Writing Time

The Time

I was participating in a discussion group at a recent writing conference when someone asked what we considered the greatest challenge facing writers. Several of us bogged down in seeking publication answered, “Finding an agent” or “Deciding whether to self-publish,” or something similar. One response given was true for everyone. “Finding time to write.”

Wow. Did those words hit home. Like chimes striking twelve at a ball.

I thought I’d be past this point, by now. But those words ring just as true for me today as they always have.

 I thought I’d finally figured it out. My kids have grown and gone, and I’ve outgrown my day job. I carefully arranged the remaining components of my life around my writing time.

This is it. The time when writing would be my focus.

And then life simply swelled, filling all the available space like a detonated airbag.

I feel trapped underneath the airbag, trying to claw my way out, but it twists and rolls away from me as though it’s floating on water. First one direction, then the other, and just when I feel like I’ve reached the top, it tips, and I’m submerged again. 

The Discouragement

It’s a familiar feeling. I’m sure many of you know what I’m talking about. Perhaps for you that time is set aside for exercising, or planting that garden. For painting that one picture, or pulling out your potter’s wheel.

But there are always all those other things that blow up if you don’t take care of them—NOW. The children, the bills, the laundry, your day-job. By the time you finally get to that one thing you hoped to do, you’re so exhausted you fall into bed in a limp heap and vow to do better tomorrow.

 And then you do that so many times, you stop believing it will ever happen. Life is no fairy tale.

The Magic

When I was a little girl, a friend of the family gifted me a bottle of perfume that stood in a shiny gold plastic base. An ornate clock face rested on the lid of the bottle, and golden globes hung from below the clock face, rotating around the perfume bottle. I loved it! So shiny! So beautiful! In my mind, it was the clock that chimed midnight at Cinderella’s ball. Magical. For a long time, it had pride of place on top of my dresser.

Eventually, I began to wonder why it wouldn’t keep time. My brother (oh-so- helpfully) showed me that the clock face was actually nothing but a sticker placed on the plastic. You could see the edge, slightly off center on the formed plastic. What? It wasn’t real? It couldn’t even keep time? What was behind the glimmery face?

I poked a pin through the golden sticker and found nothing but air. Hollow. There was nothing behind it. It was a bit like finding out that Cinderella was only make-believe.

I didn’t know exactly how clocks work, but I had one whose gears were visible and I could see them spin when I moved the hands. The gold one was beautiful and shiny, and smelled like a princess, but its magic was gone as though it had escaped through the pinhole. It would now reside in the shadow box on my wall. Pretty to look at, but not what I’d imagined it to be.  

The reality

I believed that discarding the other things from my life would leave a clean, blank space of time. A magical time when each day would start with sunlight shining through the Ficus leaves onto my desk, and the stories I’d been dreaming up would flow onto the page.

The time is here.

But it’s not what I’d imagined. It’s still hard work. It’s no easier now than it has ever been to squeeze writing into the skinny spaces available. I have to decide to ignore the chimes warning me that time is up. The ones that tell me that if I don’t flee now, I will be exposed in all my rags for the imposter that I fear I am. Do I go? Or do I grab the single slipper I have left and look fortune in the eye and say, “I don’t need the glamor. I know how to work. Let’s get started.”

The Dream

What about you?

Want to meet me in the morning and start? Click the button below and send me an email. I’d love to hear about that one thing you’ve always dreamed of doing, and how we can help each other find the time.

So many times I’ve heard people say that the only reason they went for that run this morning is because they knew their friend would be waiting there for them. Is that what you need? A group? Do you have someone to text you at 5:30  saying they’re ready for the hour you’d agreed to spend doing that one thing?

If you do, great. If not, maybe you know someone who’d love it if you texted her. Be the one who sticks a pin in the airbag and helps her find a grip she can pull herself up on. Even if that someone is you.