All the excuses
I’ve been listening to Elizabeth Gilbert’s podcast called Magic lessons (http://www.elizabethgilbert.com/magic-lessons/), where she has “creativity conversations” with and for people who are stuck in their creative lives. Elizabeth is the author of several books, including Eat, Pray, Love: One Woman’s Search for Everything Across, Italy, India and Indonesia (http://Eat, Pray, Love: One Woman’s Search for Everything Across Italy, India and Indonesia) and most recently Big Magic: Creative Living Beyond Fear (http://Big Magic: Creative Living Beyond Fear).
The two episodes I’ve listened to so far deal with making time in our lives to write, if that it what we want to do, and why it is so hard to carve out the time to do that. This really struck me, as I struggle so much making time to write, even though I want to, I say I will, I think I’m going to, and then I don’t. I read other people’s writing. I read books about writing. And then life gets in the way and I don’t write.
Here are my current excuses for not writing:
- We’re having some work done in our house and there are contractors at my house almost every day all day
- My kitchen is dirty
- My dogs need walking
- I have errands that I need to run
- I have a haircut/doctor’s appointment/something I need to pick up somewhere
- I’m working
- My house is a mess ( see first excuse regarding contractors)
- I’m out of town
- One of my kids needs something
- I’m going to the grocery store
- My parents need me to do something for them
- I need to go to the grocery store
I guess at some point I’m going to have to take myself seriously and actually schedule time in my day to write. For me, not for someone to read, although that’s nice too. Every writer I know that writes about writing, says you have to just do the thing. One of my favorite writers is Anne Lamott. Anne wrote a book called Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life. In Bird by Bird, Anne says two things that continue to impact me:
“Almost all good writing begins with terrible first efforts. You need to start somewhere.”
and
“But how?” my students ask. “How do you actually do it?”
You sit down, I say. You try to sit down at approximately the same time every day. This is how you train your unconscious to kick in for you creatively. So you sit down at, say, nine every morning, or ten every night. You put a piece of paper in the typewriter, or you turn on the computer and bring up the right file, and then you stare at it for an hour or so. You begin rocking, just a little at first, and then like a huge autistic child. You look at the ceiling, and over at the clock, yawn, and stare at the paper again. Then, with your fingers poised on the keyboard, you squint at an image that is forming in your mind — a scene, a locale, a character, whatever — and you try to quiet your mind so you can hear what that landscape or character has to say above the other voices in your mind.”
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I guess I keep hoping the pages will write themselves. I think the thoughts, and I think about writing them down, how I want to say them, the words I want to use. I worry too much about whether or not anyone even wants to read anything I write. I listen to the voice in my head that says “No one gives a crap.” And then a month goes by.
Maybe for you the issue isn’t writing. Maybe you want to paint or run a 5K or write songs or spend more time with your mother. What’s the one thing you’d do if you allowed yourself to take the time to do it? We all have the same 24 hours, and we know that if we want to do something bad enough, we find the time to do it. Ask my hunting husband. We make time for what we want to make time for. No excuses.
I’d love to hear from you if you’re willing to engage in the conversation.
What’s the one thing you’d do if you allowed yourself to take the time to do it?
photo credit Durley Beachbum
i would pursue my DSW. This degree is the clinical completion of social work education.
Do it Christy! If not now, one day, right?