Writing Schedules

Writers write. It's a simple fact that anyone who's ever made a serious stab at being a writer has at least heard of. But for some, finding even an hour in which to squeeze some writing time can be a daunting task. Things like the Time Finder in Chris Baty's "No Plot? No Problem!" can be useful, but what about when you're not trying to write a 50,000 word novel in 30 days? What about all the other months of the year when you're just trying to carve out some time for some article, poetry, or short story writing? There's a certain amount of discipline involved, and I'm sure I'm not the only one who's periodically tossed up my hands and gone, "No way. It ain't getting done today." Too many of those and I lose my momentum, my drive, my place in whatever project I was working on.

Those of you who try to fit writing into your busy schedules: how do you handle it? Or are you in a place where you hit the end of the day and wonder where it went, and why so much of it was spent doing things other than writing?

The Mountain of Monday

I'm not sure what to write about today, but it's almost nine o'clock and I'd better get something written. I had a busy week last week and I ended it exhausted but determined to Get Things Done starting today. Last night there were loud, flashy thunderstorms which served to keep me from sleeping properly. I awoke with the memory of a dreamed conversation with my father: "Make sure you remember the address of the lot the house is on." I've been groggy all morning so far, even with tea.

My drive to Get Things Done seems to have faded, drummed out by August-like conditions this weekend and the rhythm of the rain overnight. But Buddha Cat is still looking up toward me. He is relentless and silently demanding, encouraging. So I guess I'd better get started.

I have, among non-writing-related tasks this week, what may amount to an inordinate amount of phone calling to do. It might be that the task looks bigger than it is from where I sit right now: trying to wake up, listening to the sounds of cars driving by on the wet road, drawing some spark from the cool air drifting in the window and the sounds of neighbourhood birds calling outside, feeling the weight of not enough sleep on my brain. I dislike spending long amounts of time on the phone. I have a headset to help me work in the background and prevent arm and ear weariness whilst on hold. But the calls are not something I'm looking forward to today. In fact, I suspect I'm going to drag the writing portion of my morning out to forestall the inevitable slog, the questions and statements and explanations repeated over and over to each new person on the phone who doesn't know I've just told this exact thing to five other people this morning, so forgive me if I'm a little short.

I finally have what I need to continue my work for my business client, too. I've gotten out of the habit of doing that work, so there's another thing to get worked into the day. The paperwork sits, waiting to be assessed and tabulated, in plastic grocery bags on my study floor.

On Friday I was so motivated, feeling so accomplished, ready to take on my obligations head-on. It was a great feeling. True to form, though, it's Monday and weariness and the desire to do things other than what needs done are pulling at me. "Ooh, what's in the email?" my monkey mind asks. "Did you feed the cat?" the Judge demands, narrowing his imagined eyes at me. "Can't we just lay down for a few minutes?" whines the part of me where the tiredness lives.

The email can wait. The cat is fed: if she were hungry she'd come scratching at my door. And no, we can't lay down. There's things to be done today, and they won't do themselves. I'm gonna be busy today. I'll see you all later.

On Discipline

Discipline is solitary. Only you really know what you'd rather be doing today. Perhaps you yearn for a long walk, or a cozy quilt and a good book. ... These treats have their time. But their time is not the writing time.
-Susan Shaughnessy, Walking on Alligators

Discipline is hard. It's really difficult to fight off the early morning sleepiness or the monkey mind that wants to meander all over creation and sit down and be creative. There may be other important work that needs to get done. That shoves creative endeavours off to the side. It oughtn't to, but it usually does.

I've written about this before, and I'm sure I will write about it again in here. It's an issue that plagues all modern creatives. We have lives and families and jobs and whatnot else, and frequently we feel as if being creative is something that's not as important as all those other things. The voice of The Judge booms over any attempt we may make to squirm free of responsibilities, to pare out a little time in the afternoon to sit down and write or paint or sculpt or what-have-you. "You should be doing 'X'! You're ignoring your responsibilities!"

You have a responsibility to nurture your creative self, too. Many of us place ourselves and our personal needs last on the list of things that need to get done. I do it all the time. If I'm beholden only to myself, it's very easy to just blow off that Artist Date or say, "Eh, I'll do my writing /tomorrow/." But tomorrow I say the same thing, and the next day, and before I know it a week has passed and I've not sat down to write fiction once. And on the heels of such a realisation comes the self-criticism, the put-downs, the mantras of failure.

It doesn't have to be so. Last week I missed two (TWO!) posts in this blog. I didn't race to catch up, I didn't berate myself (much) for having slacked off or been too busy or whatever the circumstance was. I'll just do my best this week to post here every day, like I usually do. It's okay. I don't want to repeat it, but it's not the end of the world. I'll just keep on going, one word in front of the other.