It has been my goal for a very long time to write a book. I let the idea go for many years but over the last several months, with mid-life firmly fading in the rearview mirror, I can no longer hold off the voice in the back of my mind: write, Mary, write (channeling Forrest Gump here). I am trying to squeeze in the time to write and so I’ve signed up for an online writing course to hold me accountable and to get help in starting the process.
Today I am working on week 2 of the class where we write the first chapter (or any chapter or scene). Week 1 we completed a story summary which had sort of come to me a couple of months ago and I’ve been trying to suss out the characters over the past few weeks which helped me dive into this week’s assignment. Who they are. Where they’ve been. Where they’re going. It’s been an interesting process!
I submitted a couple of scenes earlier in the week and now I’m looking at the feedback and all the holes I need to fill, the main character’s qualities and motivations I need to shore up. I’m questioning if writing is a sane and feasible goal when being a reader suits me so well. I am finding just about anything else to do instead.
The dishwasher needs emptying. Dirty clothes are strewn in piles around my bedroom floor (three rooms away from where I’m working). The kitchen floor, which is in my sightline, is shouting to be steam cleaned and the bathrooms, well let’s not get started there. The counters are begging me to remove all objects to clean and dust. I think you get the picture. Believe me, these things go unnoticed and unchecked Monday through Friday because we’re barely home or I’m sitting outside reading until it’s almost time for bed.
So now I have an empty house (key element) and I’m fighting to keep my butt in this chair. I need to empty my brain of all the ridiculous clutter that is spinning around and get back to work. So here I am emptying it. And my dishwasher is unloaded and a load of laundry is spinning in the background. Sometimes you need to give in to your inner voice to go forward.
Thanks for listening.
4 thoughts on “Writing and Domestic Life”
Congratulations, you are a writer! I find there is a corollary between how much I’m avoiding sitting down to write and how loathsome the task is I choose to do instead. Now all you have to do is come up with a task so repellent you’d much rather write. I think bull castration might be incentive enough.
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Isn’t it amazing what we’ll do to avoid writing!
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