Work for me is writing my novel. Some people get up every morning, shower, have breakfast, then drive or take transit to a workplace, where presumably someone pays them to complete designated work over a period of time one to five days a week.
I, on the other hand, get up every morning, do some form of exercise (walk, run, or cycle), usually shower afterward, eat breakfast (while I read The Vancouver Sun), perform a series of stretches for my wrist (while I continue to recover from breaking my left arm in mid-September), then get down to work. I mostly work at home, my hours are variable, and no one pays me to do what I do. Not yet, anyway.
I’ll admit the only thing worse than getting to work every day is getting back to work after several days off. Many writers will tell you, once they start a big project, like a novel, they don’t take breaks–not even on weekends. They recommend that, to keep the momentum going on projects, you should work seven-days-a-week, either writing a certain number of words (if working on a first draft), or putting in a certain number of hours. Only then should you take time off to complete other tasks.
I see the wisdom in that approach. I really do. Sometimes, if I’ve had a good week of writing, by the time Friday arrives, I don’t want to break for the weekend. I want to keep going, right through Saturday and Sunday. Everything is fresh in my mind–what my characters are doing, what I’m trying to accomplish with that particular structure or technique–and to take a break, even for only two days, will throw me back. Come Monday, I’ll wonder where I was, and I’ll struggle to get there again. By the end of the next week, I still might not be there.
Still, other weeks, I need the break. Things didn't go well. Every day was a struggle. The words didn’t come. No matter what I tried, I couldn’t get there. I couldn’t figure out why this didn’t work. I sat and stared at it for hours, tinkered with different things, and, still, it didn’t work. That’s when I’m grateful for Friday, just like everyone, and I welcome the break. Maybe by Monday, my head will be clearer, and I’ll have a better idea of what I need to do to get through this rough part and move on (usually, that’s exactly the case).
Starting is the hardest part, particularly when you’re a writer. I can find a million different things I’d rather do than sit my ass down, open the file I last worked on, and start again. Everything else looks better than facing that page, those words. Even vacuuming, which I HATE to do.
Sometimes, after I’ve taken a break–as I did during Christmas, for five glorious days–I look forward to starting again. I know once I return to a favorite place to write–in this case, the Silent Study Room at our public library–and set myself up, I’ll be ready, and I’ll make sure no mental obstacles get in the way.
That’s what happened yesterday. I opened my MacBook, then StoryMill, then Chapter Twelve, Scene One…and I was off. Before I knew it, several hours had passed, and it was time to go home. The longer you work on a big project, committing to it every chance you get, building a routine around doing it, and keeping your passion toward it sizzling, the easier it is to keep working on it, day after day. And the easier it is to get back to it after you’ve taken a break. In fact, you want to get back to it, because it’s only when you’re working on it that you feel fully alive.
I’ve tried to make several points in this post, but, to me, the most important one is this:
Some years ago, a mutual acquaintance of Chris and mine said that an artist–in this case, a writer–couldn’t have a life partner and a career. Too many things would compete for his time, and, in the end, the partner would get it all, preventing the artist from doing his life’s work. In other words, an artist can be married to only one thing: his partner or his work. Take your pick.
I balked at that. At the time, I’d just met Chris, and I was crazy in love with him (as I still am over twenty-two years later). I was working full-time for a major financial institution in Canada, and the idea of being a writer, although something I’d had in my mind since I was a little boy, had remained just that. I’d had no time to follow through on it–I worked for a living, and I had a new relationship to nurture. Writing would come later. I didn’t know when, I just knew it would.
But I remember saying to myself at the time, I’ll make it work. At some point in the future, I will be a serious writer, and I won’t have to sacrifice my relationship in the process. I’ll be a writer on my own terms, and I’ll have it all: a great relationship with a wonderful man, and a writing career. You just wait and see.
So, yes, taking breaks, like the one I just did, set my writing schedule back. They always do. But my priority will always be my relationship. And, if Chris is off work, I’m off work, because I want to spend as much time with him as I can, even if we do nothing together. One day, he won’t be there anymore, and I don’t want any regrets that I wasn’t with him when I had the chance.
The trick for me is to get back to work right away after Chris returns to work himself, and to get myself up to speed as quickly as possible. That’s what I did yesterday, and that’s what I will continue to do any time I take a break in my work, just so I never have to make the choice between having a relationship and having a writing career.
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