I had one of those chance conversations today that start small and finish really big.
A friend and I were chatting about plants and about pools and about travel, when we got onto the subject of writing. I know that she has writing dreams, so I asked how they were going.
“Not well,” she admitted, before confessing that she had trouble finding the time to write.
(We have discussed before my thoughts on making time, but stay with me here – I’m branching out, I promise.)
We went through a whole range of variations of how busy life is and how hard it is to find the time to do the things we want.
But there was more to it.
There’s always more to it.
Writing around a family is not easy
Like many women, many mothers, she’s struggling to fit the thing she wants to do in around the things she feels she has to do.
The things that other people expect her to do.
Writing, particularly when it’s not paid, looks like a colossal waste of time to non-writers – particularly to those people who might be working long hours to keep the family afloat financially.
Writing eats up hours.
It is the kind of thing that can take you far away from the dirty dishes in the sink and the unmade beds and the general detritus of daily life.
Right up until the point where the family comes home and you find yourself rushing around, trying to make up for lost time.
“There is no more sombre enemy of good art than the pram in the hall.”
I was surprised to find that the architect of this very well-known quote was a man (US literary critic Cyril Connolly to be precise).
To me, it is something a female writer might have come up with after the sleepless nights and interrupted thought patterns that accompany the newborn infant.
Or perhaps even about the overriding sense of responsibility and selflessness that accompanies being a parent. A mother.
Writing is all about you
Writing is a selfish task. It is all about you.
Most women, in particular, I know find that concept very, very difficult to put into practice once they have children. I know that I have.
My freelance writing is one thing – it’s my job, it’s paid, it helps with family income.
But the fiction?
Colossal gamble.
Hours and hours and hours of my life in pursuit of a dream. Making myself sit down at 10pm at night. Getting up early (okay, once).
I know female authors who can’t work in school holidays, no matter where they’re at with their latest project. I know female authors who tuck their writing away from their families, hiding it from husbands who don’t like the impact it has on family life.
Compartmentalising.
Cuckoo in the nest
Like a cuckoo in the nest, writing is viewed as a voracious beast that has the potential to disrupt familiar routines and interfere with family time.
Babies do not get that you have a deadline and you need them to sleep, right NOW, for at least two hours.
Children do not understand that you are in full flight, on a roll, chasing down the most glorious idea that you’ve ever had. They want their afternoon snack, right NOW, and it’s time for swimming lessons, thanks.
Partners sometimes don’t get why you’d want to give up quality tele time with them to get back to your computer and the particular juicy subplot that came to you in the shower.
Houses do not clean themselves.
I understand it. Family units work best when each family member is present.
When I’m writing something, I spend a lot of time in my head.
I can be reading a bedtime story to my boys while busily devising my own quite different plot point at the same time.
After I walk the boys to school, I meander home in the sunshine, deep in my own thoughts. This is not always ideal in a smallish town where people wonder why you look straight through them on the street.
Most female writers I know have learnt to manage without the long stretches of writing time that is the ‘ideal’ for creating great work. They write in snatches, when they can. They work hard to get the writing done without inconveniencing anyone else.
But they still write.
What am I saying here?
Find a way
If you’re struggling, like my friend, with this notion that your writing is somehow inconvenient, that you should be spending your time doing more worthwhile things, find a way.
Do it at a time when it affects no-one at all, be that 5am or midnight or during your lunch hour at work.
If you have stories to write, then write them.
You only get one crack at this life. Don’t let dirty dishes and expectations stand between you and your writing dream.
To steal a catchphrase: You’re worth it.
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This also applies to working dads, too. So I found this post really helpful. Trying to fit writing in around work, house and family responsibilities is challenging. My wife believes writing is a waste of time, which could be better spent with the children, or doing more around the house. So I write in the margins of my life, I don’t talk about doing it, and I make frustratingly slow progress.
I hear you! So many parents out there doing the same thing. Keep going! Even slow and frustrating progress is progress. Take the wins where you can!
This perfectly encapsulates why I did not write a thing in all of my 47 years of life until a year ago. Instead, I allowed obligation and the fear of being judged a bad wife and mother to let the words remain in my head. Day. After. Day. I know it sounds so very sad. Whenever I read that someone wrote as much as they could from the age of three, constructing their first book at age 8 and is now a celebrated writer, I wince. For me, my sense of duty really did snuff out my dreams of being a writer. It eventually got so bad that I knew if I didn’t write something somewhere I would burst, which is why I have started my blog. But it also has made me a much calmer person to be around. I am still finding my writing feet, my voice and what genre I am best suited to, but I do know one thing, when you have something inside of you that you can’t get out, it is like a cancer eating away at your soul. Writing is my creative pursuit and my therapy. I hope my family sees that and appreciates that writing is my dream and as much as I support them in theirs, they are able to support me in mine. Thanks for writing this. xx
Thanks for this thoughtful response Sarah. I think that so many of us feel the same way! I’m so glad you’re writing now. Keep going!
Love this. Thank you.
Thanks Rebecca!
What a great post. And I can see from the number of comments that it resonated with many many people. I love the Cyril Connolly quote. I came across it via Nick Hornby when my son was a baby. It is so true that writing is a selfish act. It often feels directly at odds with parenting. I am lucky to have a partner who is incredibly supportive of my writing, even when I make (next to) no money from it, and he always supports me in carving out time to do it. I know many writers don’t have that luxury.
Thanks Annabel!
Thank you Allison for GETTING IT and more importantly for saying it!! 🙂 I’m lucky to have a supportive family but there are still bills to pay, children to care for … And those.. Damn.. Dirty.. Dishes… Aaaaargggg I can’t even look at them! Let’s keep the discussion going about how to juggle parenthood with our creative ambitions. The more we talk about it, the more people (doubters) might start to realise that there is value in supporting artists, who can imagine and articulate the world in a way which brings us all together. X
Thanks Al. My wife does most of the paid work in the family at the moment and I’m doing a lot with my sons. That said, my wife is very supportive of my writing. That helps me find bits of time to write. I do feel bad though, when she is talking to me and I’m nodding, but actually I am somewhere else in my head fleshing out a plot or thinking of how to make a sentence better. A few times I’ve pretended to have heard what she said but it didn’t end well. Now I just say, sorry, my head was in my book, please say it again. Here’s to supportive partners 🙂
P.S. I often run plot points past my sons (5 and 3). Their advice is often insightful, not always helpful, but insightful.
This is why I blog. I can write a 500-100 word blog post and get some of those thoughts out of my head in the short snippets of time between ‘life’. When the kids grow up a little (they’re currently 4 and 2) I’ll try my hand at something more long form.