It's not easy when you want to devote a part of your life to a creative pursuit. In fact, the world conspires against you. I was reading a chapter of Elizabeth Berg's book on writing, Escaping Into the Open, and she said it's the same for even a famous and successful writer like herself. She tries to have a schedule for writing, but even friends and family who should be understanding, implicitly feel that she should always be able to reschedule her writing time around their desires. Anyone who writes (or paints, or does fiber art, or pottery, etc.) knows that it isn't that easy to stop and go from that creative space inside the mind. You get into the zone just are certainly as an athletic does. It's jarring to be interrupted, and you can't just flip a switch to begin, either. (Although there are techniques and ways to discipline yourself to get into your creative mind a lot faster)
I care for my granddaughter who is a power-house of energy and intelligence, all in a three-year-old body. Tomorrow is her last day at the kiddie gulag, if we take her at all. Then twenty days will pass before she begins attending her new awesome preschool. We attended the open house last night. The caliber of the staff and the excellence of the facility make me feel so much better about how she will be spending her three mornings a week. Still, twenty days is a lot of time.
Friends hesitate to come over for a visit, knowing there will be lots of interruptions. I have an arrangement to go out to a small writing group one day a week for a three and a half hour reprieve, with 70 minutes of that being devoted to driving.
The GD is working on a present for her mommy. This little project is buying me enough time to quickly type a blog post, and requires the sacrifice of a pad of paper, pens, and copious amounts of tape. Tape is still a fascination to her. God bless the young child's interest in all things.
I have to write something new for the writing group and have a week to come up with something. I used to be able to write if I had a deadline, but that was before my life became so, shall we say, dynamic. The good news is that I rarely have insomnia these days.
I have always said I would hate to have a boring life. Be careful what you wish for. My life is anything but boring.
I care for my granddaughter who is a power-house of energy and intelligence, all in a three-year-old body. Tomorrow is her last day at the kiddie gulag, if we take her at all. Then twenty days will pass before she begins attending her new awesome preschool. We attended the open house last night. The caliber of the staff and the excellence of the facility make me feel so much better about how she will be spending her three mornings a week. Still, twenty days is a lot of time.
Friends hesitate to come over for a visit, knowing there will be lots of interruptions. I have an arrangement to go out to a small writing group one day a week for a three and a half hour reprieve, with 70 minutes of that being devoted to driving.
The GD is working on a present for her mommy. This little project is buying me enough time to quickly type a blog post, and requires the sacrifice of a pad of paper, pens, and copious amounts of tape. Tape is still a fascination to her. God bless the young child's interest in all things.
I have to write something new for the writing group and have a week to come up with something. I used to be able to write if I had a deadline, but that was before my life became so, shall we say, dynamic. The good news is that I rarely have insomnia these days.
I have always said I would hate to have a boring life. Be careful what you wish for. My life is anything but boring.
It got to a point in my own creative endeavors where I had to take drastic measures. I take the dogs out early and run them until they nearly pass out from exhaustion. Then I draw the curtains, turn off the phone, and hunker down one day a week for 5-8 hours of nothing but writing. And woe be unto the person who knocks on my door during that time. Let's just say that if I could perfect deadly eye lasers, there'd be smoking carcasses everywhere. :-)
ReplyDeleteIf I could write for two hours a day, I'd consider myself lucky. I watch very little television and have almost no social life, so it baffles me that I can't have two hours for myself. It doesn't help that I'm too tired in the evenings, and writing late in the day gives me insomnia. Starting out the day with some outdoor time is a good idea. Let me know when you perfect those eye lasers.
DeleteIn about 10 years that darling GD will be embarrassed to be within a mile of you. I just read a short short story about a little kid who draws a big picture of a boat on his wall because he heard his mom say that they are going to a place called "foreclosure" and they are "underwater" and she just read him a book about Harold and his purple crayon. Take good notes of that little creature so you can write about it.
ReplyDeleteI keep meaning to write about what it's like as she grows and masters new skills (and has tantrums and repeats whatever she hears) but the time is going by at a ridiculous speed. Taking care of her is my highest priority in life but, sometimes, I just can't help being me.
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