Category Archives: Making Time

All Tied in Knots

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It’s confession time, again. And there’s nothing worse than posting one of these that sounds more like a list of excuses than a list of accomplishments. I have a little of both this month. Okay, more of one than the other.

For the last month I’ve felt like I’ve had my hands tied when it came to getting anything creatively done. Everything from house hunting to laptops breaking plagued me this month. Just classic cases of life happening. Converging all at once makes it suck that much more.

Those were legitimate problems to stop writing for a while. Now they’re not. However, the longer I went without writing, the harder it was to pick it up again. I began looking for other things to do that would keep me from writing. You know, things like house work.

So in concerted effort to break that unhealthy chain, I’ve started to write. My first task was to finish the Round Robin story we set out to do **mumble-mumble** weeks ago. To keep it fair, I didn’t (completely) read it until I knew I’d have the time to finish it. Shooting from the hip is a big premise to the story, and I didn’t want to deviate from that. You can read the full story here, or get to it from the menu bar above.

Now I’ll wrap this up so I might get to another short story I have brewing. In the mean time, can you let me know how you manage to get out of your non-writing slumps? One can never have to many tools at his or her disposal.

Hard Choices

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By S. C. Green

S. C. Green

I find it quite ironic that this week’s topic is “Making Time”, and I’ve been unsuccessful in finding anytime at all to write my post. I could throw out a number of excuses: my wife needed a break from caring for the baby, the house is too noisy to think, the shed is without heater and inhospitable in this cold rain, and on and on. They’re all true, but here I am, down to the wire, pounding this out.

Really, it all comes down to the choices I’ve made. I used to avoid writing both subconsciously and consciously. Do I go for the instant gratification from playing a video game and watching a movie, or do I work on something that will take months before I get that same feeling? I tell you what I picked. Games and movies, baby.

Then came a day when I finally finished my novel. I realized how wrong I was in my original assumption. Sure instant gratification is great, but it doesn’t compare to the gratification in completing a project all on your own. No help. No rules save what I set upon myself. All me. Damn that feels good.

So I made changes.

No more video games. No cable TV. Very few evenings out. I carved out all the things that didn’t aid in my dreams and desires. Those things couldn’t compare to that sense of accomplishment, to create a world and people from my mind and words, twisting their lives’ fortunes. I didn’t know I had an inner megalomaniac. I love it, and I want it again and again. Oh, I will get it.

Now insert life once more. There are few things I hold higher than my writing career. Family and friends (true friends, not the ones that only call up wanting to borrow your truck and moving skills). At this moment my writing does not support them. The majority of my time goes to my job (physically, if not mentally), and I refuse to skimp on quality time with my kids and wife. So how do I make time for everything?

I can’t.

Some days I will write until my fingers bleed, while others I’ll be cooing over my one-month-old (I’m already wrapped around her finger, which is a considerable feat since I’m not that flexible and her finger is really tiny). Don’t get me wrong, I don’t blame them in the least. I made the conscience decision to have them in my life forever, and I will not rescind. They’re my reason to wake up in the morning.

Now I’m learning to scrap together spare moments here and there. A spare fifteen minutes in the morning, eking out a few lines before succumbing to sleep, stolen minutes at work (which is where I am now). It might not seem like much, but it adds up in the long run. The thing is, I’m not giving up just because life got complicated. It’s forcing me to be creative.

And being creative is not all that bad.

Fitting Creativity into a Busy Life

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By Amy K. Nichols

Amy K. Nichols

“When God made time, he made plenty of it.” ~ Irish saying

I’m a writer. I’m mom to two young children and wife to one big kid. I work as a freelance web designer. I dabble in art. I take classes. I go to workshops and conferences.

My friends ask me how I get it all done. Well, I don’t ever get it all done, and I’ll be the first to admit I’m not an organized person. But  I have learned some things about fitting creativity into a busy life.

1. Pay now, play later

If you want to accomplish your dreams, you’re going to have to make some sacrifices. You have to constantly decide between what is important and what is imperative.

Imagine in the middle of your busy day, you suddenly have thirty minutes of free time. No other worries or responsibilities. Do you surf the web? Check email? Chat with a friend? Read? Write? You have to decide what is imperative. If it can wait, let it wait. Spend the thirty minutes taking a step toward your dream.

This means your house won’t be spotless. Your kids’ lunches won’t be perfect. You’ll stay up past your bedtime revising your work. Your friends will wonder why you’ve disappeared. But you’ll be one step closer to your dream. And the more time you put toward your dream, the more time you’re going to find to put toward your dream.

Those who love you will understand. In fact, they’ll encourage you.

2. Feed yourself

Creative in, creative out. If you want to be creative, you’re going to have to feed yourself creativity. In those between moments (driving in the car, surfing the web, reading books, chatting with others) choose to spend time with the people and the things that inspire your creativity. Then when it’s time to be creative, you’ll be overflowing.

3. Don’t tell yourself you don’t have time, if what you really mean is you’re afraid

A lot of people I talk to mention their wish to fulfill their dreams. They want to write books, pursue music, art, lose twenty pounds, run a marathon, etc. And they say, “Someday,” in that forlorn kind of way. And when I encourage them to make the time, they say, “No, no. I just can’t right now. I have (fill in the blank — kids, a job, a dirty house, bills to pay, to diet, to be perfect, etc.).” To which I say, Phooey.

If something is important to you, you make time for it. Even if it’s fifteen minutes a day. Look at your schedule. You’re honestly telling me you don’t veg in front of the computer for fifteen minutes a day? You’re honestly telling me you can’t sacrifice that time doing the thing you love and long to do? Really? I don’t buy it.

You’re afraid. Something’s holding you back. Figure out what it is. Read Steven Pressfield’s The War of Art, and then get busy on your dream. See numbers 1 and 2 above for further guidelines.

Finally, a quick story.

In high school, I made a list of things I wanted to do before I die. It was one of those whimsical things a self-important 17-year old does. I didn’t think about it for ten years. Then, after almost being crushed to death in a mob, I pulled that list out, added a few more items and started doing them.

That event was a wake-up call for me. I finally understood “there’s no guarantee of tomorrow”.

I know I can’t do all of those things right now. Some will have to wait for a later time. But I’m always working on those things that are most important to me right now. Because there’s no guarantee of tomorrow.

There’s only today. There’s only right now. There’s only me sitting here next to my son, writing as he finishes his lunch. Next it’s time for Play-Doh. Later it will be time for work. Time for writing. And, finally, time for rest. And when my head hits that pillow, I’ll know I made the best use of my time.

Will you?

Separating the Real from the Ideal

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Happy MLK Day! Today, a quick post on taking time for writing. My last post, on writer’s block, was quite lengthy, so this one is going to be brief.

I used to think how neat it would be to get up at dawn and write until the rest of my family woke up. What an ideal- the Spartan denial of sleep combined with the wholesome romance of pink sky and dew on the grass. Silence, solitude, work. Beautiful.

I’ve been writing on and off for a decade now. I have never, ever gotten up early to write. Ever.

My point is, when you are trying to block out time in your schedule to write, be realistic. Identify what time you can sacrifice to your art without feeling like a martyr. For me, that’s my toddler’s naptime. I can use that mid-day hour easily. I also try to write at night, but after the whole 1950’s style dinner-dishes-baby’s bath-baby’s bed jamboree that my nightlife has recently turned into, I often lack the energy. However I’ve found that if I worked during naptime, the day’s material still feels fresh enough in my mind that I’m willing to sit down and look at it, maybe do some edits, maybe keep going.

Find the time you can give, without giving too much. Find a door you can close, and close it. Turn off the phone, unplug the modem, and get cracking.