branta

My writing routine is not a routine, per se, for my Canadian Oxford Dictionary claims that a routine is “a regular course or procedure, an unvarying performance of certain acts.” Sure there are parts of my day that are routine: drinking coffee; jotting interesting quotes, words, ideas into my notebook; checking my email, facebook, twitter; reading; writing. But unvarying? Certain? I also have a full-time job teaching a university-level English composition class through distance education. I have 96 students and the workload varies from day to day, answering email queries, marking assignments and exams (they come in the mail) and performing other administrative tasks. And I have a toddler who is almost three. So I spend as much time as possible with him.

My little guy is an early riser, so my day usually starts sometime between 6 and 7 am. My wife and I alternate getting up with him and then we sit down with a cup of tea, watch him play, play with him, or read him books. After tea, I make breakfast. We eat and shortly afterwards my wife leaves for work and drops our son off at daycare. I, however, remain in my pajamas, make coffee and turn my computer on. Usually I will check my email first (both personal and work). At this point my routine can veer off into two directions: either I start answering my students’ emails and then mark some essays until noon, or I check facebook, twitter and eventually get a little writing done before I move on to marking essays, etc. After lunch, I usually do what needs to get done (going to the post office, buying groceries, doing dishes, or other chores), and then I fit in more essay marking or manage to get a few more tidbits of writing done. At 4:30 my wife and son return and we have more family time until he goes to bed, sometime between 7:30 to 8pm. Then I go for an hour long walk most nights, where I can think about my projects, etc. I’m usually too tired to do much besides read after that, and occasionally my wife and I will rent a movie or maybe discuss our writing projects over a glass of wine.

The weekend is a bit more writing-friendly. My wife and I trade-off sleep-in days, so Saturday is my day. Then we have till late morning to do with as we please, and since we are both writers, we write. Then we have family time through the day. My son still naps, bless his heart, so there is another two hours on average to do a little reading or writing. On Sunday, my wife sleeps in, but I get some time during my son’s nap.

For a while, I bemoaned the fact that I couldn’t find time to write everyday, which is something that at least makes you feel as though you are a writer. But then I found a copy of Sylvia Plath’s Letters Home-actually a first edition (for fifty cents!) in excellent shape at a local library sale-and read it cover to cover. On page 147, I read this: “The thing about writing is not to talk, but to do it; no matter how bad or even mediocre it is, the process and production is the thing, not the sitting and theorizing about how one should write ideally, or how well one could write if one really wanted to or had the time.” Plath’s aim at around this time was to have 20 pieces out at magazines. That gave me a wake-up call, as a writer. I would stop bemoaning and start producing. So for one month afterwards, I was determined to write at least 500 words per day and start producing. At the end of that month I had 15000 words of fiction, a few poems, and a bunch more ideas to work with. I found one idea came after another, and all the reading I was doing was feeding the imagination and ideas, and all the walking I did at night was percolating all that raw material. Walking is actually the most important part of the routine because without it I would be stressed out, fat and lazy. Since that first month, I’ve slowed down a bit, but still try to get at least a little something written. On those days I just don’t have time due to other commitments, I don’t bemoan; I pick up my pen or open a new word document even if it is only for 10 minutes. I still long for distraction-free stretches of time, but I don’t let the longing paralyze me. So thanks to Tracy Hamon, who guffawed at my bemoaning, and to Sylvia Plath, who not long after reiterated what Tracy said.

Some other sundries:

- Do I listen to music? Yes, sometimes. It’s usually got to be instrumental. Right now I seem to be playing Miles Davis’ Bitches Brew quite a lot. Could be the fact that I recently acquired a trumpet and am learning how to play it. Before that I was listening to Ben Harper’s Both Sides of the Gun.

- Do I attend a writing group? Yes, my wife and I host one roughly once a month. We’ve found some serious writers nearby who enjoy coming over to exchange and critique work while enjoying a glass of wine. But since we live in a rural setting, I like to get to Edmonton (only an hour and a half away) as often as possible for readings and other events.

- If I’m ever stuck for an idea, I start with an image and try to see where it takes me or I leaf through my notebooks for something that strikes me. I always feel better when I’ve written something, even if it is only a paragraph or a few lines of a poem. Sometimes I will deliberately stop in the middle of something so that I have a jumping off point the next day.

So my routine (rout-Ian!) is not as prescriptive as the dictionary defines it, and I am constantly adjusting a bit here, a bit there. As long as the main components are there-coffee, walking, reading-the writing will get done. And every once in a while I get a jolt to the routine: the unstructured time of a retreat, where all that walking, reading and thinking pays off. After a day of adjustment, of course!