After becoming a parent it felt like I never had enough time. Writing and creativity took a back seat to sleeping and showering. And even showering took a backseat half the time. Then, years slipped by, and I was still putting my creativity on the back burner. I’d write in my journal sporadically but I’d given up hope of being a real writer. It seemed too challenging to try to create another world and immerse myself in it while constantly being interrupted by the real one over and over again.
But I think the strings teacher has it right. It’s ok to start with just five minutes and see where that leads. Maybe I don’t need hours and hours for something grandiose and perfect. Maybe I just need five minutes to get something down.
I’m practicing the practice of writing every day for a set period. Anne Lammot says it will train my subconscious to get to work if I keep doing it at the same time each day. Her subconscious is able to link crazy things like Jesus and Snakes on a Plane so it seems to be working for her. I just have to have faith that it will work for me too.
Julia Cameron says it’s my job to get it all down. It’s my job to worry about the quantity and God or the universe or something hanging around up there in the ethers will worry about the quality. Incidentally, I think God is slacking on his part and I should try to help him out a little by obsessing and ruminating on the topic while eating Dagwood-sized sandwiches. Just to be helpful. But instead, today, I set the timer for twenty minutes and started hacking away. Yes, it is obvious that I am doomed. But strangely, I don’t feel so bad about it. I did my part and that’s all I have to do today.