It’s the same thing day in and day out. I really don’t mind, not one bit. Matter of fact, if something happens, I get antsy, become a clock watcher, wondering when I can retreat back to my hidey hole, yet not look like a clod.
To clarify, I’m talking about my daily writing schedule, of which I’m insanely protective. The days generally go something like this:
- Up at 6:00 a.m, Put on choice of workout clothing (yoga M, T, W, F) and running (T, Th Sa).
- Brush teeth, wash face, make up bed, get “puppy.” (not really a puppy, but tiny enough to be one & he sleeps in a playpen)
- Go outside so “puppy” can do business
- Drink 1st cup of coffee, watch news, feed puppy, see hubby off to work
- Work out till 8:00
- Shower, dress, eat
- Upstairs by 9:00 to write – only breaking when puppy looks downright pitiful
- Back upstairs to write till puppy looks pitiful again and this in/out thing goes on until 5:00
- 5:00 p.m. go back downstairs, puppy is ecstatic to be out of writing prison and playfully frolics around feet that head to refrigerator to grab a beer
So, in other words, I spend most of my days writing, EVERY day.
I’m not sure anyone really understands – except other writers. For example, I call my mother every Sunday and she always asks, “so, what’s on your agenda today?” like I might tell her I’m going cliff diving, or off to extract venom from a poisonous snake. I stare at the receiver in my hand, put it back to my ear in time to hear her say, “write?” Well, uh, yeah. I do try to be aware of family time. I make sure I’m involved and conversational whenever we visit, even though I tend to sneak peeks at the clock, or zone out if I think of something to add to the current WIP.
Lots of people might think keeping a schedule like this is tiresome, hideously boring (many of you probably fell asleep while reading the list above.) but I’m pretty sure I’m not the only writer committed to a seven days a week writing schedule. Even the suggestion of an unplanned trip to the grocery store could potentially ruin the rhythm.
I suppose I have no life to speak of. Actually, I absolutely know that when I look at FB every now and then, only to see all sorts of exciting summer things others are doing. Zip lining, white water rafting, kayaking, mountain climbing, surfing, knee boarding, skiing. In those moments I realize I’m definitely living in Dullsville.
Yet, I don’t mind it at all. I believe the time spent will be worth it one day and the grinding work ethic I’ve established with little, if any, guilt, will pay off. I’m happy, contented, and besides, even if I were hang gliding off of one of the Dunes at the Outer Banks, guess what I’d be doing. Thinking about writing. Well, that and praying that I land safely.
What about you? Is your life as boring as mine because of your writing?