Taking classes this semester while working full-time is killing my writing schedule. I’m anxious for May to get here so I no longer have to worry about writing papers for class, but rather write journal entries, poetry, flash fiction, and blogs! This semester has been filled with research papers and answering specific questions, leaving my creativity on the back burner for another time. In one of the recent papers I had to develop, I was able to show my opinion rather than keep it straight forward and display only the facts surrounding the subject. I enjoy writing what I know, especially when I feel strongly about the subject at hand.
I seem to never have time to sit down and write for myself and personal pleasure. I have been making my way through a couple of the writing books I began reading at the beginning of the semester, and I’m looking forward to finishing those and apply the principles to my own writing. I’m working on my writing schedule, and jotting down my ideas that could one day turn into a novel. That’s one of my problems – I have so many ideas that could turn into something huge. I have to remember to write them down immediately. I carry 3 notebooks with me at all times, keeping them easily accessible. I like having my pick of which one to write in. My fave? Moleskine, by far.
Anyway. I have a journal by my bed, and I keep staring at it before I lie down. I need to just suck it up and start writing something – anything – every night before bed. I also think writing first thing in the morning would help jump start my creativity, because I find myself waking up thinking about the crazy dreams I’ve had. My dreams are so vivid that they sometimes stick with me for weeks. The ones I want to write about seem to slip away within a few hours of being awake. This is why I must make time for writing in the morning, I think. Here’s to hoping I can stick to it!
When do you write for pleasure? Do you have a schedule, and if so, what time works best for your personal creativity? Do share, I’m curious!
Writing has been a part of my life since I was very young. I can remember when I would seclude myself in my bedroom as a kid, lock the door, and sit at my desk to write for hours. I would write what I called “songs” (now I look back and realize they were actually poems, with repeating verses), short stories, and letters to friends that lived on the other side of town.
I have always loved having a pen in my hand – I still feel the same way. I catch a lot of grief about wanting to write things down in a notebook versus putting them on my laptop, but some people don’t understand how therapeutic it is for me to physically write my thoughts down.
I have recently picked up a couple of books (recommended to me by my lovely fellow writing friend, Tyne) to help give me the tools I need to get back into writing for myself – Time to Write, Thinking Write, and Living Write – by Kelly L. Stone. First – she is fantastic. She has a master’s degree in counseling, and has been a freelancing novelist and writer, and combines the world of psychology with the world of writing. Second – her books are an inspiration. After picking up Time to Write, I have discovered I truly do have “the burning desire to write.”
I am trying to make time to write more every single day, even if it is for only 15 minutes at a time. Having the burning desire to write will give me the push I need to become a successful writer, and will motivate me to spend time each morning, afternoon, or evening penning my thoughts down. I have a desire to write more fiction, so each day I’m working on a fiction piece, as well as poetry. I do find it difficult to clear time every single day to get my ideas on paper, but if I make the effort, I know it will be very rewarding.
Ethan trudged through the several inches of freshly fallen snow, as he passed the church. He was bundled head to toe, his body attempting to avoid the arctic wind coming from the lake. Sarah was a few steps behind him. She was weaving through people like a taxi in a traffic jam. If only she didn’t need all that shit she’s carrying! His thoughts were at the tip of his tongue. His mind was threatened their release upon further irritation. His thoughts were interrupted by a piercing scream. “ETHAAAAAAN!” What now, he asked himself. He then turned around when he reached the corner, and was speechless.
“Ethan! Get back here and help me!” Sarah shrieked at him. She was on one foot, trying desperately to hold her Gucci purse, briefcase, two shopping bags, and boot in one hand, while using her other hand to hold on to the light pole. “My D & G’s!” came squeaking out in between her sobs. Ethan came running up. He grabbed her bags and had her hold on to his arm to give her balance. The heel broke off her boot. Fantastic. This is just what I need when we’re already running late! His mind was interrupted by her hyperventilating.
“They…they… they’re ruined!” she wailed. A few passersby stopped to stare for a moment. Crazy people that yell were everywhere. They were considered a part of the scene in a city like this. The audience hurried along their way when the light changed.
“Come on Sarah, quit being so dramatic. You can get another pair…” He had to choose his words carefully, or he would say something to piss her off. “Is your ankle ok?”
“I don’t care about my ankle! I loved these boots!” Of course she doesn’t care about her ankle. Must not hurt that much. I swear, if she cared half as much about me and her life as she does about those damn boots and bags, things might actually work out.
“I told you not to wear those today. You saw the weather forecast with me! You shoulda listened!” His voice turned sour as his frustration became harder to control. She tried to interrupt him. She was cut off quickly.
“What!? You knew what you were getting into. You better tough it out. We’re almost to my building! I’ll carry your things, hang on to my arm and let’s get going! It’s freezing out here!” She’s about to hit my last nerve. I don’t know how much longer I…
Sarah slapped him. He was brought back to reality quite quickly. He was dumbfounded. After all I do, this is what happens? “What the hell is wrong with you? I’m trying to help –“
“You are not helping! You are being rude! Get me a taxi so I don’t have to spend another minute with you! You can walk!” I can walk? Really? Taxi!
He stood there, so still that you barely saw his breath in the frigid air. “Are you serious?” he finally mustered. “You want a cab? When we’re not even 10 blocks away? Because you don’t want to spend another minute with ME? Unbelievable, Sarah. I’ve just about had it.”
“Had it with what?!” she shot back hastily. It really didn’t matter how she sounded, the outcome would still be the same.
“Had it with this – what are we even doing here?! I’m always catering to your unappreciative ass, making sure I work overtime every single week to take you to your expensive restaurants, and to your designer shops…” his words were dripping with anger, resentment, frustration, and pure hatred. “I just… I can’t do this anymore! You never say thank you, you never tell me you love me anymore, and I feel like you just use me!”
Sarah rolled her eyes. “How in the hell do I use you? I don’t need you, in case you didn’t know! I can do just fine on my own!” Yeah, right, Ethan mumbled. Oops. Did I say that out loud? “Look – I used to care a lot about you. The last couple years you have just drained me. I have been trying to figure out a way to say this, but I avoided it for so long… I thought maybe if…”
“Maybe if what? Maybe if you pretended to love me? Pretended to care? What the hell is your problem?! I’m so done with you! You better pack your stuff and leave as soon as we get back!” she yelled, avoiding his gaze.
“Me, pack my stuff, in MY PLACE?!” Ethan couldn’t believe his ears. She was trying to kick him out of his own place. “I don’t think so!”
Their fight on the street lasted another forty-five minutes. It ended with an angry Sarah being hauled away by the cop who happened to pass by just as she went to stab him with her broken stiletto heel. She screamed at Ethan. She shouted everything from “I love you, don’t do this” to “you’re such a pig, I hate you!” He just stood on the street corner and let his hands fall to his side. He was completely flabbergasted. The police took her to a hotel. He would have a night free of bitching. A night free of her incessant moaning. A night free of his utter unhappiness. He was for sure that after this incident, they were through. Ethan readjusted his scarf and hat, put his gloves back on. He continued home, where he immediately packed a bag and wrote Sarah a quick note.
I’m finished. We have to talk later, because I can’t deal with how things are going anymore. I’m going over to Josh’s for a few hours, so you should pack your things and go stay with your sister. I think we need a few days to cool off – don’t call or text me, please. I need to clear my head and think about things. I’m sorry.
He slowly put the pen down on the kitchen counter, and stood up straight. Ethan knew it was over, but it was the best thing to do. He took the note and placed it on the table in the foyer. With that, he took a deep breath and walked out the door.