Dear Jessica Brennan,
I don’t know if you will ever want to write a book. I’m not sure it’s really your thing, but in case you ever decide to take one on, here is my process.
Let me preface this by saying that I would never survive a day if I were managing me, which is a problem, because I am.
When writing a book, a lot of quiet time is required, so the very first thing I do is inform Dad well in advance. “I will be writing this Saturday and Sunday, so don’t make any plans.” Over the years, Dad has learned wisely not to comment on my process.
Here’s how it goes:
Saturday morning I get up. I’m going to write, oh no I feel anxious. Well, I will just do the crossword puzzle over a cup of tea with Dad to calm myself down.
Crossword puzzle is done, so I need to find the laptop, but on the way I see the laundry basket. I know I can throw a load in to wash while I write. That’s a good use of time. Downstairs I go to the laundry. Oh, no the litter. We didn’t change the litter. Better do that.
Guilt sets in.
I should be writing.
The kitchen looks pretty clean except that mug in the sink. I will just throw it in the dishwasher. The dishwasher is full. I need to run it, but not until the laundry is washed. I should be writing.
Guilt.
Dad comes in to see if I want to go outside with him. No I don’t! I need to write! He looks dubious. Outside he goes with another crossword puzzle. I think the laundry is almost done. I will get the laptop. Who’s that on Facebook?
Guilt.
Don’t do it Sharon.
Guilt.
Just for a minute. 10 minutes, 20 minutes an hour. Better start the dishwasher. It’s 2pm! How did it get to be 2:00pm? I need to write.
Guilt.
Laundry goes in dryer, and next load goes in washer. Dad comes inside. Looks at me, says nothing and goes to the relative safety of his studio. Dave Nolan calls. Do we want to meet up this afternoon? We might as well, the day’s almost gone anyway. I will write tomorrow.
Guilt.
Sunday morning I sleep in. I need to get up and write!
Guilt.
I love the Sunday crossword puzzle though, so let’s do that first. It’s noon. Good grief I need to write.
Guilt.
Dad asks if I want to go to look at the Bentley’s on the car lot? The what? No! Haven’t you been listening to me? I need to write. Sheesh. No respect for what I need to do. Now I’m irked. Honestly he just doesn’t get it.
Dad says nothing and returns to the relative safety of his studio.
Guilt.
By about 5pm on Sunday after answering email, texting every friend I know and watching stupid videos I don’t even like, I’m actually sitting with my Scrivener Writing Software open and ready to go.
I start to write. I write and write and write, like I will never stop. Sun goes down. I write. About 10pm Dad comes upstairs. He walks into the dining room where I’m sitting. He has the same expression on his face that Simon’s Cat gets when he wants to be fed. “I’m writing”, I tell him. He goes and sits in the family room on the couch and waits. He doesn’t dare turn on the TV.
Guilt.
I stop.
The great Dorothy Parker said, “If you have any young friends who aspire to become writers, the second greatest favor you can do them is to present them with copies of The Elements of Style. The first greatest, of course, is to shoot them now, while they’re happy.”
I understand this perfectly.
Love Mum xo
