Big Old Hunk of Time
Every writer I know wants big chunks of time in which to work. I’m off teaching for the summer, and then some–I have time now. And, as I’ve suspected, time is good but it is not everything! It’s not exactly what is needed. When I have a whole big giant Tuesday or a freckled loamy looming Saturday ALL HOURS FREE FOR WRITING I tend to falter, freefall, get cranky, and lose my way completely. I want more time when I don’t have it. What IS this all about?
Resistance.
You have to have something to push against, I think. It’s a Capulet thing.
So, I’ve spent this week with Tons O Time getting very, very little forward movement on my project–I’m writing about the same amount as when I have two hours in the early early mornings and a full teaching load. (Comparing myself to some other professors, but not all, this whole Sabbatical Choke is very common.)
Today, I invented a new way of working. It’s called One Hour At a Time. At the top of the hour I eat almonds. Make tea. Serve more almonds. Get very very clear about just what it is I will accomplish in this hour. (This is the hardest part, drawing a little square around the work, and going in to that spot super focused.) I pretend that’s all I have: one hour. I am better able to get out of time when I have less time. Time focuses us. But it can also swallow us whole.
Time isn’t the thing.
Getting out of time–losing track of it–that’s what we are after and it’s harder when you have Big Time–it’s like trying to lose Goliath. And when you have little time, little tiny time–it’s so hard to slip into that space. For me, an hour is a good amount of time to run for, to eat for, to write for, to have coffee with a friend for, to bathe or swim for. I love An Hour. It’s like the denim jeans of Time. It fits so many occasions.
Whole days, whole summers, six months–it’s like the Coronation Dress of Time. You will never feel like it’s the right occasion for this Time.
I am learning how to stitch a row of hours together.
Send almonds.
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Oh my, the almonds thing is wonderful. I am so into the almonds thing. Mmmm.
I had a day like this yesterday. Whole day free to work=no good work done. Started off good, with the poem I was attached to, could not stop writing on for a few hours at least. (I had the timer going.) But not having a stopping point, a deadline, a time-frame to work in just meant I ended up feeling like absolute garbage. I wrote for a while and then suddenly I was drifting around the house, telling myself I’d come back to it, I’d do my work on that list I made in a second, just after I ate or made iced tea or or or or. So when my yoga class rolled around at 7 pm, I was nearly in tears wanting something to pull me out of my Whole Day Too Open funk. Thank goodness for that 7pm yoga class. It saved the day.
I do not think I need time. I do not need time at all. I think I need STRUCTURE. Too much time kicks me in the head. I end up feeling
totally disheartedned and down and like the world is dead. No good.
I like the Time as denim image. The hour. The carved out work space. I need to sew timers into all my clothing and use the darn little things whenever I try to work on ANYTHING. Like a little carving tool. Like the kind of making wood carvings.
I am a teacher also, taught summer school in June, but have all of July off. I took a week for vacation and have had all this time since then. Yes I agree with you completely. free hours leave me feeling lost. I need structure. Like you when busy working and having goals to be met, I find free time rewarding. Great read! Thanks! Makes me feel not so alone with feeling that way.
Structure and discipline. If I have these, I can make the most of time. Trouble is I can’t seem to hold onto these slippery habits. When time is abundant, I become nomadic and the denim becomes a huge tent I sit under and waste away. Tic Toc
Structure and discipline. Each is like a slimey electric eel. I can be charged and ready to go. Or the eel can slip through my hands and I slip into that vast wasteland. Tic Toc
Like you, I accomplish more when I write in two-hour blocks. After I try and write all day, I get exhausted and I find myself unable to move the next day. My body becomes like lead, my brain breezy.
too much time is exactly like that dress that seems too fancy to wear today. i’ll look at it in my closet, want to wear it, and tell myself to wait for a better occasion. finally, i give in. i try to dress it down. wear it with flats, a tank top or something that looks really casual but still matches. and it works.
now, i will have to try this with time. dress it down, add a belt to give it some structure. i think i can work with the hour.