Today has been a day from my nightmares - the kind of day where you spend most of it on the internet or the phone, trying to get quotes and contact people, waiting for them to call back, sweating over time running out and builder's deadlines ... don't ever try to build your own house! Did I get any writing done? I was determined to squeeze in a poem, one from the daily prompt at Poetic Asides (Writer's Digest). OK, it wasn't the greatest poem but at least I have something to show for the day that isn't a scaffold or a piece of wood or a drill bit.
And I shouldn't get too upset because, since we're on mid-semester break, I did, earlier in the week, get a final polish done on a manuscript and finished the Teacher's Notes for my Hong Kong textbook on writing short stories.
Over Easter, I would normally be enjoying time to read and write, but - you guessed it - I will be house building. Not much writing gets done up a ladder with a drill, not even much thinking about writing, unless I want a hole through my hand. But there will be times when I won't be doing any of that, and I want to fill those spare snippets of time with writing, if I can.
It'd be easy to say I'm too busy, that I deserve to just chill out when I'm not lugging timber around. But to me that would feel like such a waste of four days! I have a novel that I really need to start reworking, and a verse novel that needs a heap more thinking and planning before I can add more poems. If I don't do it this weekend, when will I do it? Robin Hobb, the fantasy writer, was at a Con in Melbourne a few years ago, and she said, "You will never have more time to write than now." It's about making the most of the quiet times, choosing to write instead of a million other things.
Now where did I put that hammer? I mean, that pen?