There Will Always Be Something . . .

Current Project: NMMNG
Status: Outlining

I had a different post for today all about back story, but I had a different kind of day today than I planned. A friend lost her baby at 26/27 weeks gestation, and my day was spent trying to figure out how to support her family. I had my brother here, and I had high hopes of sneaking some writing in while the hurricane was occupied. Three months ago, a different friend lost a child, and I lost my writing momentum for weeks. A few weeks ago, my dad was sick, and I had to fight against the tidal wave of procrastination that threatened to capsize my meager WIP. I am the Queen of the "It's Always Something" excuse club. I didn't write for most of my pregnancy, and then I had a newborn, and then toddlerhood was hard, and I have all these classes to teach. . . .

It will ALWAYS be something.

This hit me a few weeks ago when my Dad became ill, and I realized that there will always be things more pressing than writing. Life is not going to slow down and hand me time to write. If not a demanding toddler, it will a new baby, an ill parent, a death in the family, or a friend's tragedy. I see Alice with her mother, Genene with her son, Eli with her illness, Lisa with her school, Debbie with her job uncertainty, Paty with the six zillion hats she wears, and I am continually inspired by the way that you all keep going in the face of adversity.

The easy choice is always to turn away from the blinking cursor. It is easy to do the "selfless" thing and put others first. There are only 24 hours in a day, and none of them are programmed to throw a quill at you and shout, "GET WRITING! THIS IS YOUR CHANCE!" Instead, there are phone calls to make, anxiety to beat back, lunches to prepare, noses to wipe, conversations to have, and there is always just one more thing that you could do. It is easy to fall into bed and think, "Tomorrow. Tomorrow, I will write."

Except, what happens when tomorrow ISN'T any better? And the day after that? We have a family joke about my father and a rubbish pile in the garden. "When are you going to burn that, Dad?" It was too windy. There wasn't enough wind. It was too sunny. It was too rainy. It looked like it *could* rain. It looked like it wouldn't rain soon enough. He had better things to do. He had nothing to do, so he needed a nap. He lost his matches. He had matches but couldn't find the hose in case he needed water. He didn't have a chair to sit on to watch the fire. If we were going to have a fire, we should have marshmallows and hot dogs, but we had none. This went on for YEARS. And then, one day, my mother went out, lit the pile, and 15 minutes later, there was only ashes instead of a pile of excuses.

Writing is my rubbish pile--the task I keep putting off, waiting for an ideal moment. Lately though, I've been talking back to that voice in my head. What would a perfect moment look like? Clean house, accomplished to-do list, bills paid, work caught up, rested, fed, and toddler on a five hour nap? Sure. And I'll dedicate my first sale to the flying pigs I just saw. There will always be something. And just as surely, I will always pine for more writing time.

It is not in my nature to write productively through pain. I have so much other stuff churning around in my head that it is easy to let writing slip. But, in the last year, I've been working on changing that mentality. I don't want to be hobby writer. I'm not sure if I've written that out before, but there it is. Leaving aside all doubts about my talent and my voice, I want to be a paid writer. And that means being able to produce in the face of distractions. I teach my classes when I would rather not. I read stories, assemble puzzles, and prepare lunch when I would rather not. I clean . . . okay. Bad example. But, I AM capable of doing stuff when distracted.

The key for me is making writing one of those things that I do no matter what. I am working on acknowledging to myself that, yes, this bad thing happens, and my heart breaks, and I do what I can to make the situation better, but I still write. And that doesn't make me a bad or callous person. Especially in light of my friend's tragedy, the temptation is so strong to bring everything to a screeching halt and simply rail against the universe and all its injustices and not resurface for weeks or months. I feel like a bad person for writing when someone I love is hurting or when I put things off to write. It sucks when I can't make things better or take away a love one's pain, and so I feel really guilty when I write instead of X million other things that I could do.

So, to deal with that, I'm starting a list. I call it my dedication list. Each time I feel guilty about choices I make, I add a line to my dedication page:

To the budgets I could be writing, to the cakes I could be making, to the "Little Bear" videos I have playing, to the dishes spilling over, the laundry exploding, to the husbands I'm neglecting, to the wallowing I'm not doing, this book is for you. To my father, to my friend C and her daughter, to my friend D and her daughter, I honor you with this book. If I had a beer, I'd raise it, and if I had a hat, I'd tip it, but I have a pen, so I'm writing.

What would your list look like? Has it been a struggle for you to make writing a priority in your life?