Partnering with a writer
I’ve noticed a few “What it’s like” blogs on “living with a writer” lately, whether that’s being married to one, dating one, or just being around one all the time. Allow me to jump on fun wagon as well.
First of all, if you’re with a writer (“with” equating to all the above arrangements), don’t fall for all that usual nonsense about them having to have complete and perfect quiet in order to work. You’ve heard how writers need to be great liars? Well, they’re lying about this, too, because not only are they never going to get the ideal calmness they think they need in order to excel, they probably know it and are only avoiding the inevitable. What they need is to learn how to function as a writer in the real world – the insanely noisy world that doesn’t care if you’re a writer.
So much of the world around us is either in chaos or is an agent of chaos. If you’re overly-sensitive enough, even the lovely little birdies inspiring your good mood as you stand on the back porch overlooking a field of sundrenched flowers will annoy you with their increased cacophony. The world is full of things destroying things in order to make new things. I once worked at a University that up and started campus improvements one morning that has yet to quit “improving” over a decade later, never a workday passing without the awful, detrimental sounds of diesel engines, trees being cut down, jack hammers, etc. And while that’s an extreme example provided by a group of disconnected leaders with zero empathy for students, faculty, and staff, it proves a point about having to live in a world that really doesn’t care much about what our romantic and artsy dreams might be.
Though a pleasurable pursuit, and delicious when we can get it, what a lot of writers are striving for is a romantic setting that enhances the aesthetic of writing, the absence of which is too good an excuse for doing anything other than what we supposedly love – writing. A view. Smelly (often expensive) candles. Artisan note paper lined up in OCD fashion on the corner of the antique Victorian desk. Perfect lighting. Coffee at the ideal temperature. Or maybe that expensive bourbon. Hell, I’d be worn out and too tired to write myself after arranging all that. Perhaps we should ask if we love writing as much as we love the idea of writing.
We all have our preferences, of course, and there are environmental extremes we should avoid in order to claim some sanity. Three screaming kids in the middle of the day with the TV going and the dryer and dishwasher rattling and music going along with scammers ringing the phone off the hook? Not ideal. Maybe when the kids are napping and all the machines are finished with the noise. Writing your bestselling poetry collection in the middle of an artillery barrage? Not ideal. Maybe afterward, when you get your heartrate down.
Rather than practicing your writing where it’s perfect, also practice writing a little everywhere. All the more reason to have a notebook with you everywhere you go. Write in a café, on a park bench, on the subway, on your bed, at your desk, on breaks at work, in the parking lot, at the beach, near the airport, in quiet, in chaos, and in the in-betweens which make up the most of our time in life.
Extremes be damned! Normalcy be welcomed! Write on!
I’ve noticed a few “What it’s like” blogs on “living with a writer” lately, whether that’s being married to one, dating one, or just being around one all the time. Allow me to jump on fun wagon as well.
First of all, if you’re with a writer (“with” equating to all the above arrangements), don’t fall for all that usual nonsense about them having to have complete and perfect quiet in order to work. You’ve heard how writers need to be great liars? Well, they’re lying about this, too, because not only are they never going to get the ideal calmness they think they need in order to excel, they probably know it and are only avoiding the inevitable. What they need is to learn how to function as a writer in the real world – the insanely noisy world that doesn’t care if you’re a writer.
So much of the world around us is either in chaos or is an agent of chaos. If you’re overly-sensitive enough, even the lovely little birdies inspiring your good mood as you stand on the back porch overlooking a field of sundrenched flowers will annoy you with their increased cacophony. The world is full of things destroying things in order to make new things. I once worked at a University that up and started campus improvements one morning that has yet to quit “improving” over a decade later, never a workday passing without the awful, detrimental sounds of diesel engines, trees being cut down, jack hammers, etc. And while that’s an extreme example provided by a group of disconnected leaders with zero empathy for students, faculty, and staff, it proves a point about having to live in a world that really doesn’t care much about what our romantic and artsy dreams might be.
Though a pleasurable pursuit, and delicious when we can get it, what a lot of writers are striving for is a romantic setting that enhances the aesthetic of writing, the absence of which is too good an excuse for doing anything other than what we supposedly love – writing. A view. Smelly (often expensive) candles. Artisan note paper lined up in OCD fashion on the corner of the antique Victorian desk. Perfect lighting. Coffee at the ideal temperature. Or maybe that expensive bourbon. Hell, I’d be worn out and too tired to write myself after arranging all that. Perhaps we should ask if we love writing as much as we love the idea of writing.
We all have our preferences, of course, and there are environmental extremes we should avoid in order to claim some sanity. Three screaming kids in the middle of the day with the TV going and the dryer and dishwasher rattling and music going along with scammers ringing the phone off the hook? Not ideal. Maybe when the kids are napping and all the machines are finished with the noise. Writing your bestselling poetry collection in the middle of an artillery barrage? Not ideal. Maybe afterward, when you get your heartrate down.
Rather than practicing your writing where it’s perfect, also practice writing a little everywhere. All the more reason to have a notebook with you everywhere you go. Write in a café, on a park bench, on the subway, on your bed, at your desk, on breaks at work, in the parking lot, at the beach, near the airport, in quiet, in chaos, and in the in-betweens which make up the most of our time in life.
Extremes be damned! Normalcy be welcomed! Write on!
