A Balanced Writing Life

          Sometimes it is not all about writing. Ack! Did I say that?

          Actually, yes, I did. A year or two or ten ago, I would have disagreed. When I was too busy to write, I would fret that I couldn’t get to a computer to capture all my extraordinary ideas. When I had a free moment, it had to be spent writing. As my days became more my own (ie kids grew up and out), I had more and more time to write. I should have been producing a lot more. Funny thing happened, though. My productivity plummeted. My ideas flew away. My enthusiasm stopped enthusing. Writing, and the guilt of not writing, became a cat-o-nine-tails I flogged myself with every day.

          Until the day I realized I had things backward. Writing was not supposed to BE my life. It was meant to enhance my life, to be the outlet, one of many, that I used to leave my mark on those around me. (There was much more to this epiphany, but that really was the crux of the lesson I realized that day.)

          Since that day almost ten months ago, I have rediscovered the joy of writing, instituted a consistent writing habit and reintegrated writing into a proper place in my life. Part of that proper process is scheduled breaks. I don’t write on weekends. And I don’t stress and fret about my projects during that time. I really set them aside, don’t think about them (mostly) and enjoy other aspects of my life. Each Monday, I return to writing with renewed enthusiasm . . . and productivity.

          Last year at some point (I don’t remember exactly when) I said I was taking a break, spending some time not writing. I never really did. I mulled and thought, planned and sometimes wrote out my notes. During that supposed writing vacation, I was always considering at least one of my possible or actual projects. I returned to scheduled writing as burnt out as I’d been before the supposed break.

          This year, though, after confining and nurturing intentional consistency, I could see that the best choice during my extended road trip was to take a true break from writing. And I did it! I went two weeks writing nothing on any of my projects! Two weeks! I came home ready to get busy. Then my father-in-law died and my days became full of arrangements and relatives.

          No writing last week. And no guilt! (Incidentally, this is procrastination at its best. ) I will get back to writing, maybe even today. Or maybe not. My soldier son was able to get leave to attend the funeral, so he might usurp (rightly so) writing time. Eventually, though, I will re-establish routines and goals and quotas. For now, though, I will live life and gather up these memories, rejoicing in my victory of confining my love and joy of writing to its proper place in my life. And reveling in it there.

          It’s not all about writing. It’s about balance. What do you have to balance this week?