I’ve been spoiled this last year, staying home every day, taking my daughter to the bus, playing with her when she was home, writing all day when she wasn’t. Breakfast whenever I wanted. Read paperbacks on the screened in porch.
Yep, spoiled rotten.
I both loved, and hated it. Me and too much time at my disposal to think wasn’t all good times. I grew stale, mentally out of shape.
Now that I’ve finally landed a busy, stressful job, I worried how that would effect my desire to write. Could I still find the time? Would I be too tired even if I could? Would my muse get right ticked off with me and leave me for a younger, friskier model? Knowing him as intimately as I do, I didn’t put it past him.
As it turns out, I’m writing about as much per day now as I did when I was home. Weird, right? I still have days when I can’t write, and others where two thousand words spill out like water from a tap. And somehow, I feel better about what I accomplish, even if it’s only a few hundred words.
Two reasons. First, because I have no time to fret about those times when I can’t write. Sometimes, when I was at home with hours of quiet at my disposal, I couldn’t write a word. Frustrating as hell! Guilt chewed at me, that I could have accomplished so much, but the muse is fickle and won’t be coerced into doing anything he doesn’t want to.
Second, because having to be “on” all day, concentrating on tasks, organizing myself and a bustling office, my mental stamina is getting a proper workout and on the days when I CAN jot something down, it’s typically better than I expected from myself. And for those of you who know me well, I expect a crap ton from myself.
Now that I go to work every day and occupy my mind with other tasks, I can come home, play with my wee one and still have a good three hours to write. If I can’t write a word, so be it. I go off and assemble the next chapter in my head, guilt free. So I skip a day here and there–I worked all day, it’s going to happen–so be it.
So far, it’s working for me. Though, add in a house to prep for selling, house hunting and moving this summer, and those precious few hours are going to dwindle. In the end, our lives will be all the better for it, and I’ll have even more spare time once our commutes are gone.
How do you balance work and your passion? For those not lucky enough to work at their passion.