Flow is that magic place where work keeps happening smoothly and easily, and the next time I look up from what I’ve been doing it’s done and time has passed me on by.

I can get into a good state of Flow with writing, designing, and even seeming scut work like website updates, and when I do, it reminds me of why I do what I do. It’s when I can’t seem to find my way into that space that I get frustrated and behind, so this post is to remind me of the things that (sometimes) work to get things Flowing.

• Make a cup of tea, and don’t forget to drink it.
• Just get started.
• Make a list of what needs to be done, and check things off as I finish them.
• Play a game of something brain-stimulating.
• Open one file, and do something easy.
• Close a bunch of tabs until the browser no longer mocks me with its waiting articles.
• Eat a piece of chocolate or two.
• Set up all the equipment for it – open the Scrivener doc, get out the Wacom tablet, pull out some paint tubes, get out the Copic markers, take the computer to the scanner desk.
• Put on some really embarrassingly rockin’ ’80s tunes and go clean something small, just to get the blood flowing.
• Take a shower.
• Move to a different spot.
• Put up an away message on IM and tell people I’m working.
• Pick one thing, and start.

Obviously, some of these tricks are me-specific, but some of them would work for other people. I’ve often found that, no matter how much I’m avoiding something, if I just start it then that resistance skulks away in the face of my obvious productivity.

Also, chocolate really does help.

Do you have any tricks you use to get into the Flow of things?

I finally got the Antemortem Arts site put together enough to admit that it exists. There’s still a lot (seriously, a lot) of art left to be put up, and some things need refining, and a certain minion’s got to help me get the gallery plugin working this weekend, but…

It’s up!

Go visit Antemortem Arts — even if you’re just looking, it’s okay. That’s what art is for, y’know?

Last night I went into the depths of the guest bathroom (for use only by cats) and brought out two big dusty boxes, still sealed from my move. I cleaned them of their lightly-scented clay dust coating, opened them up, and pulled out a big pile of my history.

And holy crap, that was a lot of art.

It was pretty cathartic to go through, deciding what I liked well enough to eventually put up on Etsy or my (soon to be launched) new art site, and what I wanted to keep for sentiment or self-archiving purposes. The best pile, though, is the rejects.

Stuff I was never that happy with, but kept because I had teachers who said, “Never throw anything away.” Stuff I liked once but have grown out of or away from. Stuff that just never quite came together right. Stuff I hated right off the bat.

Old Stuff.

I have a pile of it in the corner now, but one piece has already been sacrificed to the Etsy gods — I took a mediocre monoprint, cut it up and remade it into a gorgeous blue origami gift box, sturdy and rough and interesting. And now it sits atop that pile of Stuff and reminds me that there’s no such thing as a failure in art, because old art becomes new art supplies.

And the best part, of course, was revisiting old pieces that I do still love, and thinking about whether I’m ready to show them to other people, to send them off to new homes, to get them out of their dusty prisons and into the world where they belong.

And you know what? I think I am.

I always have trouble deciding, when asked my favorite time of year. I love the growing warmth and green of spring (despite the pollen), but all the best holidays are at the end of the year when winter’s on the way.

Halloween, of course, is one of my favorites, with its emphasis on identity and mystery. And Christmas, when the whole country stops being quite so nasty and remembers that charity really is a virtue worth pursuing. Plus, I love giving presents. And getting them. I know other people have other winter holidays, but secular Christmas is pretty unavoidable in the US, both the rise in charitable donations, and the ridiculous consumerist push.

So here’s my one bit of gift-giving advice that works every time: Give the person something that, when you hand it over, you can genuinely say, “I thought of you when I saw this.”

It really is the thought that counts, too, because often in the rush to check names off of a list gifts are chosen quite thoughtlessly. Rather than finding one item that makes you think of a friend or loved one, you rush and grab and move on to the next store and the next holiday sale, because that’s what everyone else is doing.

As decluttering is on the rise, let’s try to do this for each other this gift-giving season — don’t add to someone else’s clutter. If your dad hasn’t been hinting about wanting a new electric razor, don’t give him something he won’t use because he’s always preferred blades. If your mom isn’t a perfume wearer, don’t clutter up her bathroom or dresser top with another bottle that’ll evaporate before it gets used. And for goodness sake, don’t buy those kitschy wooden apple-themed teacher gifts unless the teacher actually collects such things.

So what do you do when nothing stands out? Try rethinking the reason why you’re struggling so hard to get them a gift in the first place. If it’s someone you wish you knew better, considering giving them the gift of a dinner out together, so next year you’ll know that they have a secret collection of undead bunny figurines or they love anything with a frog on it. If it’s your child’s teacher, consider a donation to education, a classroom fund, or a gift certificate to a favorite restaurant so they can enjoy a night away from grading and lesson plans.

It is the thought that counts — so make sure you really think this year about what would enhance the lives of your loved ones, instead of trying to fill a quota.