A Shift of Focus

I delivered my deliverable. We opened lines of communication, discussed resourcing, and deep dived into risk assessment.

“I expect,” I concluded, pleased with how the meeting had gone, “that these conversations will evolve to be more effective as we settle into a routine. So please let me know if you’d like to present something or have other suggestions on format or content. And thanks again for your time this morning – I enjoyed talking with all of you.”

Lewis reached toward the center of the table and disconnected the call. I nodded my thanks as I finished writing something down and took a breath before looking up to meet his eyes.

“Well?” I asked, “How am I supposed to evolve these to be more effective as we settle into a routine?” He shrugged, said he thought it went well and offered that the longer I did much of anything at Industry, the better at it I’d be. I nodded in agreement and began to set up more meetings to open lines of communication, discuss resourcing and deep dive into risk assessment. So I typed notes and sent reviews and found times for people to talk while I listened and managed conversations.

It’s hard, which you know because I’ve said that. I love it, which you also know because I’ve mentioned the life out of that too. And there are interesting and infuriating things that happen at work. But I’ve grown used to the fact that we don’t write stuff down. If you have sensitive information, you speak it. So I spend much of my life in calls and meetings, therefore blogging about confidential topics is hardly a good idea.

Is it annoying when a vendor goes over my head after I express my disinterest?
Am I likely to ignore you if you insist on calling me five times a day after I’ve told you I can’t help?
Do I worry when we receive multiple notices of uncertain economic times and iffy financial commitments?
Can I feel somehow ineffective and not so productive after working from dawn until way past bedtime?
Will I grin and tease with colleagues even when we’re under intense pressure, enjoying them completely?

Of course.

Can I go into wordy detail on any of those topics to give you a peek into my daily life?

Not really. And given that work is all there is on many days, that makes writing hard.

Perhaps, I thought the other day as I was tossing fitfully between my silky brown comforter and fluffy blue sheets, I should take a break. My recent frustration with the ‘I’m so smart and special so you should do what I say!’ faction of the online community has left me wondering what I’m trying to accomplish here. I do like the attention, checking site stats at least daily and knowing exactly how many subscribers I have on Google Reader and Bloglines (87 and 65! Only a few of which are me!). I find it somehow comforting to know that my post-doctoral years are lovingly/painfully documented should I ever want to remember something.

The first thing I thought when I opened an email from Very Good Journal today? I should tell my blogfriends! My revisions were accepted without re-review and I’m going to get a paper in a journal I’ve always admired! I sent notice to my co-authors, gracefully accepted the congratulations that filled my inbox, and continued with the work I was doing.

In an attempt to distract myself from crushing stress, I glanced through the recommendations from Google Reader. I ended up somewhere new and lost 30 minutes or so clicking back through entries, and I remembered what I love about good blogs. I am fascinated by details - what people think about when walking their dogs, what features of their spouse they find most appealing, if a neighbor said something funny or a colleague acted in an adorable manner.

The problem with being busy is that I often don’t notice that stuff. And it’s there, glimmering with some promise of humor or insight. I used to watch for those moments to be sure I could write about them. I’ll see if I can train myself to do it again.

When I was puzzling out why I was so angry that someone might belittle or attack a writer I liked, I realized I love some of you. When I struggled through my post-doc, when Mom was sick or when I was too depressed to go to work, I had people who made me feel somehow worthwhile by showing up to read, offering gentle comments or writing encouraging emails. That strength and support if a valuable piece of community and one I wouldn't trade and have no desire to lose. I think the way to do that is to write for the pleasure of writing.

So we'll see how that goes.