking as much as any other person who watches Sailor Moon fanatically... Nor am I saying we should always be in awe, because quite frankly I don't think anything would get done in the world if we were in a constant state of getting our mind blown ("Double rainbow...What does it mean...?"). But every now and again, I think creating space for that awe to well up in me does me a great amount of good, keeping my perspective in check and reminding me of my size in the scheme of things. It's kinda awesome.

Creativity Quotation #2

“I will pass on the best advice that I have been given: Stay true to your instincts as a writer, because they are what make you unique. At every turn there will be ‘experts’ who offer their opinions and you will want to follow their advice, but in the end you have to be the final judge on what is right for you and your work.” - Neil Bartram

History & Heritage: My Day with Fred L. Schodt

Earlier this month, Fred Schodt (translator of The Four Immigrants Manga) guided me on a tour of Henry Kiyama's San Francisco. One of the most intriguing qualities of Henry Kiyama's The Four Immigrants Manga is how faithful he was in his portrayal of San Francisco (and beyond) as the backdrop for the comics. So Fred took me to see sights both familiar and new. The Call Building (now Central Tower), Cliff House & Seal Rock, the Golden Gate Park Bandshell are all portrayed in the book, and it was fun to consider what these locations meant to the city in Kiyama's day. We also stopped by locations that, while not depicted in the work, are important to the book's existence - places like Kiyama's publishing studio and the old location of the SF Art Institute where he studied. Fred was full of insight and stories all along the way, much more than I can recount here. He will be giving a talk about the book later this year, and I highly recommend you attend if you want to learn more about it!

Perhaps the most poignant part of the day, though, was when we stopped by Fred's office and he showed me his original 1931 printing of The Four Immigrants Manga. I had been meaning to schedule a meeting with the Rare Books Librarian at UC Berkeley's East Asian Library in order to see their copy, but suddenly I didn't need to!  It was fascinating to flip through the eighty-year-old book and see the original handwritten Japanese characters. I began to imagine how Kiyama must have felt when the book went to press and he held his first copy. That, in turn, made me think what Fred might have felt when he held the finished translation for the first time. That, in turn, made me think what it might feel like when my musical adaptation finally gets produced.

This made me aware of a sort of writer's heritage that comes with adapting Four Immigrants for the stage. In some ways, this is the heritage that most deeply connects me to the project (moreso than the Asian-American connection, though that is by no means insignificant). The desire to capture a moment in a creative way and to share that with the world is something Kiyama, Fred and I all share. That is something I want to honor as I continue working on The Four Immigrants Manga musical project. I am thankful to Fred for taking the time that day to show me around Kiyama's San Francisco, and I am thankful to Henry Kiyama for his novel decision to create this incomparable, autobiographical comic book.

An original copy of The Four Immigrants Manga - beside a photo of Henry Kiyama and under a photo of Astro Boy. (Frederik L. Schodt is the translator of the English-version of the Astro Boy manga series.)