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No Time to Write? By Sherryl Clark
People often say to
me, “How do you find the time? You’re so prolific.” Well, no, I’m not.
A lot of the time I feel guilty because I don’t spend as much time on writing as
I could. Notice that I said could, not should. Should is like the
stuff we got told as kids-- you should eat your veggies because there are
starving children in Africa. If we think of writing as a should task, where is
the incentive to do it? You’re trying to work out of a sense of created guilt. I say could because
I know that I waste time. And even more importantly, I know that I
procrastinate. Why? Because of fear, I think. Fear that I will have nothing to
write and I will sit there for hours producing zilch. Or more often, fear that
anything I will produce will be terrible. Despite all I know about rewriting,
and how the first draft is nearly always either bad or just not what you wanted
(because you wanted to create that miraculous story in your head, and what
happened to it between your brain and the page, darn it?), I still have to
convince myself anew every time that all I have to do is sit down and write. Usually I get there
by telling myself that I only have to do one page. What’s one page? Even if it’s
an awful page, just write ONE. And eventually I do. And most of the time I write
a lot more than one. But I still have to talk myself into that first one. How do I waste
time? The way everyone does. I read, do housework, e-mails (they’re a time
killer), catch up on paperwork, do class preparation (because I teach), talk on
the phone... you just add in your favorites. And it’s always time in which I
could be writing. How do we solve
this problem? I doubt we can do it by beating ourselves over the head with a
heavy dictionary, or any other implement. That’s the road to more guilt and
shoulds, and it’s best to avoid those. I like an analogy I
read in Kristi Holl’s book, Writer’s First Aid. A professor shows a large
jar to his class and fills it with rocks. He then goes through a process of
asking them if the jar is full. Each time, he demonstrates that it’s not. To the
rocks, he adds pebbles; to the pebbles, he adds sand. Is the jar full now? No.
He then adds water. Many of us assume this analogy is about how much we can cram
into our day. Kristi says no-- think of the rocks as your writing. They have to
go in first, otherwise you will never fit them in with the other stuff. How many of us put
writing first? Really and truly? We fill our days with all that other stuff and
then try to cram writing into the odd half an hour once a week. There are some
people for whom life is just too chaotic and busy. You might have five kids,
plus an ailing mother, plus you have to work part-time to help feed the family.
I see these people put aside their writing, month after month, and yearn for the
chance to write. Then I read stories
about writers who have all of that and more to cope with, and they still find
half an hour a day to write, even if it means getting up earlier or staying up
later. In half an hour you can write one page. In a week, that’s
six pages (you may take Sunday off!). In a year, that’s 300 pages. A novel. Am I preaching? I guess so. I know that I finally became totally serious about my commitment to writing after I had been to the US for a two-week writing workshop. Every day I wrote in class, I workshopped my own and others' writing, I talked writing non-stop. And at night, in my little room (alone-- bliss!), I wrote. In two weeks I wrote 7,500 words. I wrote every night because I figured that’s what I was there for and I wanted to make the most of it.
Mean it for
yourself. Do you want to write? Really and truly? Then do it.
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