Am I alone in finding the time I set aside to write, somewhat of an indulgence. At the moment,(HAHA, at the moment? Deluded idiot!) as it is not my 'job', ie, I make no money from it, I feel that I must justify any time I spend on it. I view it as a treat. I'm sure to others, it appears I am just sitting at the laptop, plugging away, enjoying myself. I look up often to see the endless stuff that needs doing looking back at me, eyebrows raised, and tapping the watch.
Must be a man thing, I suppose, guilt. You women wouldn't understand.
In a similar vein, I went to Ireland for a long weekend, where my WIP is set, to visit uncles and to get some decent, atmospheric writing done. Instead, I spent most of the time cleaning, feeding or moving around either said uncles or their recalcitrant cattle. In a brief moment of respite, I parked up in the middle of the sleepy town, (where I have a couple of scenes set, pivotal conversations against the backdrop of bucolic ease), whereupon the guards immediately set up a roadblock on the crossroads in front of me, (it being a nice day and all, better i suppose than chasing the drunks around the county town down the road), and the electricity board starting tearing up the tarmac behind me. I would have had more peace in the middle-lane of the M25.
But, guilt can also be a motivator. Recently, I've stopped setting myself tangible goals, the constant missing of which was starting to grate and weigh on the mind. As a part-time, when-I-can writer, I have only one aim now: to be able to enjoy a guilt free bottle of beer on a Friday night, riding the high stool. So now, I ensure that the novel has moved along, or even backwards, every week, and this momentum, glacial though it may be, will eventually get me over the line.
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P.S. A lot of writers suggest getting up 'a little earlier' in the morning 'when we are at our most creative' to get some work done before the day starts in earnest. I normally leave for work just after 5am. I am certainly not very creative in the morning. I struggle to create enough energy to turn off the bleeping, insistent alarm clock. Instead, can I start a new movement and suggest that we have more arguments with our children so that we can write in the peaceful interlude that follows, whilst they fume behind their bedroom doors, and my witty ripostes to their turgid arguments have inspired me to be
' at my most creative'.
