Today, I want to write a clever post about the lessons I’ve learned in the last few days, and how they can be used in my writing.
That’s what I want to do, but I’ve been busy living (I wish I could add ‘life to the max’; really, it’s been a normal, even mundane level of living). I tried flicking through The Five Minute Writer to find a tempting exercise to share – but I got annoyed when I came across a chapter that said if you think you don’t have enough time to write, you’re actually purposefully blocking yourself from writing. Because you’re afraid of failure, or you only like the idea of writing and not the practice, or any number of other excuses.
Pah, I think! Maybe you can spot some time I missed today that I could have used for writing:
4:00 AM – Baby coughing up a frog, better get up and feed her
4:20 AM – Crawl back to bed
7:00 AM – Sneak out of bedroom to grab a shower before baby wakes up
7:10 AM – See to baby
7:30 AM – Baby goes back to sleep, time for breakfast
7:45 AM – Eat breakfast, which has to be cooked and protein based or I’ll waste more precious minutes eating in about an hour
8:00 AM – Get ready to express myself. Finally, inner bearded fantasy writer says. But unfortunately, no, not in the writerly way. In the way that involves hooking myself up to a machine that makes an alarming grinding noise, considering what I have it hooked up to.
8:15 AM – Poke husband to see if he wants to get up yet – look for clothes, panic that all the clothes are dirty or wet still, find least wrinkly looking clothes from the weekend to throw on, brush teeth, try and remember what else I would do to get ready before having another human’s hygiene to worry about (the baby’s, not the husband’s). Oh right – deodorant.
8:30 AM – Fill dishwasher, put bottles on to sterilise, worry that baby will never get the hang of the bottle, worry about her cough, worry that she will scream at husband all morning.
8:45 AM – Leave the house
8:46 AM – Go back to feed to cats
8:50 AM – Leave the house again
8:51 AM – Remember that buggy is in the boot
8:55 AM – Leave the house, drive, street, and village; finally awake enough to consider what I might write later, in between thinking about work.
That’s just the morning. When I get home, at lunchtime because she still won’t take the bottle, I steal baby back and spend the whole afternoon with her. Husband decides to tackle the kitchen floor, removing peel and stick tiles which are stuck down with an adhesive that was apparently created in the fiery pits of Hell, in a crucible of evil. The kitchen floor becomes a glue-rink, somehow sticky and slippery at the same time – plus Husband begins to fear he will be coughing up organs in a short amount of time, as the white spirit he’s using to try and get the tiles up is somewhat potent. We swap places, and while he spends some time educating Baby on the delights of the word ‘Burp’, I rip up the flooring underneath the tiles, getting down to the base concrete, which is not pretty but at least we can use the kitchen to cook dinner and I don’t have to worry that an errant cat will get herself stuck to the floor.
So that was my day today. It’s half past midnight now, and bed beckons. I felt like I had to write something today, even if it’s a long, self-indulgent piece like this. Because really, I know that I am looking for an excuse not to write, blocking myself after all, like the book says. I’m finding the Greyspace difficult to engage with, and I’d rather read other people’s books and play with my daughter. But, despite the title of this post, I can’t live and not write, and I know I’ll regret it if I don’t make space for it in my life. The sleep deprivation is worth it!
Although I doubt I’ll feel that way in 3 hours’ time.