Another unproductive day. I’m stymied. Most days I can shut out the
outside world and write. Other days – like today – I can’t seem to get into it.
My brain is surging with deadlines and that’s always counter-productive for me.
To break out of this – I won’t call it a block, but it’s close – I need
to go somewhere unfamiliar. Leave behind the distractions like my wilting pots
of flowers choking for a drink, my dishwasher begging to be emptied, the
thawing meat waiting to be cooked into a sumptuous dinner.
Yesterday I cleaned the house. Aside from vacuuming, I even damp mopped my floors and dusted. Oh,
and I did the laundry and put everything away – the same day. With the house in
order, I thought I’d be able to concentrate on my writing. Not quite. Could you
give me a hand tomorrow morning, my husband asked? Did he hear my inward groan?
Yes, of course, I said. The deadline dates pinged off the inside of my
forehead. My stomach cramped with guilt. It didn’t matter if I said yes or no. I’d
either feel the guilt for not helping my husband or for not writing.
First thing this morning I had to go to the gym in town. The workout was
too important to miss if you know what I mean. When I returned, I had a long and enjoyable phone chat with a friend who is going away for a month. Then it was
close to lunchtime. My husband usually grabs a quick snack for himself during
the day but I thought I’d make a hot lunch for both of us. I promised myself I
would go straight to the office following the kitchen cleanup.
And so now here I am, writing about why I can’t accomplish anything
with my writing these days.
A year or two ago, friends gave me permission to use their place while
they were away on holiday. It was an amazing experience. I stayed for days at a
time. Writing and sleeping and eating. A late afternoon glass of cabernet
sauvignon with cheese and crackers and then back at it. No distractions. No obligations.
A sleeping bag on the couch (my choice), the use of their kitchen for coffee,
bagels, ready-made salads, and frozen pizza. It was amazing the amount of
quality work I accomplished.
I’m not the only writer who finds it hard to constantly work from home
and maintain a fresh outlook. Others have sought refuge in coffee shops, hotel
lobbies, and libraries. It’s the change of scene and abandonment of all home
responsibilities that open the floodgates of creativity.
I imagine an isolated cabin or a tenth storey apartment – just me and
my computer. And my food and coffee, of course. And wine. Renting a cottage is
not in my budget. A cheap hotel room? No, I don’t think so.
Think I’ll take a nap and maybe do some proofreading before it’s time
to make supper.
Tomorrow is a new day. I’ll be back at the computer first thing in the
morning…er, afternoon.