Reader,

When my siblings and I were very young, everyone in our family was given nicknames from Winnie the Pooh. Winston was obviously granted title character status, though he was neither fat nor obsessed with hunny. Other identities were handed out based on the family hierarchy Mom as Kanga and my youngest sister as Roo, for example. However, some roles were decidedly typecast, which is how I ended up with Tigger.

I was a bouncy kid, you see. Maybe even trouncy, flouncy, and pouncy. Sitting still did not come naturally to me, unless I was reading a book. On Sunday mornings, when we all crawled into bed with our parents, I was often kicked out for accidentally elbowing or stepping on someone. "Fun, fun, fun, fun, fun?" Not a chance.

I did not want to be Tigger. I would have done anything to shed my hyperactive tendencies and be someone calmer. After all, everyone knew that Tigger was annoying, and I desperately wanted to be someone that other people liked being around.

I'm not as springy as I once was, but I haven't lost all of my Tigger-ish ways. Case in point: the outline for my book project. I've already shared a couple of iterations with you. The thing about outlines is that they rarely go unchanged as you write. After completing my first chapter ("Playing Hooky") last week, I realized that neither of my old outlines was going to work. So, for the past few days it's been back to the drawing board.

If my outline is so fickle, is it really worth spending time on? The answer is going to vary from person to person. I can only speak for myself. And for myself I say, "Yes, it's worth it—to a point."

I am a very tangible person. I struggle to make sense of abstractions. If I don't have a clear picture of something, either in front of me or in my memory, I am unable to move or get traction. (It's why I've always loathed math and philosophy.) When it comes to writing a book, I need a plan that I can follow. Otherwise, the book simply won't get written.

That said, I get squirrelly when a plan is too rigid. I guess you could say my inner Tigger comes out. What you see may not look or sound like a chortling bundle of joy, but inside, that's the part of me that's trying to come out. It's why I like broad, big-picture plans instead of incredibly detailed outlines with unending points and sub-points. (Or, as I say in my writer's block workbook, a "simple plan that's full of holes.")

These days I'm grateful that I was dubbed Tigger all those years ago. To be a Tigger is a wonderful thing. I relish the sense of play I get to bring to my writing. And I'm really enjoying this process of discovering the shape of this little book I'm writing.

If you care to see what that current shape is, click here.

Now it's time for me to get back to writing. The next chapter isn't going to write itself.

Keep your stick on the ice.

Frank Ewert
Writer, Editor, Book Coach, and Hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo-er
Author of Embrace Your Writer's Block and Blue Ice​