I reckon my Interrupter (let’s call her Madge) considers my Intentions as the interruptions 🤣
I have been intending to get back to writing (albeit my scribbles are very rudimentary), but Madge has me busy making mountains of sourdough biscuits and cakes and bread for my adult children and my grandchildren. She has me slogging away at the day job three days a week, which leaves me exhausted in every sense. She has me tuning into various binge-watchable TV shows, contemplating the garden, hugging the dogs.
She has me deciding to wash the sheets, the towels, the teatowels.
In my consious mind, all of this is subconscious compost for whatever I may eventually write.
But is it?
I am getting older, and life is short.
I may have to give Madge a redundancy package soon. If she will take it. 🤣
But your writing Maya is precious. I actually quoted / paraphrased some of your words in my brief speech at my son’s wedding. People are still telling me what a good speech it was, five months on!
So I hope your Interrupter takes a back seat because we need more of your writing! ❤️
A client would come into her shop, complaining of "dishpan hands." Madge would immediately recommend Palmolive liquid detergent ("Softens hands while you do the dishes") and plunge the client's hands into a bowl of soapy water. When the client expressed mild skepticism about the product, Madge would announce, "You're soaking in it!"
I imagine you soaking in Madge's intrusive, disruptive, unwanted interruptions, then standing up, stepping back, and presenting her with that redundancy package.
Oh, the interruptor! She comes in so many guises. The need to care for others. The garden, so vulnerable to the elements. Painting, because I've committed so many resources to materials and supplies that I've obligated myself to that which used to bring me joy. Cooking, because it's fun and stress-relieving and obviously productive. In the end, I prioritize everything above myself. Wrong choice.
I will chase the interrupter around my house for most of a day if I stay in my house. I had almost a month off between my seasonal jobs and still had full-time childcare for my kids, but it was a rare day when I spent more than two hours really writing. Dishes, laundry, berry picking in the backyard (because they would be rotting soon), running (in part to clear my head for writing, in part out of guilt about keeping my dog inside all day)-- I could find productive ways to procrastinate all morning. In the afternoon, I felt like lying down with a book, because reading and writing is like breathing in and out, right? Then I felt like a nap. Because I needed energy to deal with my kids in a couple hours.
Now I'm at the library, for two hours between working at the school and picking up my kids. No laundry, dishes, dog, or napping here. That helps. But there's still email. Thankfully I found this post, and will be getting to the real thing right after I say how much I appreciated this.
I hope you *are* writing because I loved the pace, stone, and style of this comment so much! Thank YOU, Jake, for sharing a glimpse of your life with me.
It’s as if you had a hidden camera in my house today. I realize I need to be ok sitting down at the desk even when I don’t sense any angel of inspiration there with me.
I'm working on it, still. I wrote my "Draft Story" of 18 pages as a time capsule memoir before I entered dual treatment for myeloma and kidney failure at the ende of 2021. I know that if I flesh out this story, it will not only increase in volume, but Oh! The places [I'll] go! My physical body often doesn't offer much stamina for such intensity.
Boy did I need that today - just ahead of a weekend when I hope to sit with myself for some much needed creative solitude. I know the interruptor will be close at hand. Thank you for the reminder to resist!
I have been thinking about this. How does an artist paint the windows black? I have read that Steven King plays loud rock and roll music while he writes. In Steinbeck's "Journal of a Novel", he tells about threatening the neighbor's gardener for running a lawn mower or something...not sure they had leaf blowers back then...while he was trying to write. Rick Rubin talks about the importance of a "silent space" in his book "The Creative Act: A way of Being". And I think there is a ritual aspect to the habit of creation. Such as Hemingway sharpening seven #2 Black Warrior pencils each day before beginning.
Maya, my most seductive procrastination is tidying. I will tidy the desk, rearrange the pencils in the drawer and post-its on the wall. My eagle eye will squint to ensure everything is aligned pleasingly. Then I will turn to my computer and take on the task of organising that desktop - and of course the irony is that my creative impulse doesn't kick in amid such organisation! I need to tip toe somewhere quiet, curl up and turn my attention inward. Thank you for another wonderful post, this time catching so accurately the trickster in our midst.
My intimate interrupter takes many guises. When I intend to work on my novel, she beguiles me with poems. When I intend to write a poem, she reminds me that there are comments on my last poem that I still haven’t read, and don’t I owe it to my readers to do so before galavanting off to write the next thing? Regrettably, she’s also very interested in the New York Times - albeit, mostly just the headlines and the word games. And she’s convinced that if I go a day without exercise and home cooked meals, I’ll keel over on the spot. It’s sweet of her to be so concerned about me.
Yes please to that! I think there’s such an interesting discussion to be had here. As a single parent and person with chronic illness, I have to be flexible with myself. Rules like “I will write for X hours every day” don’t work for me. But flexibility can definitely go too far!! I can become quite the contortionist.
Thank you for this, Maya. So timely for me, as I’ve been juggling various projects & priorities and struggling to find those precious carved-out writing stretches. I’ll be reflecting on your words for awhile. But not too long, as I’ve got my own to write ;).
I love Mary Oliver, wishing I lived near her, wake up with the first morning rays, walk the beach, see her and simply nod,… that would have been a momentous interruption, enough to inspire me to keep writing ✍️ helping open my eyes to the wild and quiet beauty of nature 🌱 thank you for sharing. 💎
Just last evening I was imagining your writing practice. Thinking ~ “does Maya have to discipline herself by setting aside designated times and/or places to write?” Though I too struggle with the intimate interruptor, I often try to fight it by just going through all of my folders until something I’m working on tugs at me. Also yesterday, using this method, I was able to flesh out several quatrains and develop/give new direction to a poem I had begun months ago. The poem went from comparing cilantro to soap, to go deeper into the villainizing of immigrants and now it needs more, but that poem has at least changed its status level. Thanks for this post of confirmation!
I reckon my Interrupter (let’s call her Madge) considers my Intentions as the interruptions 🤣
I have been intending to get back to writing (albeit my scribbles are very rudimentary), but Madge has me busy making mountains of sourdough biscuits and cakes and bread for my adult children and my grandchildren. She has me slogging away at the day job three days a week, which leaves me exhausted in every sense. She has me tuning into various binge-watchable TV shows, contemplating the garden, hugging the dogs.
She has me deciding to wash the sheets, the towels, the teatowels.
In my consious mind, all of this is subconscious compost for whatever I may eventually write.
But is it?
I am getting older, and life is short.
I may have to give Madge a redundancy package soon. If she will take it. 🤣
But your writing Maya is precious. I actually quoted / paraphrased some of your words in my brief speech at my son’s wedding. People are still telling me what a good speech it was, five months on!
So I hope your Interrupter takes a back seat because we need more of your writing! ❤️
Madge. That's perfect.
Do you remember Madge the manicurist?
A client would come into her shop, complaining of "dishpan hands." Madge would immediately recommend Palmolive liquid detergent ("Softens hands while you do the dishes") and plunge the client's hands into a bowl of soapy water. When the client expressed mild skepticism about the product, Madge would announce, "You're soaking in it!"
I imagine you soaking in Madge's intrusive, disruptive, unwanted interruptions, then standing up, stepping back, and presenting her with that redundancy package.
Good luck.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YdDJjyUpXyE
🤣 Thankyou! I do remember the ad byline “you’re soaking in it” 🤣.
I think I subconsciously had in mind Madge Allsop (Australian reference) - the name of all annoying offsiders 🤣
https://youtu.be/AVtW5UDFNgI?si=r7t5J8faei-a7ZX8
This made my evening. Thank you so much—I adored your writing about Madge, and then was so, so touched by the rest. 💛
Oh, the interruptor! She comes in so many guises. The need to care for others. The garden, so vulnerable to the elements. Painting, because I've committed so many resources to materials and supplies that I've obligated myself to that which used to bring me joy. Cooking, because it's fun and stress-relieving and obviously productive. In the end, I prioritize everything above myself. Wrong choice.
I wish I could park myself in your living room with a cup of tea and discuss all of this with you in person! One day 💕
Me too!!!
I will chase the interrupter around my house for most of a day if I stay in my house. I had almost a month off between my seasonal jobs and still had full-time childcare for my kids, but it was a rare day when I spent more than two hours really writing. Dishes, laundry, berry picking in the backyard (because they would be rotting soon), running (in part to clear my head for writing, in part out of guilt about keeping my dog inside all day)-- I could find productive ways to procrastinate all morning. In the afternoon, I felt like lying down with a book, because reading and writing is like breathing in and out, right? Then I felt like a nap. Because I needed energy to deal with my kids in a couple hours.
Now I'm at the library, for two hours between working at the school and picking up my kids. No laundry, dishes, dog, or napping here. That helps. But there's still email. Thankfully I found this post, and will be getting to the real thing right after I say how much I appreciated this.
I hope you *are* writing because I loved the pace, stone, and style of this comment so much! Thank YOU, Jake, for sharing a glimpse of your life with me.
i reorganised my bookshelves today! words are never far away, even in interruption.
It’s as if you had a hidden camera in my house today. I realize I need to be ok sitting down at the desk even when I don’t sense any angel of inspiration there with me.
Thank you, Maya!
So much love, Angela.
I'm working on it, still. I wrote my "Draft Story" of 18 pages as a time capsule memoir before I entered dual treatment for myeloma and kidney failure at the ende of 2021. I know that if I flesh out this story, it will not only increase in volume, but Oh! The places [I'll] go! My physical body often doesn't offer much stamina for such intensity.
I’m wishing you every good wish for your health AND writing!
It’s so hard when your heart is pulling for something but your body can’t keep up! ❤️
"Stained with light" is a fantastic phrase, thanks for passing it along. Keep up the great work!
Thank you!!!!
Boy did I need that today - just ahead of a weekend when I hope to sit with myself for some much needed creative solitude. I know the interruptor will be close at hand. Thank you for the reminder to resist!
💛💛💛
When Sylvester Stallone was writing Rocky, he painted the inside of his apartment windows black.
Wait, this is brilliant. Thank you for sharing this with me.
I have been thinking about this. How does an artist paint the windows black? I have read that Steven King plays loud rock and roll music while he writes. In Steinbeck's "Journal of a Novel", he tells about threatening the neighbor's gardener for running a lawn mower or something...not sure they had leaf blowers back then...while he was trying to write. Rick Rubin talks about the importance of a "silent space" in his book "The Creative Act: A way of Being". And I think there is a ritual aspect to the habit of creation. Such as Hemingway sharpening seven #2 Black Warrior pencils each day before beginning.
I might have to do that!
how is it the words you write are ALWAYS the very ones I need to read? :) XO
Love to hear this!!! 💛
Exactly what I needed to read at this very moment. Thank you!
Maya, my most seductive procrastination is tidying. I will tidy the desk, rearrange the pencils in the drawer and post-its on the wall. My eagle eye will squint to ensure everything is aligned pleasingly. Then I will turn to my computer and take on the task of organising that desktop - and of course the irony is that my creative impulse doesn't kick in amid such organisation! I need to tip toe somewhere quiet, curl up and turn my attention inward. Thank you for another wonderful post, this time catching so accurately the trickster in our midst.
Thank you so much for sharing, Frances. Yes—the tidying is absolutely a productive procrastination!
My intimate interrupter takes many guises. When I intend to work on my novel, she beguiles me with poems. When I intend to write a poem, she reminds me that there are comments on my last poem that I still haven’t read, and don’t I owe it to my readers to do so before galavanting off to write the next thing? Regrettably, she’s also very interested in the New York Times - albeit, mostly just the headlines and the word games. And she’s convinced that if I go a day without exercise and home cooked meals, I’ll keel over on the spot. It’s sweet of her to be so concerned about me.
She is SO RELATABLE, Lisa. We should talk about this in Office Hours—I feel like we all need to acknowledge our intimate interruptor.
Yes please to that! I think there’s such an interesting discussion to be had here. As a single parent and person with chronic illness, I have to be flexible with myself. Rules like “I will write for X hours every day” don’t work for me. But flexibility can definitely go too far!! I can become quite the contortionist.
💛💛💛
Thank you for this, Maya. So timely for me, as I’ve been juggling various projects & priorities and struggling to find those precious carved-out writing stretches. I’ll be reflecting on your words for awhile. But not too long, as I’ve got my own to write ;).
Wishing you the best with your own writing, Nelson!
Cheers, Maya! Really grateful for all you’re offering in this space.
I love Mary Oliver, wishing I lived near her, wake up with the first morning rays, walk the beach, see her and simply nod,… that would have been a momentous interruption, enough to inspire me to keep writing ✍️ helping open my eyes to the wild and quiet beauty of nature 🌱 thank you for sharing. 💎
Just last evening I was imagining your writing practice. Thinking ~ “does Maya have to discipline herself by setting aside designated times and/or places to write?” Though I too struggle with the intimate interruptor, I often try to fight it by just going through all of my folders until something I’m working on tugs at me. Also yesterday, using this method, I was able to flesh out several quatrains and develop/give new direction to a poem I had begun months ago. The poem went from comparing cilantro to soap, to go deeper into the villainizing of immigrants and now it needs more, but that poem has at least changed its status level. Thanks for this post of confirmation!
💛💛💛