The Struggle Between My Words and the World’s
These last few weeks I’ve been immersed in the final edits of my novel. It’s the slow time for my gardening day job. I sit for two-hour-long chunks (or more) and I read and type words. This has been productive. I’ve lived in the world of my novel: Paris, plants, the people I’ve created. I hear nothing else except the dog barking occasionally, the hum of the heater blowing warmth in the room. I can concentrate, I can think, “No, ‘harsh, steady rain’ is better here because I used ‘downpour’…
The Elusive Rhythm of Writing Time
I write about 20 to 30 hours a week. The dedicated time helps me identify as a writer. You may know the phrase, whatever you spend time doing, that’s what you are. I also own a gardening business, which makes me a gardener. That business keeps me busy most days but I take weekends off. On the weekends, I do household chores and tend my own garden and spend time with my family and pets. But I’ve noticed a problem. When I’m away from writing for just a few days,…