I've found myself in a bit of a creative Sargasso. You see, I'm currently sharing accomodations with some people who, God love them, can be so annoying you want to smack them with a wet towel. People who cannot seem to understand the simplest concepts of privacy.
In this location, writing tends to be a bit of an annoying process. Despite my pleas, there there are various interruptions from people who can't seem to understand that writing is not like doing the dishes. You can't just stop, do something else, and come back in half an hour to pick up where you left off. For every interruption, for every delay, you lose material and ideas, which will never come back to you again.
When I am writing, I chafe at every delay. Each and every single interruption, even if only for a few moments while someone asks if I know where the TV remote control is, pisses me off to a huge degree. I have spoken to these individuals, and explained my feelings. And yet still, when I am writing, I am interrupted.
Why can't they understand even the simplest of concepts? If am I writing, don't talk to me unless it is an emergency. Do not knock on my door to tell me someone is on the phone for me. That’s why I bought a fucking answering machine. Do not ask me if I want a cup of tea. Do not remind me that tomorrow is garbage day. Just don’t fucking talk to me.
In fact, do not interrupt me unless my fucking cat is on fire (even then, you should try to put out the cat first, and if successful and the cat was only lightly singed, do you really need to bother me about it right now?).
So, when I found out about this apartment I'm hoping to get, I made myself a promise. I would not do any further work on my novel until I am in my new place. This might seem a bit extreme, but there was a reason apart from the annoyance factor.
In my novel, I have reached a point where I am unsure of what happens next. Everything I have written down thus far as been as a result of weeks of thought and planning before I sat down to write it. I find that I work best when I don't actively think about the work, but rather plot and plan subconsciously. I let things percolate and stew in my brain, and sooner or later I know it’s done, and I'm ready to start writing again.
Quite often, I dream of a perfect plot point, and wake up and hurriedly write down my notes before I lose the memories. Other times, I am doing something mundane (walking, driving, etc.) when an idea just comes to me, and I have to write it down or voice record it to make sure I don't forget.
So I am in one of those "building" phases. I do have ideas I could be writing, but I need to allow them to mix and mingle and process before putting them down on paper. Once I have moved, and I am afforded the inestimable luxury of privacy, I am sure it will be time to get back to the keyboard and start writing again.
In this location, writing tends to be a bit of an annoying process. Despite my pleas, there there are various interruptions from people who can't seem to understand that writing is not like doing the dishes. You can't just stop, do something else, and come back in half an hour to pick up where you left off. For every interruption, for every delay, you lose material and ideas, which will never come back to you again.
When I am writing, I chafe at every delay. Each and every single interruption, even if only for a few moments while someone asks if I know where the TV remote control is, pisses me off to a huge degree. I have spoken to these individuals, and explained my feelings. And yet still, when I am writing, I am interrupted.
Why can't they understand even the simplest of concepts? If am I writing, don't talk to me unless it is an emergency. Do not knock on my door to tell me someone is on the phone for me. That’s why I bought a fucking answering machine. Do not ask me if I want a cup of tea. Do not remind me that tomorrow is garbage day. Just don’t fucking talk to me.
In fact, do not interrupt me unless my fucking cat is on fire (even then, you should try to put out the cat first, and if successful and the cat was only lightly singed, do you really need to bother me about it right now?).
So, when I found out about this apartment I'm hoping to get, I made myself a promise. I would not do any further work on my novel until I am in my new place. This might seem a bit extreme, but there was a reason apart from the annoyance factor.
In my novel, I have reached a point where I am unsure of what happens next. Everything I have written down thus far as been as a result of weeks of thought and planning before I sat down to write it. I find that I work best when I don't actively think about the work, but rather plot and plan subconsciously. I let things percolate and stew in my brain, and sooner or later I know it’s done, and I'm ready to start writing again.
Quite often, I dream of a perfect plot point, and wake up and hurriedly write down my notes before I lose the memories. Other times, I am doing something mundane (walking, driving, etc.) when an idea just comes to me, and I have to write it down or voice record it to make sure I don't forget.
So I am in one of those "building" phases. I do have ideas I could be writing, but I need to allow them to mix and mingle and process before putting them down on paper. Once I have moved, and I am afforded the inestimable luxury of privacy, I am sure it will be time to get back to the keyboard and start writing again.
1 comment:
Good luck with finding your own place. I think that waiting to till you move into your apartment to start writing again is a smart move. When writing a novel it's quality not quantity, I should know, I've never written one:)
Cheers,
B
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