The Curse of Too Much Writing Time

This summer I’ve learned some hard things about myself: Even when I have open time I *can’t* write all day. Moreover, I find a million stupid things to do to distract myself from writing at all. I will not admit the number of games of computer solitaire I have played–the most insipid and useless way of wasting time. It’s all about avoiding that terror of emptiness–whether it’s the blank page or the blankness of too much time. This week has been a little bit easier, because I’ve spent the mornings taking my son to driver’s ed. Having a schedule again has provided the benefits of getting me up and moving, as well as three hours of enforced time in coffee shops, after which I give myself total permission to quit writing for the day. I’m glad I’m sliding into this routine at the end of summer, because it’s helping me feel better about the transition back to teaching. Strange as it sounds, I need not only structure to function, but also distraction–not the immediate distraction of loud music or phone calls, but the long-term distraction of having other things to do and think about, so that writing becomes precious, rather than an obligation.

So the trick now, as it always is in fall, will be how to balance my right brain life (writing) and my left brain life (teaching), not to mention the schedule dance of shlepping my son to music lessons across the state (it will be a while before he gets his license) and the countless other requirements of family life. And I’ve also learned that my brain (or my soul, or both) needs something new from time to time to jazz it. I’ve been a compulsive dabbler all my life, and at 51, most of the things I’ve dabbled in over the years seem old hat. But life without a passion creates passionless writing, so I’ll have to squeeze in a Spanish class, to keep up what I learned in Guatemala, or a community chorus or something to feed the muse.

I guarantee this: in two weeks I will not be complaining about too much empty time. I’ll read back on this entry and think I was nuts to even think this way.