“You work harder than most people I know.”
Somebody posted that in my comments a few days ago. Actually, I’d written a thinks to do list upon which I’d posted about seven things I’d already done, and another five or six that needed doing, and she said, “You know what’s cool about being a successful writer like you? You have this easy schedule, can do your own thing, you’re your own boss…” and then followed it with the ‘you work harder’ line. I don’t usually think I do–it’s just that I make lists of what I need to do and post them publicly whereas most people are doing their jobs at work and have a totally different structure than I do–but today, as I delivered the proposal for the fifth Walker Papers book and found myself contemplating a weekend, it did occur to me that most people at least *have* weekends regularly. I’m terrible at taking them.
This is a problem for anybody who works at home. It’s hard to leave the office behind when the office is at the house, or when emails, both personal and professional, come to the same address. It’s hard when *all* your work, whether committing fiction or networking is done at a computer (and no doubt made more complicated still when significant socialization happens at the computer, too). For at least a couple of years now I’ve been dreaming of a time when I could create a so-called normal schedule for myself, one that involved working five days a week and having two days off. (Or 4 days a week, with 3 off! no point in being your own boss, etc, right?)
I suspect the reality of the situation–even if I would stop overloading myself with projects–is that for me as a writer, it wouldn’t work that way. As it is even now, I’ll often go for several weeks without writing (although not without *working*: there’s an awful lot of this job that’s definitely work without being butt-in-chair committing fiction) and when I start writing a book I do it All The Time. And I find myself torn on that.
On one hand, if you don’t skip any days of writing, you don’t lose the narrative thread. On the other hand, if you don’t skip any days of writing, you get to this stage of wide-eyed vacant staring horror of the keyboard. (Or at least I do. This may be a result of too many years of too many deadlines.) So how, exactly, can this balance out? It doesn’t balance as nicely as it should, with weeks of actual total Time Off when I’m not writing a book, because I’ve got emails to answer from my editors, comic book material to organize, a looming awareness of upcoming deadlines…and so there’s never *really* the down time that you can get a bit more easily if you have an out-of-house job*.
So do other people handle this better than I do? I rather have the idea that the answer is ‘no’, but I’m all curious now!
*Trust me, I’m not kidding myself–I know how much effort goes into trying to organize the *rest* of one’s life around stable work hours…but even if you’re frantically getting other things done, it’s usually not *work* hanging over your head in the off-hours….
>>On the other hand, if you don’t skip any days of writing, you get to this stage of wide-eyed vacant staring horror of the keyboard. (Or at least I do. This may be a result of too many years of too many deadlines.)
Catie, once a year there is Zombie week, with writers writing about zombies. I never took part because I’ve seen the zombie look in my own eyes way too many times to appreaciate the opportunity for zombie fiction. For me it is the stress. I zombie-out often.
I totally know what you mean about needing to balance out a life. For too many years I worked an average of 94 hours a week: 34 hours on the graveyard shift at the hospital lab, 30 hours on Mystery Writers of America national and reginal boards and presidency, and 30 hours of writing, with volunteer work fitted into the open moments. I was a basket case. Hurt my health significantly. I decided to change my life and rest more.
So, when I quit the MWA boards, quit volunteer work, and moved to regular human hours, did I rest? No. I accepted a contract for two books a year instead of the one I had been doing, started blogging, started writing magazine articles, and filled the rest-time with work. The only good thing I did was take up swift-water kayaking as research for a book. Fell in love it. Now the only time I take off and really rest is on a river, bounding down some Class IIs and IIIs.
I tend to think that part of our writer psyche is to work all the time, but maybe that is my excuse to myself. I know Misty and David do far better than I at balancing things out. I know other writers who do it well too — Kim Harrison, Mignon Ballard, Tamar Myers, all handle living with better balance than I. Yet — that said, I am learning to smell the roses and paddling is a first step.
Ick. This turned into a monologue when I should be resting.
Tick-a-lock.
Faith
I think that my inherent laziness actually helps me in this regard. I love my job, but I don’t want to work all the time. So I don’t. I use Nancy and girls as excuses to justify my down time, but really I just like to do other things. After fourteen years of this I have managed to find a balance. I don’t turn out as many books as I’d like, but I do have a very nice life. Choices.