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Sunday, March 6, 2011

What I'm Doing When I'm Not Writing

“It's hell writing and it's hell not writing. The only tolerable state is having just written.” —Robert Hass

Recently, dissatisfied with my income from editing and proofreading out of my home, I took a part-time job teaching three to five mornings a week. Including the commute, it takes only four hours and 20 minutes of my time each day I work. The plan was that I would leave the house after the boys went to school, return home two hours before they got back, and during those two hours I would write. By juggling my schedule creatively, I would increase my income with minimal loss of precious writing time, though I would be noticeably busier at other times of the day. And night.

The plan hasn’t worked out that well. Instead I find myself squandering my two writing hours, unable to disengage from the outside world and enter the space in my head where I write. I’m sure it can be done, that there is some trick or trigger that could get me there. I’m sure it’s a matter of discipline, which I thought I had, but now am no longer convinced of.

I once read about a writer who uses the sound of a gong that begins Zen practice to begin her writing practice. In a Pavlovian way, she has trained herself that the sound of the gong means it is time to clear her mind and start writing. She even uses a virtual gong tone she found online so she can enter writing consciousness at her desk in front of her PC.(I was going to put the link here but I can’t seem to locate it now.) Anyway, it turns out this method doesn’t work for me.

So what is it that I’m doing instead of writing? I check my email, my blog hits, my website hits. Then I do the ironing I was saving to do at the same time that I supervise homework, since I can answer math questions and listen to oral reading assignments and still iron at the same time, but I cannot write at the same time. Then I check my email again, because someone might have sent me fabulous news in the last 45 minutes, maybe the link to a gong tone, right? Next I work on editing a paper for a client, even though I was planning to do that later in the evening after the boys have gone to bed, since I can edit when not completely fresh but can’t seem to write then. And then the boys are home and the chance to write is gone.

This week the wise poet Mari L’Esperance posted the following on her Facebook update: The avoidance of writing is akin to an avoidance of death. To write is to actively acknowledge the possibility and limitation of language and, correspondingly, of oneself in this lifetime...

Oh, so that’s what I’m doing when I’m not writing. I knew it wasn’t really about folding the laundry or writing lesson plans.

Later Mari L’Esperance added this in the comments section of her Facebook update: One could also say that writing all the time is also a kind of avoidance of death...

The combination of L’Esperance’s seemingly contradictory observations are what I think Robert Hass meant by “The only tolerable state is having just written.”

Now it is Sunday morning. My husband took the boys out for the morning and will bring them home after lunch. He is giving me time to write. I put on my book-shaped earrings (this is the first time I have attempted a physical talisman) and will settle in to write seriously some poetry. As soon as I finish updating my blog, as though the insightful and concise words of Robert Hass and Mari L’Esperance could ever be improved upon by my recursive ruminations……

Well, hello there, Death.

9 comments:

Mari said...

Thanks for this, Jessica! And I wish we didn't live an ocean apart so we could meet for tea and have an analog conversation about this topic that has been much on my mind of late...

Sandy Longhorn said...

Hi, Jessica. I'm a full-time teacher at a community college with a 5/5 load. Finding time to write and be in the head space of poetry was a real struggle until I flipped the schedule. I teach int he afternoons now and write in the mornings three days a week. I wonder if that would work for you? Also, thanks so much for the idea about the chime/gong. Lovely thought.

drew said...

LOVE the Hass quote. So true.

I recently found your blog, thanks to Mari via Facebook. Tangled webs weave and lead to literary gems.

Jessica Goodfellow said...

Hi Mari, Thanks for stopping by my blog. Next time you are in Japan (which could be this year, yes?) maybe we can meet face-to-face. That would be fun.

Jessica Goodfellow said...

Hi Sandy,
Thanks for your comment. You make a great point; maybe I should write BEFORE I get out of my head in the morning, and then enter the world instead of trying to exit the world later in the day. Classes end in two weeks so I'll have a chance to try out your idea then. Thanks! P.S. Found your blog, and love the substance in it. So many blogs are superficial, as the medium easily encourages, but yours has real content.

Jessica Goodfellow said...

Hi Drew,
The Hass quote encapsulates it perfectly, doesn't it? You might already know that Robert Hass leads some readings at Berkeley called Lunch Poems, which are worth listening to. I downloaded them to my iPod and enjoy them during my commute. I hope to blog on the subject some day.

Jessica Goodfellow said...

Oh, and I should have added, Drew, following Mari is a great strategy. Wherever she goes is worth being (I don't mean this blog of course. I mean in general.)

Mari said...

Jessica, you're very kind, but my life is duller than dishwater these days. However, I do go to amazing places in my mind...! : ) I would enjoy connecting in person if I make it to Kobe in the fall, which is a goal. I was born there and haven't been back in many, many years (the last time was a very brief visit in 1987). I'll keep you posted. In the meantime, keep writing these terrific posts! Thank our stars for the Internet...

Sandy Longhorn said...

Wow, Jessica, thanks for the kind words about the blog. It's been a joy to write and I'm glad others have found it useful.