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deMUSEd
There is no more sombre enemy of good art than the pram in the hall. Cyril Connolly.
I sit down in front of my computer, a steaming cup of tea on the desk beside me, my clothes loose and comfortable, my feet be-socked and warm. It is a cold and wet Saturday morning, winter in the Southern hemisphere, and the children are home. I’ve settled them in front of the television to watch ABC kids. They are well-fed and dressed and shouldn’t need me for at least an hour. I’ve spent the morning making weet-bix and vegemite toast, pouring numerous glasses of milk and water, amazed, as usual, by how much they consume.
I open the word file, my latest work-in-progress (the ONE, of course, sure to be a hit and sell millions!) and read through the (masterful! riveting!) pages I wrote yesterday.
It’s easier to notice, the following day, the bits that need fixing; the repeated words, the clumsy phrasing, the stilted dialogue; so the first ten minutes are spent deleting and changing, adding commas or full-stops, making sentences longer or shorter. I quite enjoy this daily edit, this fine-tuning. It’s fun to polish your words and phrases until they shine! Far less taxing, I think, than coming up with the new stuff.
I’m excited about this latest manuscript. I’m fifty pages in and the characters are starting to come alive; making appearances in my dreams, interrupting my thoughts at random times. Inspired plot resolutions occur to me when I am reading, or just as I’m about to drift off to sleep. It has a form to me now, this story – shadowy still, its edges blurred – but discernible nonetheless. I can see where it might be headed and that it might actually have enough substance to make a novel.
A new page:
Chapter six!
My fingers fly, the words flow. Nevermind the spelling now, the commas, the punctuation – that can all be fixed later – but my muse is peering over my shoulder and she is cackling with delight, cheering me on.
Yes, yes. She cries. Oh, yes!
A noise intrudes. It seems to come from a distance…through a fog….but it grows clearer, louder, more familiar…….
Mummy, mummy, mummy!? My youngest is wailing. I recognize the cry, it isn’t urgent, but he is angry, indignant – emotionally injured, no doubt, by one of his brothers.
Okay, I shout, Okay! I sigh and press save and leave my desk reluctantly.
I console, wipe away tears and give kisses. I remind them to be good, promise a treat later… a trip to the park!... when the sun comes out.
I return to the computer and wait, fingers poised over the keyboard, for that feeling to return. That delightful ease of writing, that compulsion to get it all out, ideas and words pushing and shoving, tumbling over each other in their haste….
But it is gone.
I read over what I have written and it doesn’t seem all that inspired after all. Rather flat, really, and it needs a lot of editing, a lot of work to make it consistent, a bit more spark to make it compelling…..
Mummy!! Mummy?! The wailing has started again. Louder and more insistent this time.
I sigh again, stand up and walk away. But just before I leave the room I return to the computer. I turn it off and watch, resigned, as the screen goes black.
Mummy! Mummy!
Coming. I say. I’m coming.
Rebecca James
My Blog
Weet-bix? We have weetabix here, is that what they mean by good vowel movements?
well hello boggerblogger! um , yes, I guess removing the a makes for a pretty good vowel movement.
Weet-bix rolls much more nicely off the tongue than weetabix, don’t you think?
Ugh, I know that feeling so well. When it’s flowing, it seems so easy to shut them (and everything else that requires attention) out, but as soon as they break through, it’s all over.
Ah, my life in a nutshell…
I wish I knew enough people close enough that we could do the Rotating Daycare. Monday, I’d take everyone’s kids for the day, and Tuesday it would be someone else’s turn. Wednesday, someone else. For the price of one INSANE day a week, you’d get four of quality writing time.
Instead, my kids have learned the dread call: Naptime ;)
As I now have extensive experience caring for big groups of children, if I lived closer I’d totally babysit for you.
;)
Maybe you’ll have time after they go to bed? (If you’re not passed-out exhausted yourself…)
I was on a roll on Saturday – working on ONE, short piece – just a scene, really, and I couldn’t get C to be quiet for 10 minutes so I could edit. And he’s 14! Yup, you nailed it! Great post, and one I’m sure many of us can relate to.
You all need to learn the “Bleeding or on fire” rule.
I don’t invoke it all the time, but when it is necessary.
They are not to bother me unless they are bleeding or on fire.
Other than that they can wait a half an hour.
And the answer to “I’m bored,” is a chore. Usually something they really don’t like doing.
And, I don’t write in the summer. I only revise what I’ve done during the school year. Not so bad interrupting that.
Good luck.
cmr
Rebecca, if you had girls instead of boys I’d swear you were reporting the scene from my house. Oh, and change the weet-bix and vegemite toast to bananas and jelly toast.
Am I a bad mom for counting the hours until school starts again, or a bad writer for using the kids as an excuse not to plant my butt in front of the computer more? : P
Loved this post, Rebecca! I love the idea of being a “real” writer, but this sums up every attempt I’ve ever made!
Oh, yes. I know that feeling. Which is why I’m on my ‘summer writing schedule’. I put little man to bed at 9 pm, and I stay up until 11. Two whole hourse alone with my muse, because’s Hubby’s got to get up early for work. The house is quiet, even the dog’s gone to bed.
It’s bliss. I get all day to think about what I want to write, so by the time I get my alone time, I’m ready to go.
Once school starts again, that all goes to hell, but I’ll enjoy it while it lasts!
Are you the spider hanging there up in the corner of my lounge? I swear this is my house, except for me I get everything cleared away and the internet sucks me in. Motivation is proving hard to find these school holidays with gamecubes and tv’s and all the rest of it. I just can’t concentrate.
sob I’ve been out of Vegemite for months, and for some reason it’s on the list of “do not allow to be imported into the usa” at the moment, gawd I envy your kids some toast and Vegemite!
Oh and Weetabix = English, Weet-bix = Aussie/NZ/don’t know about SA
The muse can be fickle when you interrupt her.
It can be so hard to find uninterrupted time to write when you have kids. But you do it and that’s what matters
thanks for all the fantastic comments everyone. It’s 7am here so I’m off to do the whole weet-bix thing right now (and then three of my kids are off to school – yay!!! I’m obviously a bad mother too, Cathy)
And Chris, I love your bleeding or on fire rule. I might implement it next school holidays!
ahh good thing you can discern one type of cry from another!
That way you know if you really need to stop or not :)
I suppose it might not be much comfort to know that it took me nearly nine years to complete the 700-word essay I started when my daughter was three.
Or, that for several years before she started school, I took pictures (bad ones) instead of writing because I insisted that I had to have 1/125th of a second in my life.
I hated reading about those smug mother who swore that they wrote 300-page novels by writing 15 minutes a day, or by locking themselves in the bathroom. Even when I had free time, my thoughts refused to emerge in complete sentences.
All I can say is that every time you spend even a few minutes writing, you’re asserting something about who you are and what you want to do. Keep at it and the logjam will clear, and you will have open river in front of you. Plus a lot of wonderful material to draw upon. Good luck!
I so hear you. It’s really hard with a kid. I do my best writing when she’s passed out and I won’t get the constant ‘mommy, mommy, mommy!’
I’ve had to learn the hard way that sometimes, the only way I can write is to have a notebook handy at all times. I can’t always be in front of the computer with four kids, and sometimes, I gotta “hide” from them. LOL
I’ll go outside or hole up in my room where I don’t usually go and I’ll get some quality time with my notebook, even though I hate hate HATE writing longhand. :P
And I don’t have bad kids. It’s just I get asked FOUR times a day (five if you count DH) what’s for dinner. LOL Or can they get a drink of water? Can their friend come over? Can they watch TV? Why is the sky blue? Look at this dolly’s new dress! ACK!
It’s a wonder I still have hair.
~~Becka
Oh, Rebecca, you have said it all perfectly here. That noise of distraction happens here too of course. All the time.
Wonderful post.
Oh, this post and all these comments really encapsulate the reason why I’ve been so frustrated since the second baby arrived! With one I could manage, but with two, I swear they coordinate a zone distraction strategy. Can’t imagine 4!!
Jody W.
Yeah, there I am, 10:30 on a summer holiday night, laptop in my lap, beer on the table next to me, page open, one sentence written. The 5-year-old is asleep, the 11- and 13-year-olds are in bed having book-time, and all is right with the world. And then my 16-year-old stepson comes lumbering up the stairs: “Hey, Karen, I just read the funniest thing on my buddy’s myspace!” He ignores my mad flailing at him to leave and plunks down in the chair opposite me. “No, no, you’ll love it, it’s hilarious. See, there’s this guy…”
Writing in summer is just an impossibility.
I always wondered about the sanity of those moms who weep on their kid’s first day of school. Come September, when it’s Blammo’s turn, I’ll be letting off fireworks. And when my stepson goes back to his mom’s for the school year, it’ll be at least three weeks before I even start to miss him.
Ah the fickle muse of mommyhood. My sympathies dear. You just have to plug along as best you can and snatch those magic moments when you can. Best of luck and keep writing!!
I really should complain less since I don’t have children yet to distract me, just the needy dog and, er, blogs. ;)
LOL! Love this post, Rebecca. Been there, done that so many times I don’t have enough room for all the t-shirts. ;)
Children can be great creativity killers — and they are also a wonderful form of birth control. (GGG)
Hi rebecca- How well you described that feeling being gone- snuffed out by that Mommy! Mommy!
Right on the nail head, Rebecca. As always :) Maybe your muse just realized that it wasn’t her time right then…I’m sure she’ll never desert you for good. (I read and loved Nightswimming, so she better not leave! We want more!)
aww – thanks so much Margo!! you’re too kind.
And thanks everyone for all your fantastic comments, I can see that there are a lot of us in the same boat!
You describe it so well!
It also reminded me of the rare occasions when my husband and I might try and get a few quick gropes in bed. The call of ‘Mummy’ has to be the biggest passion-killer going.