The gift of no time
I remember in college one of my writing instructors asked how we all stayed motivated and managed to churn out our writing assignments. The most common answer was a shrug, and “Well, I had to turn the story in the next day so…you know.”
I think I work best under a deadline. And not only a deadline, but in busy seasons, where there are dinners to be made and babies to cuddle and libraries needing tending. When I only have one or two hours a few times a week to sit down and write, it forces me to honor those times, to fill them up with sweat and tears. I don’t have time for writer’s block. I don’t have time to sit and ponder the next scene. I just have to roll up my sleeves and work. And even though I dream about the day when my writing can support my family and I won’t need a day (or night and weekend) job, I know that I will have to adjust to having so much time to write. I’ll have to adjust to freedom. Because right now, the gift of no time is what forces me to work, to put my nose to the grindstone, even when I’m tired or sick or depressed or happy or want to curl up with a beer and my DVR.