It’s About Time

This post continues discussion of the five components to a writing practice, as proposed by Jane Anne Staw in her excellent talk at UC Berkeley Extension’s Summer Fiction Intensive.

How many of us say that we’ll write our novel, story, memoir, exposé, whatever, as soon as we have the time?  I wish I had a bag of peanuts for every time I’ve sat on a plane next to someone who, after asking the inevitable “What do you do?”, said to me, “Oh, I’d write, too, if I had the time.”

As if all it takes is time.  Clear the schedule, brew the coffee (or pour the single-malt, depending on your fantasy of the writer’s life), rent your garret, and type away. If only.

Some years ago, over egg-salad sandwiches, an uncle asked me, “So do you sit down to write when you’re in the mood, or what?”

Hell no.  If I waited for the right mood, I’d never write.  Writing is like brushing my teeth, I told him.  I have to do it even when I don’t feel like it.  Sure, there are those times (like this morning, come to think of it, standing outside the sauna in the locker room after a swim) when I can’t wait to get home and write down some flair of brilliance (which never looks quite so brilliant after writing it down).  But most of the time, I write out of habit and discipline and because, if I miss more than a day, I feel like a failure, a wash-up, a wannabe.

So how to find the time?  Because no matter what else is going on in your life, there’s always something else to do.

In speaking to a group of (mostly) beginning writers at the Fiction Intensive, Jane Anne Staw offered up the suggestion – no, insistence – that what matters is showing up.  Yep, you’ll have to give up something else – maybe a favorite cable show, or frequent phone calls with your friend in Chicago, or an hour of sleep – but don’t be harsh on yourself.  Demanding, yes, but not harsh.  Find a time that works for you – and it doesn’t matter when it is – and stick to it.  Yes, every day – but not necessarily four hours a day.

I’ve known writers – this was in grad school – who, when they had a story due for workshop, pulled eight- or ten-hour stretches at the laptop.  I envied them their intensity.  But now, fifteen years later, it’s those of us who wrote every day, even for “only” two hours, who are still writing.  Habit and consistency matter.  So does the commitment such habit involves.  If you give to your writing, it will give to you.

Life happens. When my mother got cancer, when my father died, when I became engaged, I took a break from the novel I was writing, the stories I was revising, the nonfiction project I was drafting.  I had too much going on, too many phone calls to make, too much emotional energy invested in the grief or excitement swirling around and inside me.  This doesn’t mean I stopped writing altogether.  “Take notes,” my friend Michael Frank, a writer, said to me when my mother got diagnosed with Stage 4 lung cancer.  “Write it all down.”

I did.  In a computer file of non-proofread, single-spaced entries.  On Post-its.  In a spiral notebook I could take with me to the doctor’s office.  And when life settled back into life, I got back to the novel and the stories. (As for the Post-its and spiral notebook, they provided essential details when writing about the loss of my parents in my memoir, The Water Will Hold You.)

What have you found helpful in carving out time for your writing?  When have you needed to step away, and what’s kept you feeling like a “real writer” when you’ve had to?

 

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About lindseycrittenden

Lindsey Crittenden is the author of two published books: THE WATER WILL HOLD YOU: A SKEPTIC LEARNS TO PRAY (Harmony Books, 2007) and THE VIEW FROM BELOW, a collection of short stories (Midlist Press, 1999). Her personal essays and articles – on topics such as prayer, the pitfalls of too much California sunshine, and visiting a group of lifers at San Quentin – have appeared in The New York Times, The San Francisco Chronicle Magazine, Image, Real Simple, Bon Appétit, East Bay Express, Health, and Best American Spiritual Writing. Her fiction has won national awards and has appeared in Glimmer Train, Bellingham Review, Quarterly West, and other publications. Born and raised in the San Francisco Bay Area, she graduated from UC Berkeley, moved to New York City as soon as she could, and returned to California for grad school. While in the graduate creative writing program at UC Davis, she discovered (much to her surprise) the fun of teaching. She lives in San Francisco and teaches at UC Berkeley Extension. She has completed a novel, and is writing new short stories and a (very early stages) nonfiction exploration of spirituality & sex.
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One Response to It’s About Time

  1. Callie Feyen says:

    I told some friends that the amount of time I spend on Facebook, I could probably teach myself to knit. This gave me an idea. Right before I go to bed, I print out a draft of what I’m working on and put it on our kitchen table. Every time I think, “I’ll just go check Facebook,” I go to the table instead and try and crank out some words. Since I am primarily a “stay at home mom,” I really have to leave the house to write. And while we’ve made room in our schedule so I can do that, I have found that making room to write words as my daughters play, even if it’s for a few minutes, has helped me to continue to think about the essay I’m working on……so hopefully I’ll turn it in soon. 🙂

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