Writing Time (DOG EAR)

Writing Time (DOG EAR)

Sunday was an op session, and then Downton Abbey in the evening.

Monday, work and then the train club bi-laws committee way, way over on the other side of town. And then over to the club to work building flats in Jacksonville and fuss with an alarm test way too late. Also, a fan wanted to see a sample of an unpublished book, so I had to prep that up and post it.

Tuesday, ordinarily my night off, the parents are in town for diner so it’s work, then way, way over to the other side of town again.  If there is any time after I get home, my best friend and I usually talk about our computer game effort.

Wednesday, work again, then way, way over to the train club. Gotta stage for ops and do some scenery work. That will go on til midnight.

Thursday, another free evening but no, wait, it’s Valentine’s Day. Thanks, Hallmark, for that one.

And Friday, it’s pizza night and relax with the sweety.

Saturday, I’m going to run on the Allentown RR way down Plant City way…

You getting this?

Time. Never enough, and certainly not for writers. Writers are imagined to sit in front of their typewriters with buckets of unallocated time sloshing around. After a leisurely writing session, the afternoon walk, the deliberate packing of a pipe, the petting of the dog, all the time in the world.

But for real world writers, those trying to get a novel done amid the errands and appointments and interruptive “Can I bother you with a quick question…?”s, it’s hard. Finding enough time to sit down, remember where we were, the mood and pacing of where we left off, then pick that up and run with it, then bring it to a stop, that’s not writing. It’s drag racing.

The trick, as a writer, is to make that time. In the morning when all the interruptions are asleep. In the late evening, with a lock set on the den door. Or, like me, out on the patio at work for a quick lunch hour of keyboard clatter. One need to discipline oneself to writing, a quick burst of activity and a sudden stop (with no cooling walk and packing of pipe) to end it with. It’s our world, and we have to make it work.

It’s the only way we’ll ever get anything done.

Incidentally: This blog? Written during a slow meeting at work and emailed home. See?