Just finish what needs to be done and leave the rest 'til tomorrow. This was one of the prompts from my online writing group this morning, and the only one that really struck a chord with me.

I so wish I could do this some days. I saw a Facebook posting a while back, a short vignette about a man who comes home to find his house is a disaster and fears something horrible has happened to his wife. When he finally finds her, she's in bed in her pyjamas, reading a novel. He asks her what happened, and she says “You know every day when you come home from work and you ask me what in the world do I do all day?” “Yes,” was his incredulous reply. She answered, “Well, today I didn't do it.” (Full story available here)

I've had an hour and a half of more or less uninterrupted time this afternoon. There have been dogs and small children wandering in and out of the office, but unless they've needed to use the bathroom, they've been summarily ejected back to their respective “quiet time” spots. I still have at least five loads of laundry to do, some dishes from lunch that I need to wash, the dogs need a walk, the van needs to be cleaned out (don't ask, you really don't want to know), and I need to find one stupid little piece of paper for our accountant (right, as if that's going to happen). Oh, and I still don't know what we're having for supper (but there's Naniamo bar defrosting on the kitchen counter, so at least dessert's taken care of). The guest bedroom looks like a bomb went off in it, and we have company coming Thursday morning. Oh, and soccer practices and games start this week. And when my husband gets home from work (and don't even get me started about why he's at the office on a Sunday) he'll surely ask me where “x” is, as if I've some kind of wizardly lost-object-finding power. *sigh*

I've seen what happens when I “leave the rest for tomorrow,” and it's not pretty. I was at a fitness industry conference and training session for three days last week, which meant my husband had to deal with the boys Friday evening and all day Saturday. I didn't do anything aside from the bare necessities (8-hour plus days of yoga training will do that to you). I'm *still* trying to get caught up, a week later.

But I am learning, at least to an extent. I actually had a nap yesterday, which I desperately needed ... and didn't feel guilty about starting supper at 5:30. I've taken time this afternoon to do some writing and have actually found the top of my desk. Now I'm off to make a pot of green tea, do some sun salutations, and continue on with my housework and cleaning. If you don't hear from me by supper time, be careful when you go searching ... the dust elephants may have carried me off!

Writing when you don't feel like it.

This is pretty much every day, in my life. That being said, I don't believe in writers block, per say. Is more like the well runs dry and it needs to be recharged in some way. Also, it's about showing up, about putting in effort even when you don't feel like it, even if all you're doing is grousing on the page about how much you don't feel like writing. Can you use that to your advantage, turn it into something you can use, somewhere, somehow? I think so, even if it's only capturing the frustration and encapsulating it for use later.

I long for the days of quiet, before kids, when the mornings were mine to do with as I pleased, and evenings were a leisurely affair. But the interesting thing is that I actually do more writing, and am mo productive, now. Go figure. I think it's because I force myself to do it, to make time for it, instead of waiting to write when everything was perfectly and my muse was whispering in dulcet tones in my ear. Now, my writing often feels utilitarian and fraught with interruptions, but these force me to focus, to jump headlong into a character’s head, rather than taking the time to prepare myself. If I don't grasp the time I have, seize the day (for lack of a better phrase), nothing gets written. I took an online writing course earlier in the year and was absurdly productive, despite the craziness going on around me. So I know I can do it, I just need to make sure that I make myself.

It’s not that I don't feel like writing, most days, honestly. It's that the day’s been crazy, I have what seems like a million things on my mind, lurking in the corners of my consciousness, and there's so much going on that I have a hard time focusing on anything, nevermind actually putting coherent words on the page. But I'm continually surprised by what I do manage to write when I'm feeling like this, if I can manage to put my butt in the chair and type out something, even if only a few meagre words.

But now, for example, the radio’s blaring, the kids are making random comments about the scenery, and I'm typing on my iPad (and fixing many typos) while we're driving into the city to pick up Dana's car and get groceries. My writing's not perfect, and it'll need editing, but it's words on the page, and that's what matters.m so the 25 or so minutes that I'd really be doing not much of anything turns into something that's at least quasi-productive, and is over 400 words more than I had when we left the house.