The Writing Practice
an occasionally fleeting, but more often rewarding work in progress
I’m just dropping in to warm up with some words on my writing practice. I started writing very deliberately, but with no particular purpose, as early as 5yrs old when I spent my school book fair allowance on a shimmery pink, plastic covered diary with a teddy bear on the cover. These were anecdotal observations, poetry, rants, and even dramatic dialogues-that-never-were between people I’ve loved and hated. In terms of usability, the diaries have provided nothing but solace, introspection and documentation on the life of a drama queen. The other stuff was just testing grounds, I think, which are (maybe?) still stored in my bedroom closet at my parents’ house in Canada.
Later, when I was studying journalism and then writing for my media/comms jobs, I began writing with intention. That is, sitting down at my desk, in a cafe or on my bed (fav writing spot till I die) and hammering out ideas and words. Of course, I get distracted, I walk away, I stretch deadlines, I drink wine, and sometimes it takes me double the time I expected or planned to finish a piece. This approach has not contributed to my current work in any way except helping me exercise language and syntax and, of course, it’s allowed me to write hundreds of thousands of words for media publications and clients.
Literary writing is a very different ballgame. There’s still wine and distractions, but there’s something else I’m finding with this new direction of my writing life. One, since I am reading with intention as part of my MFA (as opposed to passive reading for leisure), I am also finding new sources for inspiration. So for the first time, my writing is happening sporadically in between pages of reading. I am not able to track how much time I spend reading a book because I stop every few pages to write something it’s inspired in me. Yes, I am reading some really good stuff — but this is news to me.
Secondly, I am writing and reading at different times from when I used to. I’ve never been a daytime reader. I like to read when the whole house is quiet and my backyard is bathed in darkness. Even though I write indoors, I know my surroundings are also asleep. But nowadays, I am finding the pages of my books brightened by a new, natural light. I feel like dracula coming out from years of nocturnal ignorance. This is all probably due to my schedule with kids and only scrounging up a few hours a day to work, but I’m pleasantly surprised with not needing to stay up late everyday like I used to.
Here’s how my writing practice looks these days — this will likely keep changing, but it’s been like this for about a month now:
Mornings
(6:30am to 8:30am)
Complete school dropoffs, grocery and home item orders, meal planning and other household stuff with a side of caffeine
(9–10:30am)
Half hour read + fitness — alternating between a long walk, often with some writing en route or something high intensity
(11am–1:30pm)
Reading and writing with a side of lunch
(1:30pm to 6pm)
Kids + activities + 2 x 15min reading blocks if possible
(6pm to 9:00pm)
Reading and writing
(9:00pm to 11pm)
I’m gonna say some of this is spent on procrastinating, but there is a large part spent on reading and writing. I’m just a bit more flexible with it depending on how close the deadline is. And, of course, I do go out at least 2–3 x a week.
I also briefly tested a 6am reading session when the kids woke me up extra early a few times but most of the time I prefer to sleep :D
Now, back to work.
