I've been meaning to write you for almost a year now -- ever since Flourish entered my writing life. Every time I see the word "Flourish" pop up in my mailbox, I feel that same flutter of excitement I did when email was brand new to me, and it would chime "you've got mail." Getting your words of wisdom always gives me a new boost of energy. Your latest musings on resolutions caught my attention since I reread my resolutions from last year, and I did not accomplish a single one, including "Finish book by March 31"! As a friend of mine said, at least I would not have to dream up a new set, I could simply recycle the old list!

But, as you stated, those vague resolutions are meaningless, so I've come up with a new incentive system I thought I'd share with others. I call it my "sexy dress fund." Now that I am writing all the time, I'm feeling very unsexy because all I wear is sweats. So the idea of ever wearing a dress again, let alone a sexy one, feels like a nice thing. Every day before I officially begin my writing, I break my work for the day into a series of smaller tasks. They are generally tasks I think I can accomplish within 30 to 60 minutes, or 90 at the most. For example, read a section of my chapter draft and make editorial notes. Or, if I have the notes done, then, rewrite a section. I then estimate the amount of time it should take and set a kitchen timer (I occasionally cheat and add in an extra one or two minutes as a cushion). If I finish within the allotted time, I give myself a dollar. I have a beautiful wood antique box and I physically put the dollar in each time I meet my deadline. I still belt out a cheer every time I make it. While the money I have now will only buy me a Barbie doll size dress, I anticipate that the fund will grow over time (even though I did not earn a single dollar today!)

One of the big benefits of this system is that it forces me to gain a more accurate understanding of how much time I need for certain tasks. It has convinced me that I have been working as fast as I possibly can, which is VERY SLOW. But this system has convinced me that this slowness is an integral part of how my mind works -- and so I'm more willing to accept that now. I would previously beat myself up for being slow. And of course, the anxiety about my slowness has made me even slower. I think that by accepting my slowness, I will actually become quicker!

Someone has written that there are three stages in the reception of a new, or at any rate unfamiliar, idea. The first reaction is "Ridiculous! Preposterous! Everyone knows that the opposite is the truth---it's been universally acknowledged for decades, if not centuries. This is only brash young X shooting off his mouth. He's a wild man, just trying to shock, looking for publicity. No attention need be paid to his bizarre notion, which he probably doesn't really believe himself." ... Every effort is made to see that the disturbing new proposition is shelved and ignored.

The second stage, a fair number of years later, goes something like this: "It's true that X has dug up a certain amount of evidence and advanced some interesting arguments to support his view. Nevertheless, these can and should be answered, and the weight of informed opinion will in the end certainly come down on the side of the traditional view."

Eventually, however, the final stage may run along these lines: "Well, of course, old X was right. But everyone really knew it all along. It's so obvious that anyone considering the matter must have seen it at first glance, but no except X thought it worth making a fuss about, so he really doesn't deserve much credit for publicizing something so self-evident."