I Have a Job

Once upon a time in high school, my mother told me something. She told me a lot of somethings, actually, but this one stands out. She said that since we were privileged enough to not need everyone in the household to bring in a paycheck, she never wanted me to have an after school job, unless I really wanted one. She told me school was my job, and I should never have to compromise my school life just for a second job. When I graduated and started college, she told me the same thing. I could live with her rent-free and not have to pay bills so long as I was making a clear effort with my classes.

About halfway into my degree, a lot of stuff happened that resulted in me dropping out. My parents moved back to our hometown, and my husband and I got our own little apartment.

There's a laundry list of reasons why I couldn't realistically get a job, and those reasons persist. When I initially dropped out, my husband turned to me and said, since I wasn't in school anymore, and since I couldn't get a so-called "real" job, I really should focus on my writing. School couldn't be my job anymore, so writing should be my job.

Thing is, it hasn't been. For a long time I rationalized not writing with, "oh, there are other things to do, and they're more important." I thought of my job not as writing, but as keeping the apartment in order.

But I'm running out of excuses. My role in our household is to do the budget and to cook. I'm not even responsible for housekeeping. My husband brings in the paycheck, our partner keeps things clean and tidy, and I do the books. That really doesn't take up a lot of my time, and I'm good at it. It's not something I have to agonize over and spend hours finagling.

Well, okay, I have to do some finagling, and sometimes there's some agonizing, but that's mostly because we live in a society that doesn't think people need a living wage. And that's another post entirely, and not one that's entirely relevant to this blog.

I digress.

My point here being...I have no excuse for writing not to be my job. I have no excuse to keep pushing it to the side and pretending I have more important things to do. I have absolutely no reason to not schedule uninterrupted time just to work on my book. And, as many people wiser than me have pointed out, if I don't treat my time as valuable, why should anyone else? If I don't set aside time just for writing, and hold myself to that, what's to stop people from continuing to act as if I don't do anything and I just waste time sitting around in my underwear?

If I don't sit down and make a real effort to make writing my job, what's to stop me from continuing to feel aimless and frustrated with all the time I waste?

So yeah. Starting today, I'm starting to pencil in several hours of writing time each day. During this time, no one is allowed to bother me unless there's a real need. I'm not going to say it's writing time and just keep goofing off on Twitter. I'm not going to pretend there are more important things I need to do and act like my writing isn't serious.

My writing is serious, and I'm not going to let anyone pretend it isn't. Myself included.

Until next time,
J.

Slow and Steady

In October of 2008, I conjured up an idea for a book. It combined some minor elements of stories I'd been sitting on for a while, but for the most part it was fresh, and new, and exciting. I wrote it for NaNoWriMo that year. I fell in love with the characters and with the story. I edited and revised, and then I wrote queries (and I sent them way too soon, but that's another story). It was my baby, but eventually I had to shelve it. It wasn't going anywhere right then, and it was time to move on.

I never did forget about that story, though. It was constantly in the back of my mind and, in January of 2014, I revived it. I've been working on it off-and-on for just over a year now. I'm about halfway through the writing. It's not where I want it to be. I originally wanted to have it finished by now. I wanted to be working on edits and revisions and cleaning it up after letting my writing friends tear it apart. If I look at my original goals, I am so desperately behind.

But you know what? I've decided that doesn't matter. Life happens. Things get in the way, motivation waxes and wanes, and sometimes you just need to take a step back and work on something else.

Lauren DeStefano posted something on Tumblr this evening that really resonated with me:

you do NOT have to write every day to be a writer. I’m a writer and I have a designated day where I do nothing but eat chips in bed. [link]

I don't write every day. I go through periods where I try to, but some days I just can't, for one reason or another. Sometimes that reason is that all I feel capable of is sitting on the couch and watching Netflix. And you know what? That's okay. I'm not on a deadline. I don't have a magic date where if I pass it, I'll never be able to publish anything.

It's important to push myself, I believe, but it's equally important to know when other things have to come first.

So with that I leave you, reader folk. I'm going to finish this episode of Orange is the New Black, get some cleaning done before my in-laws come visit this weekend, and maybe, if I'm up for it, finish the chapter I'm working on.

'Til next time,
J.