Making Time for a Life of Writing
Photo by Ella Jardim on Unsplash
It is taking me longer to write books these days. For no particular reason other than it is taking me longer to write books these days. I once imagined that as my children grew larger and my nest grew emptier that my work days would grow proportionately longer.
But, much like a newly cleaned out closet, what was once empty mysteriously and incrementally refills.
In the space left behind by my children, I now find myself sitting at my desk doing everything but writing—sending emails, scheduling appointments and events, chatting on Zoom meetings and interviews, reading, organizing my calendar, booking travel, preparing talks and presentations, composing social media posts, daydreaming, and trying and failing to avoid the daily news doomscrolling. Of course there is much grumbling about all I need to do to first clear my head and my desk before my mind can settle on the task of writing. Meanwhile the clock ticks and the hours disappear.
When I meet other writers who seemingly manage to get a lot done in their day, I quiz them—“What time do you get up each morning?” ”Do you find time to read?” “Do you cook?” What I really want to know is, Can you truly have a full and productive life and do all the things that come with being a full time writer?
What am I feeding? Everything but my writing. The tasks that require the least of me.
Once upon a time, at the start of my writing career, my days were packed with the making of school lunches, kid drop-offs and pickups, homework help, sports practices, and playdates, dinner making, doctor’s appointments, rinse and repeat. My writing was tucked in the in-between times, scratched out in the notebooks I toted to and fro.
Often those notebooks were crumpled messes and a diary of life on the go, smudged with yogurt and lipstick, and in the margins of the pages, scribbles of other appointments I needed to keep. I counted myself as a time thief—stealing and sneaking scraps of time away as if they weren’t truly mine to own.
And if I didn’t get the balance just right, if I “stole” or “borrowed” too much from one part of my life, the other parts would feel the shortage. No dinner again tonight? Did you buy the supplies for my project—it is due today! I would apologetically return some of that borrowed time to its rightful owner while my writing sat again unattended, waiting.
My children, having flown the proverbial nest, still have phones that can reach me at all times of the day with grave emergencies. “I’m bored,” one calls to report working from their remote job. Another asks, “What should I have for lunch?” “Should I go see a doctor about…” Meanwhile, the clock ticks and the hours disappear.
“Everyone has a to do list,” says writer Anne Lamott, “Today cross two things off of your list and spend that time writing.”
I have tried Lamott’s methods and many others—color-coded calendars, time blocking, timers, and daily word counts, all with mixed results. I plan my day, hoping that what is on my calendar will translate into some version of sentences or research or even notes on a page.
I begin each day with the promise of accessing more of what wasn’t there the day before. I think of what my writing day will yield each as I do my morning stretches. When I head out on my walk I plan what I will first work on, seeing in my mind’s eye the sentences form. In the shower, I speak to the characters I’ll shortly be visiting. But by the time I descend the stairs and make my way into my office and sit at my desk to begin, I open my inbox and… the clock ticks and another hour disappears.
One recent morning I tried a new guided meditation where the mantra was “What you feed grows.”
What was I feeding? I asked myself, vowing to tuck away that morsel.
I returned to my desk and began my day—Sending emails, scheduling appointments and events, zoom meetings, interviews, reading, organizing my calendar, planning trav—….wait…Is this what I am feeding?
Even with all of the time in the world, I am beginning to recognize that what is sitting before me is not a lack of time. There is nothing that any of my time management books can cure.
What am I feeding? Everything but my writing. The tasks that require the least of me.
The work of writing requires not only time and daily attention but intention. An understanding of the who you are writing about and the why you are writing. It requires the very hard work of committing words to a page. By feeding my to-do list first, the less time I am devoting to feeding my own writing.
Yes, I am busy. And yes, my day is full. Those facts aren’t likely to change anytime soon. But could it also be that I have more than enough time? That what I need more than extra hours in a day is the strength to embrace the time I have and the courage to put aside all else, face the fear of of a blank page and write?
In community,
Lesa
