Acrid

The child awoke, groggy for instant and then fully alert a moment later.  The sun-rise alarm had been the instigating factor, but now fully conscious, a connoisseur’s nose sampled the air. Ah yes. The faintest scent of acrid smoke wafting through the house. Not enough to set the alarms off, but sufficient to make it’s presence felt at unexpected moments through the day.

New Year, new term, same old burnt toast.

Wandering in to the kitchen, Dad was in full octopus mode: scraping burnt toast at the sink, pouring tea, making packed lunches, ticking things off and adding new items to the never ending to-do list.

“Hey kiddo! Sorry if I woke you.” He slathered a generous portion of the butter that had been bought for Christmas and duly forgotten about on the now only heavily singed toast and took a big bite – almost a quarter of the slice in one go. He passed the dish over, and deftly caught a couple of new slices as they popped up, lovely and golden. “Here you go” Dad mumbled, mouth slightly too full for good manners, “unless you want something else?”

“All good, Dad.” The child reached across for the knife and stared at the toaster. Who was it that always left the toaster turned up to high? And why did Dad always forget to check it in the morning.  Still pondering, the child opened the fridge door for the most important question of the day: strawberry jam or apricot conserve?

Abrupt

The awakening was abrupt, downright rude even.

A quick glance at the clock revealed that it was stupid o’clock – too early to get up, even by the standards of the new order that was to lead to a new you.

There were several reasons that might have brought about this sudden rejection of slumber. It was of course the first day of the year – the first proper day of the year, the bank holiday being a write-off…

Mind a-whirl with all to be done (tree down, tidy the house, get set up for the day, the week, the month, the year), things not to be done (wake the sleeping spouse, overthink…), it quickly became clear the reason for this early wakening: that last cup of tea at 10 pm the night before had been a mistake…

The new dilemma was therefore to try to get back to sleep or listen to the apparently full bladder. The bladder won. It usually did.

©David Jesson 2024

#secondthoughts: Writing routines

Like many of us time-crunched part-time writers, I do too much or, more accurately, I aim to fit too much into the time available. I’ve been trying to develop a writing routine in the belief this will ensure my writing doesn’t lose out when priorities are having to be made. Previously I made time for writing only when the muse struck me, and that seemed to be anywhere from 10pm to midnight.

I’m not going to pretend. I’d convinced myself that the later evening hours was when my muse came out to play and that – cue drama queen and much flouncing – if I didn’t write then, I’d never be able to write. All of which didn’t help when I’d changed my normal owl-like pattern for the lark-like pattern demanded by Himself’s job. And whilst I said I was doing it willingly, there was that aforementioned bit of drama queening going on; I think I may’ve quite enjoyed playing the martyr.

The thing is, as a Life Coach, I know only too well that once things become a habit, it becomes easier to ensure they get done. Taking the words of Somerset Maugham contained in the image above in mind, I’ve continued to work at figuring out what set time of day I could have for my writing routine and decided on a get up early and write before work routine.

This hasn’t worked too well as, on those days when I failed to get up early and write (which were often as I’m not a natural lark), I became despondent. And when I get despondent, I get down on myself and I tend not to try to write, even when finding myself with an unexpected bit of free time. Instead, I faff about on the internet, or do some cleaning, or … well, pretty much anything else actually. I put this down to that famed writer’s procrastination. But – in truth – it isn’t that at all.

It’s taken time, but I realise the wisdom I really needed was to be found in what Steven Pressfield tells us in “The War of Art” after the Somerset Maugham quote about inspiration striking …

“Maugham reckoned another, deeper truth: that by performing the mundane physical act of sitting down and starting to work, he set in motion a mysterious but infallible sequence of events that would produce inspiration.
He knew if he built it, she would come.”

Now, I’ve applied the nail-self-to-chair methodology successfully in order to meet the monthly #FF deadline here. Also, when writing our combined April A-Z story, there were constant deadlines to be met, so I simply sat down and wrote whenever I could. And guess what – almost none of those times were between 10pm and midnight.

I’ve been allowing my rotten mindset to get the better of me. The simple act of nailing myself to the chair and telling myself it’s time to get on and write … well, it works. I’ve a job to do – all I have to do is turn up and get it done.  It’s taken a long time to catch up with other wise writers, but lesson finally learned.

Of course maintaining the right mindset is vital. Seeking out time to write every day is what matters; conversely not beating myself up if there genuinely isn’t time, will allow me to maintain a positive mindset for the next day, and the day after, and so on. I’m grabbing on to this writing mindset rather than trying to hammer out a routine, because I believe it already works for me. Now I just need to apply it.

Sit down and write – rinse, repeat!


© Debra Carey, 2018