It’s all going so well, and then….it’s not. I fumble a piece of copper coated with enamel and drop it on the floor, I smash my thumb with a hammer, and then lose the teeny tiny rivet I was trying to tap into place. I break a saw blade, and realize I cut out the wrong size shape and punched too large of a hole in it.

The errors and injuries increase and are compounded the harder I work. I know the kids are happily playing, but I know it won’t stay that way for hours, and I’m running out of time. I feel like screaming, or throwing something (always a bad idea in the workshop), and I can feel my agitation level rise.

GAH! Why does this happen? For me, any number of reasons. To begin with, one of the things I struggle with from time to time is claiming my “artist-ness”; that is, allowing myself to really believe that I am an artist, that I have talent and skill, and that what I can do really is unique. Whenever I am in a position of feeling less than confident, this old monster rears its ugly head. And I have to firmly shush it.

Another factor is usually time related. Instead of allowing myself to work without expectation and to create whatever I can in the time that is available, I push. I forge ahead, sometimes blindly, in an effort to *finish*, because I do not know how much time I really have before the kids are punching each other, or have gotten into something they aren’t supposed to, or they just plain old need me back.

And then there are the good old high expectations I have for myself. Yikes. If ever there was a club with which to beat myself, this one would be it. It takes quite a bit of effort for me to cut myself some slack from time to time.

Like being sleep-deprived and trying to create, as I talked about in my previous post, sometimes I have to remind myself that this is not a picture of things as they really are.

So, what helps? For me, walking away from the workbench completely. Going for a ride on my scooter. Watching a movie with the kids. Cooking. Going out and getting a latte. The world will not end if I don’t make a bracelet or rivet that pendant. Remembering that can be difficult for my goal-oriented, occasionally driven self. But it’s necessary, especially as I remember that I have come to my “artist-ness” because the act of creating fills a soul-deep need. So, the journey and the process is really what I’m about. And, I’ve discovered after a self-imposed period away from the workshop, I can usually either solve the problem I was having, or find a new path to a different end result. Sometimes the end result is even better than the original idea!

I think periods of creative frustration are part of the process, at least for me. It seems to move my work along at points when I need it to — when things seem stagnant, and the ideas aren’t coming to me. That pendant I was trying to rivet at the beginning of this post? It became something else entirely, and I like it even more than what I had planned.

How do you handle creative frustrations?

Yesterday was one of those days. No, not one of THOSE days, but one of those days. Those rare, crystalline days when the clock seems to slow its frantic pace — and magically, there’s time for everything.

I woke up before my alarm went off, feeling refreshed after an unusually restful weekend. Seemingly without effort, I went through my morning routine (20 minutes of meditation, breakfast and lunches for the family, planning the day and a brief intention journal entry, tidied the house, and started a load of laundry). Then I took Liam (my youngest) to preschool and came home to finish a client writing project while Aidan (my 6-year-old, already out of school for the summer) played Lego Star Wars. Then I completed the week’s menu plan, cleaned out the fridge, and took Aidan and the dog for a thoroughly enjoyable walk. We then went off to do the grocery shopping, run an errand, and read a few pages in Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets in the parking lot before it was time to get Liam.

Already feeling in the flow, we came home and the boys played in the driveway with a fresh set of sidewalk chalk while I put the groceries away. Then we went downstairs to the teenagers’ man-cave to hear some new Dear Hunter tracks that my oldest (Russell, home from college) wanted to play for me. The little guys jumped gleefully on the sectional and wrestled on the floor while I enjoyed a cup of coffee, smiling as Russell tackled Liam, who screamed in glee. It’s amazing to watch my children, in their wide range of ages, enjoy each other.

The rainy morning had cleared into sunshine, so after I advanced the laundry we all moved out onto the patio. Russell tried to focus on his own book as I read another chapter in Harry Potter to Aidan. Liam was in and out, playing with the cats and absconding with my iPhone. After a good long reading session, Aidan ran off to join his other older brother, Matthew, who was playing hacky sack in the driveway with a few of his friends. I figured this was a good time to work on a short piece I’m writing for the upcoming CCA newsletter, so while Liam was still busy with my phone (and nearly falling asleep) I sat with him on the couch and knocked out the short article. It was one of those beautifully satisfying writing sessions where the piece comes together on its own. I sent it off for review, feeling utterly content. I had finished both of the writing projects that I’d planned for the day.

With a bit more time to spare (how was this possible?) the little boys and I played a long game of Sorry and then had Loud and Crazy Dance Time while I assembled dinner (chef’s salad night, where I put out a dozen different salading items, make some fresh salad dressing, and everyone fixes their own). My husband hadn’t come home from work yet, the older boys were busy with friends, and my daughter was passed out cold (more on that here) so Aidan, Liam, and I had dinner on our own, followed by an overly gluttonous feast of organic kiwi.

Just after we went upstairs to start bathtime, my husband arrived and took over bedtime preparations while I went downstairs to start a mammoth bill-paying and bookkeeping session (long overdue) while my daughter emerged from her cocoon, had dinner, and cleaned up the kitchen (her nights are Mondays and Tuesdays). After tucking the little boys in, I banged away at another hour of Quicken before going up to bed. Not that balancing the checking account is a fun thing to do, but I felt good about making progress (and about stopping at a pre-determined time).

I wish I could distill the lovely day into its magical ingredients.The day wasn’t “perfect” — Liam was a little grumpy and the dog peed on the dining room carpet again, after we just spent nearly $500 on vet bills and carpet cleaning after her last UTI — but I wasn’t thrown off center by those little “blips.” Why did time seem to slow down? Was it the hours spent outside? All that reading aloud? Was it the fact that I’d loosely planned the day and was able to accomplish all of my major intentions? Was it the mix of to-do list with unplanned fun? Was it not checking my e-mail too frequently? Was it the delicate, lovely interplay of creativity and motherhood?

I can’t know, of course. I can only hold the day lightly, and try not to squeeze it to death in my desire to recreate its beauty. I am deeply grateful. I inhale deeply, and make space for whatever comes next.

What makes your days lovely and long?

I spent the previous two days at writing camp with my writing group. Two whole days dedicated to writing. Yesterday I had a different meeting in the morning, but then I headed straight to  my writing camp’s day two, and thought I was going to have trouble, but amazingly got right to it! I seriously surprised myself by what I accomplished in the last 48 hours!

The List now looks like this:

DONE~continue to edit Joe out/Mike into Thanksgiving and Observatory scenes

DONE~write observatory scene using A. H.’s notes

Fixed~pay attention to name changes for T. B. and T. N.

working on~characterize supporting characters more through action and physical description

working on~make ‘thought bubbles’ action scenes or move them to more fitting scene

working on~edit down cooking relevance

mostly finished, maybe a bit more at the end~more on comets

I also edited it a bit more in making sentences and paragraphs more succinct in the first 50 or so pages.

I need to edit the observatory scene now, but at least it’s on paper – er, computer screen. I think my next stage is to print and edit again by hand. I read very differently on paper than on screen, and can see needed changes so much better.

I obviously need to be in a different environment than my office with my home distractions to be able to concentrate on my manuscript edits.

The other five women I sat in quiet with for the past two days expressed the same thing. Here’s the funny part: I thought it was because of my kids, etc, but only half of us have children at home, and of varying ages. I am the only one with a toddler or a special-needs child, of course, I have one of each. Two are grandmothers who live with their retired spouses, who are both very good at busying themselves. And one is home while her husband still goes to the office.

We’re all at a stage of editing a large work we’re committed to. All of our projects are middle reader or young adult novels. Yesterday we planned that the rest of our usual twice a month meetings for the summer will be devoted to writing, no critique.

This way, when autumn comes around, we will all have work to critique. How’s that for commitment? I couldn’t do this without them. I am so grateful to my writing group and to the time we commit to working together.

[crossposted from musings in mayhem]

Two years ago, a fellow yogi and I e-mailed one another daily preparing for a retreat we were both attending. This correspondence continued over a 6-month time period. I saved all the e-mails thinking that I would compile them and put them in book form as a beautiful memory for both of us. This endeavor produced 63 double sided (8.5 x 11) pages. I realized with that exercise that writing a page a day is incredibly doable. So, why have I continued to make excuses for my non-existent writing life?

Julia Cameron, in her book The Artist’s Way, describes this type of behavior as ‘shadow artists.’ Pent-up creativity flows sideways into other venues such as e-mails, telephone conversations (read Facebook and Twitter!) in an effort to clue the defiant artist that he/she is not living the fullness of his/her life. Whether it hearkens back to being discouraged from exploring art as a child, feeling incompetent or simply viewing the task as a waste of time, the idea of creation for its own sake rather than a manifestation of outcomes takes much courage to walk into.

As I choose to move my own shadow artist into the light, dusting off years of denial, complacency, and just plain laziness, I pray that this decision awakens the thrill of living within the juicy words on the page, finally out of my head with the potential to garner community and conversation.

[Photo credit here.]

a friend offered to barter my tutoring her 13-year-old daughter for watching my 2-year-old daughter on writers’ group days.  So I don’t need to find and pay for immediate daycare just so I can have a few hours of writing and critique time a couple of times a month.

aaaand!

drumroll, please…..

Honey’s cousin needs some of Honey’s professional expertise on a public speaking gig in Colorado in a couple of weeks. And he offered to let me tag along, too. I will go to his public speaking gig, but largely, I am going to blissfully sit in my hotel room, without any interruptions and edit the bejeez out of my manuscript on Honey’s laptop!!!

and Grandma offered to watch the kids for that weekend.

I hope I didn’t die, because this sure feels like heaven.

[slightly edited crosspost from musings in mayhem]

What lengths will you go to in order to protect your creative time?

I’ve come to depend on my Saturday morning “me time.” My husband and I split the weekend mornings; he gets Sunday. This means I can either sleep in on Saturdays or get up early and start writing — or a combination of the two. But I have from whenever I get up until 10:00 or even 11:00 (if I push it) all to myself, assuming that I don’t have to leave the house to go do something. Like pick kids up from sleepovers.

Sleepovers. A few weeks ago I came to realize that my Saturday morning time was increasingly being sacrificed to pickups for one of my older kids after a Friday night sleepover. Sleepover pickup time seems to be 10:00 by default. This means I need to leave the house by 9:45 in most instances — so I have to start showering/getting dressed by 9:15. If my husband and I were up late the night before and I want to sleep in a little, maybe I get out of bed at 8:00. So, up at 8:00, make coffee….by the time I’m happily ensconced back in bed with my coffee and laptop, I might have an hour left before having to stop. Now, an hour is nothing to sneeze at, but it’s a whole lot less than nearly THREE hours. And without question, once I’m up and have joined the family, that’s it. There’s no going back to my morning hidey-hole. What’s a mama to do?

I started telling my older kids that they had to nail-down pickup time BEFORE dropoff. Either they needed to know that I could pick them up at 11:00 or later, or they had to arrange for a ride home. If neither option was feasible, and the sleepover couldn’t be moved to our house, then no sleepover. I figured that this was only one of the two weekend nights anyway, so it couldn’t be too problematic.

My new edict took hold. Things were going well. I started remembering to remind the kids about pickup plans before I agreed to take them anywhere on Friday nights. More time to self = happier me.

Then, this weekend, my mother came down to babysit while my husband and I went to the David Gray concert in Boston. As we were leaving — late — my daughter asked if she could sleepover at a friend’s house. She needed a dropoff, however, and it was out of our way. No go. But then Grandma volunteered to take her, with the two little ones in tow. Fine. Daughter was happy and packed her stuff in a rush. Just as we were all heading out the door at the same time, I remembered: “What about tomorrow? Are you going to need a ride before 11:00?” Oh. Daughter wasn’t sure. She made a few calls. No, she had to be picked up by 10:00 because the host had a soccer game, and the other girl who was also sleeping over was unable to give my daughter a ride.

I thought about my morning, and how I was so looking forward to getting back to my manuscript. I thought about what I’d just said to Cathy about how your family won’t take your creative commitment seriously unless YOU take it seriously. I want to finish this book, and I need to treat my work LIKE MY WORK.

I told my daughter I couldn’t pick her up at 10:00.

She was sweet, and didn’t give me a guilt trip. “It’s OK,” she said. “I’m going to have a busy weekend NEXT weekend.”

I felt like crap. Really, was it such a big deal to cut my morning a little short? I couldn’t do it. “It’s fine, I’ll just get you in the morning,” I said (a little reluctantly). “No, Momma,” she said. “It’s fine.” She headed back to her room, and I let it go. We left, while I fell into maternal self-flagellation. Isn’t it a mother’s JOB to drive her kids all over the place? Was it really fair to deprive my daughter of a fun night with her friends, just because I selfishly wanted MORE time to myself?

I don’t know the answers to those questions, and I don’t know if I want to know. But my daughter didn’t go, and I used my morning time effectively. I kind of owed it to my daughter to do that, didn’t I?

What would YOU have done?

Some of our readers are contemplating (or have already committed to) NaNoWriMo. What are you going to do to protect the amount of time required for churning out 1,600 words a day? Sure, most people here (even non-writers!) could churn out 1,600 words in a single day. But EVERY day, for THIRTY days?

Despite the sheer terror mild panic, I’m thinking of running “bandit” on the NaNoWriMo road race. I can’t commit officially, because I want to work on my current fiction project and NoNoWriMo rules specify that all projects MUST be from scratch. I’m also more than a little intimidated by the 1,600 daily benchmark. Even just committing to 500 words a day might be a struggle for me. Once I get going, I’m fine, but finding the sit-in-your-seat-and-get-started window, every day, is pas evident.

Stepping up your game, and making sure that YOU are clear on your commitment and that you then communicate that commitment to your family, are essential steps. What else can we do to create — and protect — our time?

[Photo courtesy Shawn Allen under a Creative Commons license.]

The question of balancing motherhood and creativity arises constantly. The other day, I read a very interesting wake-up call over on and her head popped off. I loved the photograph of the mom going ahead with painting whilst her toddler hung upside down, squiggling on her lap. The mom in the photo is continuing her creative work regardless of being a mom as is the photographer and author. The essence of what Terri wrote was just shut up and do it. If you really want it, you’ll make it happen.

I think that’s why a lot of us mother-writers blog. It’s a piece of writing, that while it may not necessarily change the world or be the next Great American Novel, keeps us going. We can do it in the snatches of time during naps, or a bit of quiet while school aged kids are out of the house, in between loads of laundry and sinkfuls of dishes. We can focus for a few minutes, while our Big Project waits sometimes patiently, sometimes not so patiently for a chance to be the focus. We can do it while a wiggling toddler cuddles in for a snuggle while our fingers click away on a keyboard, like at this very moment that I write.

My old photography self of eons past has been relegated to largely okay pics of the kids and whatever catches my eye, with a little automatic easy camera rather than one I could make adjustments on, given the time and the perogative. The old dancer self still throws down in the kitchen periodically, albeit stiffly and ungainly. The old performer self regales at the dinner table in silly voices and fake opera, when I can get a word in edgewise among the constant stream of noise from all three kids. The old drawing self, will doodle now and then, and more often pretend large invisible canvases in sweeping gestures with my arms while I sit vegging out in front of the tv of an evening, too exhausted to do anything more. Honey must wonder what I’m doing over there, but is too polite or exhausted himself. Other times, I am making chi pottery, sitting with my hands balled around or manipulating invisible clay.

And I blog. I post something every weekday since I started this with the exception of when I took a summer excursion.

I know I have a manuscript that really wants to be finished and shopped. Believe me, if I could focus on that right now, I would. But when it comes to the big writing, I need more mental energy than I currently have. I also have three horizontal file drawers of poems and short stories that could use editing, compiling, submitting, as well as how many on the hard drive that need the same, and the three journals in my bedside drawer, dog-eared where good ideas are languishing. And then there’s that screenplay idea from about eight years ago that still won’t die, and I’ve lost the outline for ages ago.

But, for right now, This is what I can write, while I chase C away from the dog food again when things have gotten a bit too quiet. I’m doing a pretty fair job of it. And yes, I just wrote another very self-referential blog about blogging. But I’m doing it. I am writing.

Sorry pic is blurry, my cellphone was what was handy at the opportunity of the little squidge sleeping with her brand new Daddy, so small and frail.

Now, so many changes later: many developmental stages, many sleepless nights, weigh-ins, vaccinations, teethings, fumbles, new words come and gone while she tries to navigate the physical world and speaks to us in burbled sentences and very clear gestures. We have the pleasure to know this wonderfully funny, perceptive, never blinking, unflinching, deliberate and beautiful girl. A gift at a late life stage, amazed we were even able to have her. She is our joy daily, big and strong, and easy-going.

And if it weren’t for her, I wouldn’t have connected so strongly with the women involved in this community, wouldn’t have B&M’ed about sleepless nights, naps while nursing, frustratedly typing at my manuscript while she kicks the keyboard. I’ve kvetched so and welcomed much needed commiseration in the past year here. Thanks, fellow moms, no joke. May your ideas turn into beautiful completed creations, get published, galleried and sold and your children grow well.

While we can’t beg, borrow, or steal more time, there are things we can do to “save” time. One key area where you may be able to scrounge up a few more precious moments is on the domestic front.

How do you divvy up your household tasks? Are you able to delegate effectively to your spouse and/or kids? Do you feel like you do more than your fair share — and that housework cuts into your creative opportunities? Do you use positive or negative reinforcement to encourage your kids to pitch in? Do you tie chores to allowance? Have you ever used a chore chart? Is it all a regular routine, or a free-for-all? Are you the kind of person who thinks it’s just easier to do it all yourself? Do you subscribe to the idea that chores are important self-esteem builders for kids, and that even a three-year-old can help unload the dishwasher and put toys away? Do household chores cause strife between you and your kids or spouse?

Cathy Coley and I had an interesting conversation on this topic last week. There are certainly some common male/female dynamics at play in both of our houses. Tell us how things work — or don’t work — at your house. What would you like to improve? What successful strategies do you want to share? Let’s use our collective wisdom to gather up a bonus hour or two.

When you aspire to living in the moment, it’s easy to forget about all those things you want to do “someday.” The only things that belong on a “someday” list, however, are things that you might be interested in but won’t regret if you never get to them: like taking a Thai cooking class or getting dreadlocks. If the prospect of not doing something on that list is upsetting, then it doesn’t belong on a “someday” list. It should move onto a real agenda. Because really, someday is today — and if dreadlocks really speak to who you are, then you need to figure out how to make that happen now, rather than leaving it to fantasy.

While I continually make progress incorporating creativity into my life — an erratic but upward stagger — I realize there are things on my “someday” list that I really could — and should (“should” because it would make me happy) — be doing right now.

For example, I’d like to have an art space in my basement. I have a huge, unfinished basement that is dry and not too unpleasant. There isn’t a lot of stuff down there because we moved many things into storage when we put our house on the market. We have a playroom of sorts in one area of the basement. Why not cobble together a studio so that I can do art projects whenever I like, without taking over the kitchen table or the dining room? A place where I can leave projects mid-progress, without having to clean everything up after every creative stint? I could put something together with little or no cost. Sure, I’m trying to sell my house, but so what? I don’t think that an informal studio area, even if it does get a little cluttered, is going to bother prospective buyers. (And the whole house selling thing is a “someday” trap if ever there was one.)

I also realized that I have another category of “someday” items that I never intended to put off; they’ve been relegated to the “someday” list by accident. These are things that I think I’m going to do “tomorrow,” but then tomorrow never comes. Every week I seem to repeat the same thing: “Well, THIS week is really busy because of X. Next week will be better, and then I’ll be able to do Y.” But then the next week I’m all “Well, THIS week is really busy because of Q. Next week…” And so on. Of course, this mythical week of relative calm and predictable schedule never arrives — and so I eternally put off whatever it was that I wanted to do. It’s a slow kind of death by the best of intentions. Who am I kidding? You’d think I’d have figured it out by now. I have five children and a freelance career. Obviously, relative calm and a predictable schedule are not high on the list of likely outcomes. Some weeks will be better than others; some weeks will be busier than others; but really, the bandwidth is not going to change that drastically.

Here are two examples of things that I intend to get to, but never incorporate as reliable habits:

1. I’d like to spend less time on the computer (specifically time wasted on the computer). I always feel better when I put my laptop away for a day. And the kids love it too. Anyone who really needs to reach me urgently has my cell phone number. Even if I don’t go fully unplugged, I know I’m better off having set computer times — a few brief stints at specific intervals. Aside from my two full workdays (when I’m glued to my laptop nonstop) there is no reason that I can’t adopt a more reasonable computer routine. Making this happen today instead of later means spending more time focused on the kids, now, when they need me, which is another “someday” item of its own. Do I want to wait until ALL the children head off to college and I realize that I missed my chance to spend more time with them — and that the false promise of “someday” has actually evaporated?
2. I’d like to get back on top of dinnertime. I usually cook something vaguely nutritious at least four or five times a week, but lately it always seems like my oldest one has just returned from work (at a coffee shop) and isn’t hungry or I cooked something that the ninth-grade son doesn’t like or I timed things badly and my stuffed squash isn’t actually ready until 8:00 p.m. — which is bedtime for the pre-schooler. (Tonight’s scenario, for example.) I want to increase my repertoire of yummy “regular” meals (the most recent set is getting tired) and add a little more ceremony — and creativity — to dinnertime.

Those are my “someday” items for the moment. I can’t say that “work on my book” is on my “someday” list, because I AM actually writing with some vague regularity right now. I’m even running, although not more than 2-3 times a week — but running nonetheless. So there are two perennial “someday” items that I am actually doing.

How about you? What’s on your “someday” list that you really should and could start doing right now? And what “someday” items have you actually moved into the “now” column?