The Dark Side of a Rewards System

Rewarding yourself for meeting goals is a great concept for a writer. Your muse will be tickled by goodies you shower upon him or her, your inner editor will be smarmy with "I told you we could do this", and your self-image will shoot up as you relax with whatever pasttime you have chosen to gift yourself. However, if you don't meet your goals, you don't get the reward. *gasp!* You wouldn't want that, so you push yourself to succeed. It's a great concept.

But is it working?

Most of the time the rewards system is broken, flawed. I was crazy guilty of taking advantage of my rewards last year, but I suspect I'm not the only one who has fallen prey to temptation. In 2009, I rewarded myself for a job poorly done, for goals half-accomplished, for alternative goals, for goals met far beyond the deadline I'd set, and prematurely for goals "to be accomplished". And all I did was reinforce negative behavior.

So what's wrong? Aside from "good enough"-itis and "the real world ate my week and my mood is foul so I need something to pull me out of my funk" excuses, we could be setting the wrong rewards:

"I'll buy it anyway": If you have the money set aside for something that you intend to purchase anyway, this is not the right kind of reward. For example, if you're an avid reader and there are books you intend to purchase, and you pre-make that purchase, you can say "I won't read this until I meet my goal" all you want. But you ARE going to break down and read it before you've accomplished that goal in its entirety.

"I'll play this game/read this book for [set time here]": If you are obsessed with video games, this is not the right kind of reward. For example, if you're addicted to Facebook games and allow yourself 15 minutes to play for every hour of writing time, but you DON'T set a timer or you habitually state "Just 5 more minutes!", this is a bad, bad, bad, bad reward. You will lose hours into games, miss out on valuable writing time, and feel guilty over succumbing to the lure of the game. Likewise if you are an avid reader and a good book will suck you inside its pages and steal the rest of the day.

"I'll go to this movie with friends": If you schedule a movie theater timeslot (or any other event) and have no intention of cancelling that appointment, this is not the right kind of reward. For example, if you've already purchased tickets, it's almost impossible to back out of the arrangement, especially if it's a costly event. No one likes to say to their friends, "I'm sorry I can't go see X-Men 15,021 with you this weekend even though we've been planning it for months: I only spent 18 hours on writing this week and I'm 10 pages short of my goal." So we don't, especially if said friends are non-writing friends, and especially if the non-writing friends don't "get it".

"I'll clean the bathroom": If you don't get real enjoyment out of cleaning, this is not the right kind of reward. This is an obligation, same as your movie-date. For example, if you look at your office and the idea of ripping through mounds of unkempt paper is enough to give you hives, you'll be more likely to throw the goals in the trash than a single wad of misplaced tissue paper.

What are good rewards, then?

*Things you will feel real disappointment in missing out on or real excitement in the act of working toward, but not feel tempted to reward yourself with "because I've worked hard and deserve it". Accomplish your goals as stated, or let the reward shift back to the next time you have a goal to meet.

*Stepped rewards that require multiple elements in order to really enjoy the "big picture" reward. Right now, I have a stepped reward that allows me to buy new costume pieces for the Steampunk World's Fair in May. I have 4 major goals and money set aside. If I miss one of my goals, I still have a closet of clothes to rummage through, but I might not get the spiffy lace ruffled Victorian jacket I've been ogling since last summer. And I reeeeally want that jacket, because without it, and the skirt, and the boots, and the belt - I'll just be cool. Not SUPER cool.

*Things people (friends and family) hold hostage and refuse to reliquish, no matter how piteously you beg. ("But I got through 5 pages today, that's more than zero! You can let me have my PS3 controller back...please?" "Is 5, 10? I don't think so. *whip crack* No goals met, no rewards, sucka!")

*Time spent with friends that isn't premeditated. Meet your goal, THEN schedule your reward meetup time.

*Timed rewards. If you can train yourself to use the timer truthfully (and not effectively "snoozing" on your allowance of reward time) this can be a fabulous way to make yourself stick to your rewards.

*Mini-rewards for those incomplete goals. If you must reward yourself for effort instead of endgame, promise yourself a smaller reward. This then becomes the "if I almost make it, and I'm happy with my achievements, I get this instead of the big thing over there" and leaves the big shiny reward for your major accomplishments. Just make sure that you don't make the small rewards more appealing than the big ones!

This whole spiel doesn't apply to everyone. Some of us are rockstars in the self-discipline department. The rest of us have to work harder, set more meaningful rewards, and keep those goals of ours manageable in order to allay frustration.

The moral of the story?

Don't go to the dark side. You won't be taking out Alderaan - you'll only be hurting yourself, your self-esteem, and your willingness to meet your goals in the first place.

Don't reward yourself for a job poorly done, for goals half-accomplished, for alternative goals, for goals met far beyond the deadlines you set, or prematurely for goals "to be accomplished". Don't reinforce negative behavior. Be tougher on yourself. If you don't meet your goals regularly, make them more realistic. If you meet your goals far in advance, step them up to give yourself more of a challenge. And perhaps most important of all: Be honest with yourself.

A New Game Plan to Avoid Moral Victories

Now some of you may know that I'm a football fan. A huge watch-whatever-game-is-on football fan. I've watched a lot of not-so-good football teams play tough against really good teams. The fans and the commentators always say "Well, they played tough. The [INSERT LOSING TEAM HERE] can grow and learn from this. That was a real moral victory."

Bah, I say. A loss is a loss is a loss is a loss. And losing is no fun. It is hateful. It makes you want to cry and pout. Although I do not recommend doing it on national TV. The commentators will make fun of you. See this poor guy as an example.

How does this relate to writing? Funny you should ask. I've had too many moral victories as a writer. I've got to stop saying "At least, I wrote today. That's something." Or "I've got two first drafts. That is more than I had before." This is not the kind of thinking that a successful writer has. I've been writing "seriously" for three years, but I've not sent out a single query letter. I have had the "Wait until next year mentality" for far too long.

No longer will this be the case. I'm changing my game plan.

I'm giving myself deadlines and am making myself publicly accountable for those deadlines.. I'm stating here that this is what I have to do this year. Look for regular scoring updates throughout the coming year.

Game Plan for This week: Write 6,000 new words.

Game Plan for the Rest of the Season:

1. Finish a 90,000 word first draft of TDC by the end of January
   
2. Plot MLTM – World War II short during the first week in February
   
3. Write a 10,000 -15,000 word first draft of MLTM by the end of February
   
4. Read and EDITS the first draft of TDC by the end of February. Make Notes
   
5. Plot GL in April..
   
6. Complete the first pass of Revisions on TDC by the end of May
   
7. Submit TDC into the Maggies and other contests as time permits.
   
8. Read and EDITS the first draft of MLTM during the first week of June. Make notes.
   
9. Complete first pass of revisions on MLTM by end of June
   
10. Complete second pass of revisions on MLTM by the middle of July
    
11. Query MLTM by the beginning of August.
    
12. Complete a first draft of GL by mid October.
    
13. Complete second pass of revision for TDC by the end of September.
    
14. Cry and send my second born novel into the big bad world. Query TDC during the month of October.
    
15. Plot as yet unidentified novel during October.
    
16. November 1^st – NANO BEGINS!!!!!
    

Making Up For Lost Time

Deadlines are a tricky thing. You set them, you remind yourself of them, and hopefully you meet them. But life is complicated and tries to derail you. You have to prioritize and reprioritize and pick and choose your battles with the calendar.

Time management can sometimes feel kind of like balancing a ball on your nose while juggling knives and dancing on a balance beam.

On occasion, you drop a knife. (Hopefully said knife does not land on your foot or end up clipping an innocent spectator . . .) Falling a little behind in your time management is okay; mistakes happen and life gets in the way. You buckle down, devote a day or a week or whatever you need to really focusing, and get back on track.

Sometimes, though, you drop all the knives, the ball bounces right off your nose mid-step and lands under your foot, and the next thing you know you're down on the mat, staring up at the ceiling.

You're so far behind that you can't catch up with a little extra diligence. It's just not physically possible. Crap! What do you do now?

My answer: you catch up with a lot of extra diligence.

I'm in this position now. I have this glorious three-book-a-year plan with writing timelines and revising timelines and querying timelines and everything designed to overlap beautifully. A key component of that plan, however, is that I get the first 50,000 words of my winter project written during NaNoWriMo.

The problem: I did not win NaNoWriMo this year, and I'm not even keeping the 36,000 words I did write. I'm scrapping it and moving on to a whole different project. So now I'm 50,000 words behind schedule. That's not something I can make up in a day or two.

I suppose I could shift my deadline. It is my deadline, after all. One of the benefits of being an unpublished, unagented, aspiring novelist is that the only person I report to is me. But because all of the timelines are wrapped around each other, moving one deadline means moving them all. And I don't want to derail my whole year just because I spent November working on an idea that turned out to be a dud. Dud ideas are bound to happen and I need to work around them.

So instead of a few days or weeks of extra focus, I'm going to try to spend the next few months making up for that lost time. I spent the morning going through my goal tracking spreadsheet, tweaking the next three months. I cut out a few of my days off. I raised the bar on my daily goals by 1000 more words on writing days and 5 more pages on revising days. If all goes according to plan, I'll be back on track by the end of March.

It'll be harder. It'll take more dedication and effort. But I'm creating time here. That ain't easy.

Rewards for NaNoWriMo?

It's NaNo, and I'm not having any trouble keeping above a daily 1,667 word count because I've had a set daily goal all year long. It feels like a tiny boost compared to last year's uber-challenge. As of last night, I was already up to 12,226 words! So if I want a real challenge, I have to spice things up a bit.

This month, I will:

Write 50k words from beginning to THE END of one or two versions of the story driving into my skull.

Complete four steampunk rings and post completed pics up on my blog to show off the finished results.

Give up my Saturday morning writing time in leiu of "Husband Appreciation Time". This is prime hours for me productivity-wise, but the hubby is so supportive and awesome regarding my writing efforts that he should get a medal. (In leiu of medal I'll be popping something in the slow cooker on Saturdays and watching a movie with him...hehe!)

Increase my baking to 2 loaves of bread a week (yum!) to have extras in the freezer.

Stock up on frozen baggies of homemade slow cooker soup.

My rewards? At 25k I get to start using the WiiFit Expansion pack in my daily exercise routine. At 50k, I get to hit the bookstore for Cherie Priest's new novel: Boneshaker. And for the first two weeks of December I get to avoid writing altogether while my prose stews -- time enough to binge on the new Sims 3 expansion pack, whittle down my TBR pile, and busy myself with holiday craftiness.

What are your rewards for meeting your goals this November?

There's No Crying In Baseball

Some of aspiring novelists have very lofty goals for their writing. They seek to be international bestsellers, crafting works of fiction that the whole world will read and recognize, that will integrate into pop culture and be remembered for centuries to come.

If those are your goals, that's fine. To each his own. (Cicero. Now there are some words that endured for centuries. Twenty of them.) Those are not my goals though. I mean, don't get me wrong. If one of my novels ends up that way, I'm not going to say no. It's just not where I see myself going.

Truthfully, at this point I would be psyched to have a real publishing house offer me just about anything to publish one of my novels. Just having my words go into print and show up on the shelf at the bookstore would be amazing.

In the end, I think my goal is to be midlist. To make enough from my writing that I can support it but not enough that people sit in their living rooms with their critique groups and bitch about how crap my work is. (Not that I've ever done that. . . *innocent whistle*)

But beyond the money or the publishing, I will now confess something that has long been one of my most desperate goals: I want to make someone cry.

Yes. I just said that. I want to make someone cry.

I am one of those people who is very susceptible to the emotive content of a story. I have been known to sob at the movies. To blubber at the end of books. I have even teared up while listening to the radio. That last one is dangerous while driving. I don't recommend it.

And I want to be able to do that to someone else. I want my writing to draw them so far into the story, to make them care and invest so much of themselves in the character, that when something sad happens, they really feel it. And they weep. Maybe they don't bawl like a baby, because they're not like that. But they get misty-eyed and possibly there's a sniffle. That would be awesome.

Ladies and gentlemen, mission accomplished! The other day, a fellow member of the TriMu (who I will not name here; she can out herself if she wants to, but I don't want to embarrass her, in case she never reads for me again) read the first draft of my latest project and called me to tell me she cried at the end.

Victory is mine! (Points to whoever comments the origins of that one first)