Deep Work
I’ve been digging myself into a hole. It’s behind our house, and it’s about five feet deep now, but I'm not sure it's the kind of deep work that I want to be doing.
Before buying this house, we knew the retaining wall would have to be replaced. A slice of roof connects the retaining wall to the back wall of the house, presumably to keep a glacier from forming there. That roof also braces the retaining wall off the back of the house, which is bad, according to the engineer that looked at it. The house is on a piling foundation, and the pilings probably don't go very deep judging by how rocky it is here. The engineer said something about the house falling down the hill someday, so we used his analysis to talk the price down $45,000.
Our plan is to dig into the hillside, then build a series of stacked stone walls farther back from the house. The excavator has said that it shouldn't cost more than $30,000 if there is enough rock on-site to build the walls and if I build the walls myself.
He has also asked me to trace and expose the electrical and water lines that are in the way. I broke the axe end off one pick-axe already, so I think we have enough rock.
I’ve done much of the digging with Levi on my back, the extra twenty-five pounds ensuring that I get a good full-body workout. When he falls asleep, I can feel the weight of his massive head rolling back and forth with each swing of the pick. Usually, by the time he’s asleep, I’m into an enjoyable rhythm. At first, though, I tend to be bitter, because I think I should spend my time in other ways.
I had a meeting with a literary agent, and got some encouraging feedback on the first chapter of my memoir. She doesn’t want to see the rest until it is as good as I can make it, because she said, “I only get one first read, and after that it’s hard to look at it with fresh eyes.”
I know I have quite a bit of gap filling and polishing to do with my story, so I won't be able to finish until at least a month or two after fishing season.
Now, with less than a month before fishing, I am spending as much time digging as I am writing.
Part of me knows that the digging is getting me in shape for fishing, and that making physical investments in a house is what turns it into a home. Still, I fantasize about a flat piece of property and a simple house that doesn’t amount to another part-time job.
Cal Newport's blog, Study Hacks: Decoding Patterns of Success, is one of my favorite things on the internet. He also wrote a book called Deep Work: Rules for Focused Success in a Distracted World, which is not about digging holes in the ground.
I want to focus on being a good dad, husband, writer, and fisherman, but if I get sucked into much else, I’m afraid I will wind up being mediocre at all of it.
But, the other day while I was digging, I came up with the idea of borrowing Deep Work as the title for this blog post. Plus, after all my smack-talking on the frivolity of the outdoor industry, it’s hard to justify going for a bike ride when I know I have a lot of dirt and rocks to move.
Fifteen-month-old Levi, though, is rarely happy to wake up from his nap on my back and see me still digging, and Randy the cattle dog squints at me like Clint Eastwood while he sits on a fresh pile of dirt.
Maybe I’ll take Levi and Randy on a bike ride this afternoon.