The (B)Right Side of 25

Hello again Interwebs.

I recently read something of interest. A writer was explaining the utter difficulty of writing. I was surprised and intrigued by this. I had always had the impression that professional authors simply sat down and wrote out their genius with relative ease. Ok, maybe they had a block or two, but the rigid all consuming block of “I saw this all so clearly earlier today, and now I just want to do anything but this”? Never. I thought this seeming inability to write was one of those things that simply defined me as a non-writer, and I resigned, deciding it was better to stick to reading books instead of writing books.

But then I found this article. Here it was, about an accomplished writer who struggled with sitting down and putting words to paper. Or to computer. Whatever. The point being that I could relate to the writer. I could understand. She spoke of setting a time and timeframe to get her work done – 2 hours a day, where work entailed sitting in front of the computer with no internet, no phone calls, and no distractions. It didn’t matter if she wrote a book in that time, a sentence, two words or nothing at all, just so long as she was there. Once the time was up, you stopped. No matter where you were in the process. This made complete sense. It was a small revelation.

I have a whole filing structure full of writings and crafts and art to do or in various stages of being done. I love doing those things. But my most productive time, when I have complete works of paintings and drawings, are when I’m attending those 6 or 8 week free-lance art classes. Yes, I go to learn and to improve. It was the only thought I had when signing up. Go. Be exposed to other artists, learn from them, and get better at doing something you love.

What I later realized was that I valued those 2 solid, dedicated hours of doing nothing, talking about nothing, and seeing nothing but art. And it was up to me what I did with that. I didn’t have to finish a masterpiece; I had bought myself a time block solely for the purpose of arting. This was pretty much what this author in the article was talking about. The only thing I didn’t get right away was why stop? Why stop the creative juices from flowing? The more I thought about my classes, the more I started to see. It was the same. I had to stop because I had run out of time. And until I was back at it again, I had the thought of how I might tinker with it again in the back of my mind. If anything, creative juices were steeping, like an unending pot of tea.

It was like a more substantial “Stars! They’re just like us!” moment. A professional writer, dealing with the same issues I did. She may not be Stephen King, Tolkein, Hardy, Rowling or any of the Biggies I pretend I might be one day in my most content fantasies, but she is PUBLISHED and WORKING as a writer, which has always been a dream.

I’m hoping to be able to work something like this out. She had also explained that she had done up a mock contract with a friend about committing to this 2 hours a day plan… I’m just not certain any of my friends would be able to commit to that!

None the less, though it seems like an immense task (even now, my mind is telling me “You can’t put away a block of time like that! What about house chores? What about other plans? What about making meals? What about when you’re just too tired?”) But it all boils down to simply being able to make yourself stick to it, and managing your time outside of work. Before you know it, it’ll be habit. I think I’ll start tomorrow.

If I’m not mistaken, this article was out of an O Magazine I found at my mothers camper this weekend. If I can find it again, I’ll link it.

Surprising, the tidbits of insight you can find when you least expect it.