Have you ever wished you had been better at documenting your own life with photographs? For instance, not counting separate dorms in college, I've lived 18 places in my life, in 14 cities and 10 States. (Just one country, though). At this point it would be interesting to me to have pictures of all those places. But, nope.
I have two impediments in my life as far as aptitudes go. One is that I'm deficient in organizational skills. The other is that I'm lazy.
As I've gotten older, I understand increasingly how much working hard is a prerequisite to success in anything. One reason I decided to become a photographer is that I found myself working hard at it. Even in my 20s I already knew that I had a laziness problem, so picking a field in which I could work hard didn't seem like a bad idea. (The other reason I picked photography was that it didn't involve computers. We all know how well that worked out.)
Laziness is in part pathological, I believe. I've suffered on and off from depression for most of my life, and I've been impressed by the degree to which episodes of depression can sap away the impulse to keep up. It robs you of motivation. I remember times when small, ordinary normal tasks simply seemed insurmountable. They took energy I didn't have.
Not recognizing this? Those of you with plentiful amounts of energy are probably feeling a little incredulous here (and I hope not too judgemental). Instead, you should be grateful—just having normal energy is a great blessing. Having abundant energy is a key life advantage. It's curious that those who are blessed with it often prefer to denigrate those who don't, rather than being thankful for what they themselves have.
Of course, disparities in energy level can lead to relational problems sometimes. I read not long ago that George, John and Ringo would be sitting around chilling, and the phone would ring, and they all knew it would be Paul, nagging them to come down to the studio and get to work. Whoever it was telling the story—I think it was Ringo—said something like, "you just knew it was Paul—somehow we could all tell his ring."
Twenty seconds to spare
I'm more normal now, and boy do I ever appreciate it. I really do; I appreciate it every day. I get up in the morning; I keep the dishes done. Every household item I use regularly from dog food to razor blades has a backup waiting; I don't run out of things any more. I haven't suffered from debilitating depression for years. I'm definitely in the normal range of the spectrum now, although not on the high-functioning end of normal, I'll admit. It's wonderful, though.
One change is my approach to time management. Decades ago I used to be oppressed by the feeling that I never had enough time to do anything, so why try? That's characteristic of depressives. Now I'm much more likely to think, let's see, I have X amount of time—what can I get done in that time? If I have four minutes to wait for the tea to brew, I'll think, that's enough time to empty the dishwasher. Sometimes I'll even find something to do when I have an extra twenty seconds to wait. This is relatively new for me. Things get done. It's a better way to live.
Something else that helps me is to think of how little time a task takes. When you're oppressed by depression, little tasks seem insurmountable. But the opposite mindset works for me too, come to find out. Now I'm much more likely to think, "it only takes X minutes, and that's nothing, so just do it." It helps a lot to think consciously of how little time various tasks take. And instead of feeling overwhelmed by bigger tasks, I'm much more likely now to think, "just get started." Do a little.
If you suffer from low motivation, the other helpful suggestion I can make is to pay special attention to the first hour of every day. I start every morning with a prayer (as suggested by my 12-step program), and I always try to get something done first thing. It sets the tone for the day. If I'm lazy for my first hour awake, the rest of the day will usually follow in suit, so I try to avoid that.
Coupled
Organizational ability is a more interesting subject. It's curious that many people don't understand that's it's a skill, an aptitude. It's been my observation that people who have it are just as apt to criticize themselves for it as value themselves for it. They call themselves obsessional or neurotic or words like that, perhaps because they recognize that there's a compulsive aspect to being organized. But organizational ability is a spectrum, and the other end of it can be a challenge. Living an excessively simple life is one way to cope with very low organizational ability; surprisingly, joining the army or a religious cult is another coping strategy. Ordinary everyday decisions are too much for some people. It helps if there's a charismatic leader making all their decisions for them or an organizational structure telling them what clothes to put on in the morning.
It's also a good reason why people who are coupled feel less stress—there's real truth to the old expression "two heads are better than one." It's easier to make decisions when you work on them jointly, and it's easier to motivate yourself to do something for yourself and another person than it is to do it for yourself alone. I can't tell you how many times I've heard someone say they find it easier to cook for others than to cook just for themselves, for example.
As far as being organized is concerned, I think I'm a little out of the normal range on the low end. It can be really hard for me to do things other people take for granted. I don't need to be told how to dress myself, but I can't keep a calendar even when I really try, and this week I missed two medical appointments on successive days (augh), which makes me ashamed.
I think my organizing deficiency is why I've never written books. It's too hard for me to organize large amounts of material. My attempts to write novels have been unintentionally comical, because I wander so much that the story line literally gets lost. Organized people will say, in clipped tones, "just write an outline." Without realizing that to write an outline you need to be good at organizing! I am spectacularly, appallingly bad at writing outlines. I'm honestly not sure I've ever successfully done it one single time in my entire life. Maybe a rudimentary one as a schoolboy exercise, but that would be it.
I've always thought that I could be part of a book-writing team, however. There are examples in history, and screenwriters and songwriters do it. I'm great at wordplay and I love to rewrite and polish, which many writers don't enjoy. I'm good at subtler details like characterization and motivation and I like to add poetry and portent. But the other person in the duo would have to start the ball rolling with a twenty-page discursive precis of the story from soup to nuts. Without those bones, I'd build a jellyfish. I've considered writing an autobiography, not because I feel my life is worth anyone's especial attention, but simply because that would solve the writerly problem of what comes next.
Lucky
Does it sound accurate to you if I were to claim that being organized and having a high level of energy are two things that are essential to success as a photographer? At least to a professional. Although, sometimes, a professional photography business is a mom-and-pop shop—one person handles the business and scheduling, the nuts and bolts, the other does the creative work and keeps up with the photo-technical stuff.
In any event, if you are highly organized, I encourage you not to be scornful of people like me who aren't. You don't need to pity me, either—everyone has their cross to bear. (Hey, I got through this post, didn't I? That's something.) Rather, be grateful for your own gifts. You're lucky.
Even if I had taken pictures of all the places I've lived in my life, it wouldn't matter, because I wouldn't be able to find them anyway. :-)
Mike
Book o' This Week:
Eyes Over the World: The Most Spectacular Drone Photography, by Dirk Dallas. The above link will take you to Amazon.
Original contents copyright 2020 by Michael C. Johnston and/or the bylined author. All Rights Reserved. Links in this post may be to our affiliates; sales through affiliate links may benefit this site. As an Amazon Associate I earn from qualifying purchases.
(To see all the comments, click on the "Comments" link below.)
Featured Comments from:
Paul Van: "I can relate. I have several projects on the go, and it can be difficult to keep at them. So, I follow advice you have given here: touch it every day. It has helped me keep going. While my pace may seem intolerably slow to some, work continues. (I am scanning family photographs, going back to my great-grandfather.)
"However the slow pace does allow me to travel down some rabbit holes. Specifically, family history and genealogy. I'm four years into that particular project, and have managed to connect with cousins I didn't know I had in Western Canada and in France. I have no idea where the next steps will take me, but look forward to wherever it leads me. And yes, this has been a challenge to my energy levels and organizational skills. So far, I think I'm winning."
Mike replies: That "touch it every day" advice comes from Joni B. Cole, in her book about writing.
Hil: "The outline remark cracked me up. My head does not work that way at all. But all through school, you had to write one as a good chunk of the grade. So I had to write the report, assignment, whatever, first, and then from that the outline. Same with rough drafts. The good thing is that it forced me to write early, so I could do the earlier stuff later. Always on time."
John Camp (partial comment): "I've written (I think) 54 novels since 1990, which takes a degree of organization and persistence, but my office looks like a windstorm blew through it. I'm often astonished by the things I find on my desk. I recently discovered my chrome Lumix GX8 there; I wondered where it went. I have another (black) GX8 and had been using that exclusively, only vaguely curious about where its near-twin had gone—I knew it would turn up sooner or later. So I really think it's possible to be organized in some things, disorganized in others."
Mike replies: True dat. When I was in photo school, I decided that school would be my oasis of organized calm in the chaos of my life. I kept everything down at school neat and orderly. My school friends were always amazed when they got a glimpse of the real Mike and discovered I wasn't a neat freak.
Terry Burnes (partial comment): "I have thousands of slides from days gone by, mostly mediocre shots of scenery on various vacations. But in among those are pictures of our family and friends. My wife and I have been talking for years now about sitting down and viewing those slides, discarding as we go, to get down to just the ones that have meaning for us now and to leave the whole collection in better shape for our son, who certainly won't care about the discards but might about the slides of people. You've inspired me to get out the projector and set up the screen and get started."
Mike replies: Might I make a suggestion? Making the decision to discard is often too big a decision. I would guess that that strategy would lead to either keeping too many slides or throwing away ones you'll regret losing. Rather than working by discarding, I would approach the task by making selects. Just pluck out the best, most meaningful slides and take a stab at labeling them somehow.
If you want to, do a "1-2-3" with the selects—1 being absolute best, 2 being the probables, and 3 being the maybes. Just set aside all the rest. That will make it easy for your son to know which ones really meant the most to you and his mom, and he won't have to agonize about all the others, but you won't be tempted to "keep" too many slides or risk discarding ones you'll regret losing.
If you really want to destroy the rejects, wait about a year, make a final pass through all the rejects to rescue anything you think you might miss, and toss the lot away at that time, en masse. Much easier to deal with the loss that way than one at a time.
Something Larry McMurtry said about book collections: culling is hard but makes the collection better.
Ken Bennett: "Interesting essay, Mike, and thanks for writing it. I think I agree that the successful photographers I know (including myself) are both well organized and incredibly driven. Of course, that is often limited to photography, and not the rest of life. It's only in the last few years that I have been more organized in my personal life.
"The best part of Army service for me was the uniform. Get up, put on the uniform, done. No decisions to make. I carried that over to my work life—I wear khakis and a university polo shirt almost every day at work (or a black suit for formal events.) Off work I wear khakis and a black t-shirt. Makes life (and shopping!) easier."
Mike replies: I did something similar in my 20s when I lived in downtown D.C. in a tiny walk-up. I had a terrible time keeping the dishes done, so I got rid of everything I could—kept only a couple of pots and pans and two place settings. It was little enough that I could easily wash part or all of it at any time. It helped me keep the kitchen clean.
Artur: "Mike, thank you for this post. Ironically, I had to read a photo blog with the help of a translator to reassure myself that I also have similar ailments that probably do not delete me as a human being. The consequence of these drawbacks is, for example, that I have never learned the English language and I also write these words using a translator. For me, the best way to get depressed, i.e. to get out of bed on a day off and do something, is even a small photographic trip. As I understand you very well, I wish you peace and good thoughts! Best regards, Artur from Poland."
Mike relies: Dziękuję za przeczytanie Artur! Odbyło się to również z pomocą tłumacza.
Kurt Kramer: "Mike, Thanks for writing this very personal essay. I empathize totally, almost exactly sharing the foibles you wrote about. The inability, the laziness that come with feeling low can lead to self-recriminations that make one go even lower. We are not afflicted to the level that we can’t get through life, but there’s not much joie de vivre. Nice to know I am not alone in this. Now, out to make some good photos tomorrow morning!"
Jim Couch: "This really hit home today. As a fellow depressive I can fully relate. A lot of good practical advice here. THANK YOU!"
Mike replies: Thanks for saying so. After I posted this I felt bad about it—like maybe it was one people wouldn't like. I was relieved to come back later and find positive comments like yours.
Ilkka: "Very good story and good advice. I have found that breaking big projects into smaller tasks greatly helps me into getting them done.
"I have done a book. I treated it like painting a house. I could never paint a house if I think of all the walls inside and outside and ceilings as well. Too many. Impossible. And too expensive to hire an outsider to do it. So I don’t paint the house. I just paint this wall, or this small room. That’s my target, nothing else. Then I get it done. And start planning for the next room. Same way I did a book. One chapter at a time."
