Hit Refresh: Abandon Word-Count Requirements

Twice a year my writing schedule and milestones go to crap. Total. Utter. Crap.

I love it.

The timing has less to do with seasons and far more to do with events. Twice a year, I head east for a notable amount of time to play the roles of sister, tante, daughter, and puppy-petter. My thoughts and my energies are completely devoted to the people (and beasts) for whom I care deeply.  

I need the break.

I am such a creature of habit that one snag in my routine can throw the entire day to shit. When I'm on my seasonal escapes, there is no routine. There is no indulgence in habit. All problem-solving abilities are concentrated on the people and projects at hand. My brain is forced to focus on things unrelated to my stories, which (naturally) leads to white-hot flashes of plot clarity compressed into a passing thought. Yes, scrap paper and a pen are always nearby. If they disappear, I've a #weeniece who can reenact every conversation I've had with myself whenever it's least appropriate.

I return hungry.

Not for food. The saying in the various Krantz households is, "You leave here hungry, it's your own damn fault." No, no. My hunger is for the stories I've left unattended. By the time I return home, I've a renewed drive that's comparable to starting a brand-new story. Only it's better. I know where I'm going and how to get there. I know how long it should take me. Best of all, my refreshed brain knows what tangents to cut to get my story back on the path to Awesome Fiction.

How about you, dear readers? Do you take breaks from your writing to refresh the ol' grey-cells? How long do you allow yourself and what do you do to recharge?

Close Up the Wall

"Once more unto the breach dear friends, once more;
Or close up the wall with our English dead.
In peace there’s nothing so becomes a man
As modest stillness and humility:
But when the blast of war blows in our ears,
Then imitate the action of the tiger;
Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood,
Disguise fair nature with hard-favour’d rage;"

Henry V, Shakespeare

William Shakespeare knew a thing or two about protecting his writing time if this bit is any indication. Or maybe he really was just putting words into the Henry V's mouth so he could get the action going on stage. However, Henry's monologue echoes the advice you've seen this week for protecting your writing time, right? Wall off your time, defend it from all comers.

Here, then, are the bodies with which to shore up your defenses:

If you write, if you want to write, and you're juggling a family and a life as most of us are, you'll get much farther if you accept a few basic tenets.

1. You are equally worthy of consideration as anyone else.
2. Life is happening with all of the bumps, blows and traumas associated therewith. Accept it. Deal with it. Write in spite of it.
3. Recognize that if your writing time is being encroached upon and/or interrupted, you're participating in that pattern.
4. You can only impact one person's behavior. Yours.

The first point is an echo of Jeffe's post from Sunday. It's easy to make excuses for not writing based on whatever our families and loved ones need - but it conveniently dodges what WE need. That shifts us into the whole martyrdom complex where we sacrifice our lives and our dreams on the altar of the family. Reality check yourself. Is your family actually asking you for that sacrifice? If yes, consult a counselor. That's abuse. Most families neither ask nor want you to sacrifice yourself. Healthy families have room for everyone's needs - including yours. Some give may be necessary to accommodate everyone, but at no time should your needs automatically and always take a back seat to everyone else's. You're a member of your family. You count just as much as everyone else. Negotiate your time and your space for writing.

The second point, that life is what's happening right this second, is about excuses. You know the ones. "I've had a lot going on. I just haven't been able to write." A Lot Going On. It should be a sign painted in bright letters and posted above your computer. Loved ones get sick. People die. They're born. They have crises and weddings and graduations and life altering car accidents. You either write through all of that, or you don't. Make writing your refuge, your celebration, your place to go to find sense and meaning and comfort. If you can do that, it won't matter what life brings. You'll write. You'll sink into story and rest there, emerging back into life rejuvenated and calmer. Saner. How, you ask? You decide to do it. It's that simple. And that difficult.

The third point requires that you identify where and how you're participating in the patterns that make it okay for people to interrupt your work. Many of us get caught up in feeling like we're indispensable - our loved ones NEED us, man! What we're really saying is that we've successfully trained our families to lean on us rather than stand on their own two feet.

If you've made that bed, you can unmake it. You can require that family members learn to fend for themselves. I'm not talking about throwing tiny children or pets into the ocean and demanding that they figure out how to swim. That way lies having your house burned down when the six year old decides to stuff marshmallows in the toaster. Start with small, incremental steps that teach self-sufficiency. This makes the individuals within the family unit capable, and it weans you off of the heady, addicting feeling that they just can't make do without you.

The last one is, for me, the real game changer. It's what pushed me over the edge into committing to writing every single day, regardless of what my family said, did, or thought.

It's this: At no point, ever, is it incumbent upon anyone else on earth to respect your writing time. That's on you. 100%.

If you can't write at home without someone interrupting you, go into a room and close the door. Family barges through the door? Get a lock. They knock? Ear plugs. Shouting, texting, and phone calls, constant angst? Leave. Physically leave the premises. Find a coffee shop or a tea shop or an all night diner that will let you flip open your laptop and camp for an hour or four so long as you buy a beverage and a treat of some kind. Cheap office rent. You can take the cell phone with if it makes you feel better, but don't answer it. Not texts. Not ringing. Nothing. Work out an emergency ring code before hand with the one person you trust to not abuse your time. One ring, hang up, call again - this equals an emergency that requires you to answer the phone. (You're also wise to lay out what qualifies as an emergency ahead of time, too.) Anything else can go to voicemail.

You deserve to spend time each day chasing your dreams. It's not just okay to be as ruthless as Henry V about defending your right - it's healthy.

Spinning Time Out of Nothing

by Allison Pang

The thing I've noticed about writing schedules? Neither kids nor cats are particularly good about keeping them. (Or paying much attention to them.)

I've mentioned in the past that I only tend to write at night these days. If I work it right, that's one or two solid hours of uninterrupted time after the kids have gone to bed - and sometimes a little longer depending on my energy level and if I really feel like staying up until 2, knowing I have to get up in a few hours for the regular day job.

I've tried doing the "Mom is writing thing" with the shut door and the timer, but in the toddler days that was laughable anyway. It just led to a massive amount of frustration on my part, because I could never quite get in the zone. Even if I HAD the time, there's one ear that's always open. I need quiet! Why won't they be quiet? Hmmm. That's TOO quiet.... And quite frankly, kids need family interaction - not to mention there's dinner and homework, piano lessons and ADHD counseling that needs to be attended to, let alone plain old quality time.

If I'm under deadline, that'e one thing...but I can't just set the kids in front of the TV for six hours on Saturday while I work.

So compromise is the thing.

I do the late night thing as I can. On weekends, I give one full day to the family - we do whatever it is we're going to do...and then the other day is mine. (As much as this can happen, anyway. Grandma got a new puppy last week - I suspect I'm going to be given rather short shrift for a bit and that's just fine with me.)

But the thing is? Schedules or not, kids have this way of  upending them. Case in point? Last Friday evening, I was settling down to what would be a solid 3 hours of work. It was about 11:30 PM and I was in the zone.  The DH had left for OT, and the kids were in bed and woo hoo!

Only the boy sprog came downstairs complaining of an itchy head about 10 minutes later.

Yup. Head lice.

So...my scheduled 3 hours of writing? Out the window as I shoved him in the shower, ran to the 24 hour drug store to buy the meds and then spent 2 hours picking nits out of his hair and washing all the bedding. ALL THE BEDDING.

(Yes, I've drawn back the curtains of the glamorous life of the author-mother. Exciting, eh?)

So I guess this week's topic is a bit of a bust for me. At the moment, the kids have to come before the writing. In a few years, that will change as they get older and more independent, but for now I just focus on what I can and try not to stress out about the rest of it.

Protecting the Writing Time: Keeping Intruders at Bay

What do I do to keep loved ones from encroaching on writing time?

Let's just say I'm more Josh less Aidan.

Works on people and pets, oddly enough. ~evil laugh~

Why It's a Sign of Love for Writers to Tell Their Families to Bugger-Off

Today is Father's Day in the U.S., so I'm posting a photo of my father, from back in the day. He was a fighter pilot in the Air Force and died in the line of duty in 1969, a year or so after this photo was taken.

For those of you doing the math (yes, that's me holding the apple, but what was up with all the ric-rac on the dress??), that means I didn't really know my dad. I learned very early in life to treasure my family, because sometimes people just don't come home.

It's important to remind ourselves to value our loved ones, especially the ones we live with, day-in and day-out. It's easy to take those people for granted, to use them as convenient targets for our deflected frustrations, to fail to show them the love we have, deep in our hearts.

When tragedy occurs and we lose someone, with grief comes regret. It seems to come hand in hand, that creeping sense that we somehow could have done more. Spent more time with them, valued them more, loved them more. You see it all the time - following loss people exhort each other "go home and hug your children!" As if they somehow could have staved off that sense of regret.

But I have news for them. Regret will always follow loss. We will never stop regretting that someone we loved died.

Because that's what it truly is. In the mire of emotion, we wrap it up with guilt and displace to thinking we somehow could have done something more. But really, it's just grief.

Which is why you should always feel free to tell your loved ones to bugger off while you're writing.

Seriously.

See, how you feel about them is how they feel about you. (If all is right in your world - if that's not the case, then you have other issues to deal with.) Writing is your art, your self-expression, your (hopefully) career. It takes A LOT of concentration. Most of us write because we need to. It feeds a part of us that would starve without it, like a manacled prisoner forgotten in the dungeon. Writing time is sacred.

If your loved ones love you, they won't encroach on it.

But they do, don't they? They encroach all the damn time.

This is because they forget. They're absorbed in *their* things and they forget not to encroach.

"Can I ask you just one question?" they'll ask, not realizing that by asking that question, they've already snapped you out of the trance.

"Oh, are you writing?" they say in a surprised tone, as if it's not your usual time and like they can't see you, tapping furiously on the keyboard.

So, how do you keep them from encroaching on your writing time? Remind them. Gently, lovingly, with all the affection in your heart for their foible that makes them think finding the stamps Right Now is the most important thing in the world.

Smile and say. "I'm writing right now."

"I'll find them when I'm done writing."

"I'll take a break in about an hour and I'll help you then. For now I can't talk to you."

Repeat as necessary.

Some people may require more forceful reminding - you know how to communicate with them best. Children and husbands, in particular, may ask you to demonstrate your love for them by placing them first. Instead, reverse it and ask them to demonstrate their love for you by giving you that time.

Repeat as necessary.

After all, the best way to stave off regret is to live life to its fullest extent. By devoting ourselves to our art, we're developing ourselves and contributing to the world. Adding joy and pleasure to the lives of others is no small thing. Our loved ones love that about us. It's part and parcel of who we are. They just have to be reminded, sometimes sternly, sometimes gently, always lovingly, that they need to bugger off and leave us alone when we're writing.

Repeat as necessary.