At some point in the last few months, I have branched out from calling myself a stay-at-home-Mum, and am now, somewhat awkwardly, also referring to myself as a starting-out-writer.
The hardest part about being a stay-at-home-starting-out-writer, is that there is no one to crack the whip. There are self set deadlines, but there are all manner of distractions that lead me into temptation and away from my daily targets.
I am, at the moment, concentrating on my creative writing. But there are all kinds of things I will press pause in my writing to discover and dither over.
My end goal of finishing which ever piece of work I am attempting to draft is achieved while tiptoeing through a mine field of things that seem fascinating at the time.
Here are the main ones at the moment…
It takes me far too long to pick names for my characters. It is probably a good thing I found a passion for writing, as otherwise I may have had to open my womb up for further procreation, and would have ended up with a further 25 children, will all manner of moniker.
At the moment I am writing a character who, along with her brothers and sisters, are blessed with wonderfully hippie names. I’ve called her Breeze, which I think is a fabulous match for her personality. Her eldest brother’s name is Lennon, then follows Moon, Star and Harmony.
I love names. Even the ones I would never be brave enough to use, or my husband would never be brave (he might say silly) enough to let me choose!
Picking names is one of those writing indulgences I do enjoy, it just takes up a fair bit of my time!
On a good writing day, I am often hungry. On a bad writing day, I might not be very hungry, yet I will find myself transported, by the invisible pantry forces, from the sanctimonious writing seat, to the space between the pantry doors, where I will investigate what sustenance sources are available.
The first time I find myself rising in search of something to nibble, I force myself to be healthy and have a banana. Aren’t bananas great? They really are full of everything wonderful, magnesium, potassium, vitamin B and C… so that one can feel very virtuous having eaten one.
And subsequently when I return for another food forage an hour later, I am able to partake of eating marshmallows or chocolate buttons from the baking jar, or ginger crunch.
Lately it’s handfuls of sultana bran buds. They are little square bites of breakfast cereal, which have the heart tick, so I can pretend they are not substitute biscuits and can eat them by the handful. Then another handful. Then another. Then… well, you know where I’m going. And, the box says they are ‘high in fibre.’ So I can feel better about that too.
Especially on Mondays and Fridays. Monday mornings are often an internal struggle, where by I try to justify constantly finding myself back on the facebooks or the instagrams or the twitters, because I’m catching up on the weekend, and getting ‘up-to-date’ for the week ahead.
The fact that I am getting up to date on the photo Taylor Swift has taken of her cat, or I’m snorting over the latest funny quote someone has put on their wall, does not matter. It’s all valuable information, needed to help settle me into the writing week ahead.
As for Fridays, well, it’s Friday. That’s what Friday is for. I do not have a tea room or a morning tea shout, or a collection of co-workers to stand around the water cooler and debrief each other’s bad hair cut, the hilarious episode of Miranda last night, or how brave I am for going to the dentist. So while the worldly workers leave their homes on Friday mornings, and extend their tea break a little longer than usual, so do I! I potter at a slower pace on Friday. I give myself a proper lunch break, sometimes I even turn on the tele and watch a bit of that Doctor Oz bloke! Or I read a chapter of my book, or I sit in the conservatory and play Nana-naps. It’s a lovely game where one lolls around on a chair in the sunshine, wearing a pink sun hat, and dozes on and off for a wee bit before the school assembly and kid collecting happens!
Question time in Parliament is a distraction of large proportions. I don’t actually listen to it live, it’s far too frustrating. I tire of the name calling, the ridiculous round-about ways of trying to say something without actually saying something, which leaves me very annoyed at the disinterested, lazy, buffoon who somehow got elected to represent the people of New Zealand. That, and Tony Ryall wears so many stripes it gives me a headache.
The thing I do love though, is following the #NZQT hash-tag on the twitters. There are some excellent people on the twitters, who do listen to Question time, and the humorous and entertaining ways they report back to the wider population on the matters that really count, like how many psfffsssttt noises John Key has made, or which politician is perfecting their death stare, or has been “owned” by another, makes me smile.
I can skim over the ridiculous self-serving patsy questions, and if there is something meaty happening in the house, I can come back to #NZQT after I have picked the kids up and seen to their afternoon tea needs, and pick up where I left off!
It has been such a mighty summer. Day after day of lovely warm weather, blue sky, and minimal cicada’s – which lets face it, can ruin a person’s morning when they are brought in half dead by a cat who thinks under the dining room table is the altar on which she needs to drop her sacrifices.
My desk faces the wall. This is a good thing. It is in a shady spot, which is good because I can always see the computer screen.
But behind my back, the deck is bathed in sun, the conservatory beckons for me to take my cold tootsies and warm them on the sun-bathed tiles.
It takes human strength on those super lovely summer days, not to pack it all in and loll about with a good book and a cheese sandwich, soaking up the good weather.
Honestly folks, it’s a wonder I ever manage to write anything!