In Chapter after Chapter, Heather Sellers writes, "The number one reason books don't get finished is this: Writers say yes to other things."

Ouch.

A few years ago, I was in line getting books signed at a conference. Catching up with one of the presenters, I mentioned how busy I'd been with volunteer projects. Another speaker chimed in, "You've got to drop the volunteer stuff. Your writing IS your volunteer work; the world needs good children's books."

She was right, of course. Her words still echo in my head on a fairly regular basis. That's because I struggle to follow them. I've gotten much better at saying "no" to things for which I'm not suited - annual funds for instance - though I've succumbed to those in the past.

But leading the school's arts guild? Coordinating regional SCBWI conferences? Being a parent leader in my teenagers' youth group? Helping out at the nature preserve? Not only are these worthy causes I believe in, they have provided networking opportunities and inspiration which informs my creative work. More important, they provide contexts in which relationships flourish. Besides, a couple of these posts have term limits. I'll fold that energy back into "butt in chair" time rather than replace it with new commitments. (Somebody hold me to that!)

In college, a brilliant religion professor asked us if the following adage was true: If something is worth doing, it's worth doing well. He made a striking case against it. If something is worth doing, he said, it's worth doing poorly rather than not at all. We have to ask ourselves, what in my life is worth doing well, and what things might I get away with doing poorly? If it means time to rewrite a chapter of my novel (worth doing well), does it matter if I scrub the kitchen floor on my knees or run over it with a plastic-handled contraption with disposable pad (worth doing, but doesn't have to be perfect)?

A few years into parenthood, I realized that while my kids delighted in my sometimes elaborate birthday cakes for them, they were all about the decoration. The homemade butter pound cake underneath didn't interest them so much. So I still made colorful icing from scratch, but I switched to box mixes with a sigh of relief.

Maybe this point is best illustrated with a story shared with me by a dear, astute friend. A woman was preparing a covered dish for a church function that evening. "You make the best potato salad," she had been told, so she was dutifully peeling five pounds of potatoes, chopping onions, and dicing pickles. While she was elbow-deep in preparations, the phone rang.

Another church member asked for a ride to the dinner. She also asked if they could stop along the way to pick up the chips and dip she was responsible for bringing, as she "just had not had enough time to get to it."

The woman found herself in a spud-inspired epiphany. Homemade potato salad versus chips and dip… Sometimes, doing something poorly will do! Especially if that makes it possible for you to say YES to your writing.

Chips and dip, anyone?