I am currently doing one of those very mundane things that writers have to do every now and again: looking at my planner and scheduling in when to write. I adore being busy-- it gives me a rich life and so many writing subjects, too. But sometimes all this business gets in the way of actually processing my thoughts and ideas and writing them down. For example, on Tuesday, I got up early, wrote a press release, went to a string of meetings for my second job as a publicist for a theater company, booked it to the Twain House, went back to Hartford at 5:30 to have a drink with a friend who needs support, went to a 3 hour improv rehearsal, got home and passed out. Wednesday was 6 AM exercising, Mark Twain House & then seeing the play of Tom Sawyer at Hartford Stage, and Thursday I stayed late to run a book club and then booked it to another improv rehearsal. Tonight I'm seeing another friend's play and having dinner with another friend. Tomorrow I'm seeing yet ANOTHER play and Sunday I'm performing in a mother's day improv show.
When the hell am I supposed to be privately creative instead of publicly?
One result of all this insane running around is that work has become a kind of haven. I actually do a ton of writing and thinking about writing for both of my jobs. I write letters to editors, pitch longer pieces, review biographies, and brainstorm new stuff. There isn't too much time for quiet thinking but at least I'm engaging a lively part of my brain.
Now, though, I have this fellowship and I have promised that I will use the money to isolate myself and write. Ha. Next weekend: 6 hour hike, poetry slam, 2 improv shows; the following my sister's graduation; the following my cousin's wedding; the following my college reunion; the following a huge Twain event I'm running; the following visiting friends; the following an improv festival; the following July 4th.
So here I vow: I will still write. I will still make the time. Beginning tomorrow, Saturday, at 6 AM. And I feel great about that.