Now is the only time you have…

a&pI thought I’d circle back to telling you about how I got my doctoral dissertation written.

When Annie and Pearl were really tiny, four or five months old, we took them to Spokane to visit their grandmother. We had Thanksgiving dinner at my husband’s brother’s house. My sister-in-law was at that time a Dean at Whitworth College. She wanted to hear how I was managing graduate school alongside infant twins.

I was finished with coursework. “Wonderful,” Tammy told me. “So all you have to do is write the dissertation.”

I was teaching two classes that fall, and felt that I had plenty to do without writing. I cheerfully reported that I thought I’d wait until the babies were older to start writing. “When they’re old enough for preschool, or even Kindergarten. Then I’ll have lots of time. It will be easier!”

Tammy’s eyes grew wide and for a moment she simply listened to me babble on. When I stopped talking she said, “No, you will not have more time. It will be different, but it won’t be easier. If you’re ever going to write it, you need to write it now.”

It was not a smooth transition. It took me months to find my feet in the damn thing, and months more to establish a writing routine. I can credit my sister-in-law, however, and that Thanksgiving visit as the moment when I made the mental — and emotional — decision to get cracking.

The picture is of me with the girls on their first day of Kindergarten. My sister-in-law was right — it was different, and it wasn’t easier, but at least I didn’t have a dissertation to write. That was finished when they were two-and-a-half.

Permission Granted

I was talking to a friend the other day, another writer, about our respective novels (yes, Beverly, you really DO have a novel underway!), and it made me reflect yet again on my work habits.

What was it at the retreat in New York that allowed me to write? I think it was the extent to which I felt as though I had permission to write. I still had my on-line classes, after all. And if my husband and daughters (and my mother) were 3000 miles away, I still had them to worry about. I still watched some television (on my laptop) in the evenings. I read about five novels. (Silly Bethany.) But I got up every morning, opened my manuscript, read, and — eventually — wrote. I spent hours and hours on the manuscript every day. In my journal I wrote about the manuscript. At night, I dreamed about it!

Now I’m getting deja vu’ — I think I’m guilty of having told you this before. But this is what I’m thinking this morning: Couldn’t I, now, though I’m at home (at the Mukilteo Public Library actually), give myself permission to write?

sisters3What can I do today to give myself permission to do the work that I want to do? What can you do?

“one had to do some work every day…”

Just the other night, lying awake and worrying, I thought of this quotation. It used to hang on my office wall, over my desk, but that was a couple of offices ago. I couldn’t remember the exact words. And then today, tidying my office (with a goal of creating space to write in, if only for a few minutes each afternoon), I found it. Funny how that works.

“I loved the family and everything to do with them…We lived a life of work and the children were brought up in it, in the middle of the dust and the dirt and the paint and everything….I found one had to do some work every day, even at midnight, because either you’re a professional or you’re not.” –Barbara Hepworth (mother of four children, including triplets)

A 13

Blog Hop

bullis

I’ve agreed to be “tagged” in a blog hop! It’s not the first time I’ve been asked, but this time around, I decided that I’m never going to be asked at a time of leisure. (When would that be, anyway?) So I said “yes.” I hope you’ll visit Jennifer Bullis’s blog, Poetry at the Intersection of Mythology and Hiking, and read her post today (Jan. 29). I’ll be adding my 2 cents on February 15.