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Last week I wrote about the dangers of ‘and then’ when you’re composing your story. (If you missed the post, it’s here.) This time I’m going to look at the dangers of ‘and then’ when you’re living your life as a writer. Believe me, everything I say here comes from the heart and from long experience!
As an editor and writing teacher, I live my life by the client project. A novel may come in and I allocate three weeks, a month, sometimes more, to the work. During that time it’s my job to live within that book, really. I treat it with the care and attention I would give my own work. Possibly more care and attention than I give my own work …
There are also times in the year when I swing into teaching mode. Or speaker mode. All of these activities entail blocking out time and attention for something that is totally worthwhile and usually incredibly rewarding.
Then there’s the rhythm of life itself, by the day, the week, the month and the year. We all have to accommodate ourselves to constraints: the daily chores, the taking care of others, the commute to work.
Two little words become my mantra: ‘I’ll just finish this lecture prep/assessment/edit/follow-up notes and then I’ll get back to my own work.’
Or there’s the variation saying exactly the same thing: ‘When I’ve finished the … then I’ll …‘
When you’re writing your story, ‘and then’ is all about sequence. Event follows event in your narrative and if you’re not careful it becomes a plod (see Part 1).
When you’re aiming to live the writing life ‘and then’ is all about postponement. It is an endless parade of excuses – valid ones, maybe. But ‘and thens’ can be delaying tactics, interruptions, barriers to flow and to any chance of getting intimate with the stories in your imagination and cultivating a long-term relationship with them.
Last year, task after task rose up before me like a game of Whack-a-Mole. I had simultaneous jobs going on and I never felt clear of any as I multi-tasked. Everyone agrees these days that multi-tasking can be draining and pretty inefficient, however heroic you feel!
I’m sure you recognise all this. I’m sure you also keep saying ‘and then’ and ‘When I’ve just finished x …’. I’m sure it frustrates you too and you end up with your inner critic barking at you. You feel trapped in a sequence that somehow becomes circular, like a snake swallowing its own tail.
When I reached a state of burnout in December, I took a long hard look at the way I organise my life. I’m making changes. I am now allocating, not sequencing. I am stepping on and off the travelator. I have worked out how much work I am prepared to do for others in the coming year and I have blocked that out in my calendar. When the time I am allocating is full, that’s it. I’m full. No more editorial tasks or teaching gigs. Because I have also blocked out time for my creative work. And it feels good.
If what I am saying resonates with you, take a sheet of paper and list the main time-hungry elements in your life. Take a look at what is negotiable. Take a look at how often you say yes to things you don’t want to do because, well, you’re a nice person and you don’t want to let people down. Think about how often you plan to commit to your creative work, after this, that or the other task is complete. Think about how that horizon of possibility endlessly retreats from you.
What can you say no to? What can you live without? Can you reduce your working hours even if it means reducing your income? Do you have social commitments you could cut back on? Can you ask for help with childcare on a regular basis? Can you negotiate time to yourself?
What I have learned is that we all speak about wanting time to write. But it isn’t as simple as that. We need time to think. We need time to let our imaginations breathe. Under pressure, no inspiration, no organic unfurling of magical stories is likely to happen.
I hope that in 2024 you will stop and consider every time you think or say ‘and then ...’
I hope that for you the time for creativity is NOW.
