I have a great gaggle of friends whom I adore. We love to get together and share the latest happenings in our lives. Usually over coffee, lunch, dinner and occasionally at the gym. Now that I have decided to get my writing life in order and to finish the unfinished works, see new projects through and wade my way through the precarious worlds of blogging and ghosting I have to stick to a working schedule.
Most days it works. It keeps me disciplined. Plus I get to tick off my achievements on a new weekly print out of my schedule. Which is very satisfying indeed.
What is not satisfying is those nearest and dearest becoming miffed even scoffing at my new commitment. My friends have jobs some part and others fulltime that they dress in the morning for, that they attend throughout the day and return home to their own version of normality. I do not have that luxury. I work from home. I am either doing the books for our carpentry business or building my writing career.
In the background the washing machine is whirling, soon to be beeping demands to be emptied. Annie, my German Shepherd is snoring softly on the couch behind me. My office is a small metre square of kitchen space in our tiny timber frame house in Medina. A money saver while times are tough. I sometimes think I hear a scuttle of mice under my desk, that my no-kill methods of mice control are not working and our home is secretly infested. (probably not as I do mice-poo patrol every morning) Still I worry, I saw some once. I joke to friends that the mice were all eaten by the large caramel cockroaches that frequent our house when ever I let my guard down. How can a writer not write in this low-level garret?
No longer will I make myself available to ‘Do Lunch’ at a moments notice because someone is free, bored or has a day off. I can do dinner, weekends, an afternoon tea, yoga or a couple of mornings at the gym but otherwise I am busy working. It does not matter what I am working on or that so far my writing income has only reached double digits. I am working.
Dear writing friends, how do you stick your guns, your schedule, your dreams? When so many people around you are already at their ‘grown up’ jobs how do you stay on track when it is all to easy to let everyday tasks devour your time?
I am guessing one day at a time?