I had quite a day yesterday. Full? Certainly. Rich? Definitely. Productive? Well, that depends on your point of view.
I had hours and hours of an empty house and no distracting company…and I didn’t write a thing. I did some necessary gardening (weeding around the mint mainly and cutting back the unruly sage bush, which immersed me in delicious calming aromas to the backdrop of gentle rain and an inquisitive young starling) and went for a walk to the river where I sang to the flow for a while until a trio of luminous kayakers came to play on the rapids. That seemed to be my exit cue as the magic was broken by this unnatural image, the colour of which so did not blend in with the landscape. Try as I might I could not re-image them in wooden hollowed out canoes so it was time to go. I returned home to light a roaring fire with great satisfaction as the rain had begun to fall heavily the moment I stepped in the door. I cleaned, cooked, ate and settled in the sitting room with three books at hand to keep me going until X-Factor (!) started. As it was I couldn’t even find it in me to read for long so I channel hopped for a while until what I was waiting for came on and then I sat back and enjoyed my guilty pleasure with the relish of one rarely indulged but keenly attached.
I did nothing but listen to and indulge the anti-should me, wickedly ignoring all the, ‘If you’re serious about being a writer, do it! Now’s your chance! How can you say you’re passionate about writing you lazy fool, write, now! Do you have any idea how lucky you are to have this open quiet stretch of delicious empty hours…you waster!’ Yeah, it wasn’t easy but hey – I switched off the inner receive, glued my hand to the remote and my eyes to the screen and vegetated.
It’s been an amazing week, like almost too much of a good thing and I think my system needed some digestion time. I’ve been so inspired, had so many deep and intense conversations, everyone and everything has been a powerful muse and frankly it was all a bit overwhelming. I think I was drowning in creative adrenaline and I needed to let it settle and so…
Now I have another empty house, empty hours day and the writing has been flowing since about 6am this morning. I sincerely believe the reason for this is because I listened (or didn’t listen, depends how you look at it) yesterday and gave my brain and soul system a bit of a break. I was physical, practical and then mentally and physically numbed out and now all my batteries are plentifully and enticingly fully charged.
I admire those writers who stick to routines and commit to a certain number of hours or words every day. I aspire to being like them and perhaps, when I can truly commit to writing full time I will do a Micelle Paver, a hero of mine who recently shared in an article in the Guardian that she writes 6 hours a day – six hours a day! Wow! Hats off to you Michelle. I guess I’m getting there, making the space and paving the way. I’ve just resigned form one of my part-time jobs and have done three one on one language/writing consultations this week which I really enjoyed and which really inspire me too, hopefully as much as the client. But six hours a day of me writing – not yet…although today, well, maybe…
There’s a café near me called time out, whose slogan is time wasted is never time wasted. How utterly, fabulously, wisely true.