When I was employed at a little legal think tank, I spent a lot of time on causes dear to my heart: welfare rights, abortion rights, indigent health care. Most of my companions in these causes were volunteers, who had to follow their fervor outside of whatever job they were paid to do.  But at my job, which was largely self-defined, I was encouraged to engage with the community, and even had a secretary to help me with it!  So people were always asking me to do things – go to meetings, chair committees, give speeches.

For years, I was The Girl Who Can’t Say No.  And like most yes-sayers, I got in over my head, floundering to avoid drowning, dropping balls, mixing metaphors. Then one day I had a vision*** of a strange bird sitting on my shoulder.  It turned out to be the No Bird.  Since then, whenever anyone asks me to take on a project, the No Bird asks three questions. “Is it worthwhile?  Do you have time? Do you want to do it?”  Unless I can say yes to all three, I’m required to say No. This is harder than it sounds.

THE NO BIRD

First, worthiness is hard to assess.  Doing a kindness is always worthwhile. Fun is always worthwhile. Speaking truth to power is a moral imperative, and therefore usually worthwhile, though efficacy must sometimes enter into the equation, and one must beware of the self-aggrandizing tendency.

Time is elastic. If you want something done, ask a busy woman. Even if she consults her calendar for other commitments, she probably hasn't scheduled down time: time to lie in a hammock, drink a cup of tea, sit and stare.  And as she considers the request, she'll probably ignore family obligations and general maintenance.  So she's likely to say yes, and down time and all the rest get squeezed out. 

“Do you want to?” can also be a tricky question.  They like me, they like me. They’ll be angry if I say no.  I’m the best (or only!) one who can do it.  All these lead me to think, well yes, I kind of want to. But if the thought of it fills me with dread and depression, if my throat tightens and I want to hide under the bed – that’s a pretty sure sign that I don’t. 

Sometimes I overrule the No Bird. When worthwhile really means essential, and I’m truly the only one who can do it, we argue quite fiercely, and eventually the No Bird has to shut up.  (You can see that her beak is a little the worse for wear.)  But by and large my silly bird has been very helpful, and I haven’t joined a committee in years.

 *** Inspiration always comes to me in pictures. A house collapsing into a sinkhole, an infant left by a dumpster, a man standing in shadows at the edge of the woods – these sudden images generated my three novels.

 

NEXT WEEK:  The Twelve Days of Houseguests

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