The writer’s work/life what?

There’s always something!

This year is panning out to be a pretty rubbish writing year! I had successfully managed to firmly reattach my derrière to my writing chair, but then life – again – happened…

Hubby broke his shoulder cycling (surgery plus six weeks in a sling), then daughter sprained her wrist playing football and is wearing one of these velcro straps things that apparently renders her incapable of motion.

To top it all, we’re having our only bathroom redone.

So I have become nurse, taxi and project manager… My writing career is more than likely over.

That is the problem with working from home without outside deadlines: it’s hard to have your work taken seriously.

Someone else’s need is always more imperious, because after all, ‘you can do your writing tonight’… when everyone else is calling it a day and no longer needs you for anything.

Fortunately for me, I do work well in the evenings, and I’ve been known to pull all-nighters when inspiration strikes. Still, I don’t think this is how the needle of my work/life balance should settle.

Prioritising the inner world

I have only myself to blame though. Out of my frustration, I must distil a new set of priorities, and

capture some of the single-mindedness that those constrained by the corporate world or the needs of their clients seem to find so easy to muster.

Many prolific artists were fantastically self-absorbed – think Bach or Picasso… and I’m sure that is still the recipe for productivity.

Working hard isn’t enough, you have to block out the needs of the outside world to focus on the needs of your creation.

I can’t quite give myself permission to go inside my cave and leave the world (and my one-armed family) behind, but most days, the temptation is very clearly there!

O, to be a recluse for the cause of Fiction…

With a wink and a sigh of resignation,

Florence 

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