Sage Cohen's Blog, page 16

What if you were to stop trying so hard?

When I was growing up, my father and brother seemed to have information directly ported to their brains from some source that had all the academic test and Trivial Pursuit answers. I, on the other hand, would spend hours every night laboring over my homework, dedicating my entire being to the comprehension of topics such as algebra and biology that were non-native to my poetic dream-state. And, it paid off. I excelled in school–even in subjects where I had no foundational ease or even basic understanding. I came to understand that anything that gets enough time and attention is likely to at least push out a little leaf and flower. (Except for map skills, which has always been a barren wasteland no matter how hard I try.)

Because this strategy of extreme performance exertion was so successful, I repeated it in every aspect of my life for many, many years. It has enabled me to create and sustain my own business, buy my own house and even create enough margin to pursue my true calling: writing poems and books and essays and innumerable thank you notes on the side. For the past two and a half years, I have even had the incredible privilege of working from home while raising my son. All great stuff, right? Yes, and…

While it's true that extreme performance mode has contributed to many accomplishments, it has cost me the proper nourishment of a balanced life. But even more significantly, it has reinforced the illusion that if I just work harder, I can fix it — whatever it may be. And this attitude has kept me very busy striving to fix things, some of which were simply were beyond repair. And, paradoxically, by trying so hard to make things better, I would often actually cement what was broken through my persistent attentions.

Let me give you an example. For years and years, I would sit at my desk and push and push and push to figure out how to solve some problem in a piece of writing. Then I'd get up to pour a fresh cup of tea, look for the mail, pet a cat and BAM: the solution presented itself as if it had been waiting all day to reveal itself to me. All it needed was a little breathing room to find its own way. Did this teach me to trust ease? No way. Not for at least a decade. It took me thousands of attempts to force things that weren't solvable by force––and would then simply, mysteriously work themselves out when left alone––for that incredibly stubborn cartoon light bulb to finally make an appearance over my head. Duh, said it's caption. You made this ten times harder than it had to be. Can we stop this silliness, now?

I'm not saying don't work hard. But I am saying that you're not serving yourself, your writing or your readers when you make any part of your writing life harder than it has to be.

What I want you to consider when you get stuck next time, or any time, is this possibility: if it can be fixed quickly and relatively easily, it's fixable. If it can't, move on. By simply ignoring a problem, you may find that it is far simpler to fix a little later. And, if it's never solved, so be it. With all of the time and energy you have freed up in surrendering this particular struggle, you will likely solve at least ten other, far more fixable problems.

Do you know what I'm talking about? Has this happened to you? What have your surprising paradoxes been as you explore the contradictions between hard work and ease?

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Infuse your muse with the *Writing the Life Poetic* e-zine

Happy second week of National Poetry Month! I hope you are are in a poetic rhythm that delights you!

Want some good company this month? I'd like to invite you to check out a publication I edit and publish: *Writing the Life Poetic*, a free, bi-monthly e-zine that delivers information and inspiration about the life poetic from these legendary, Portland-area poets: Brittany Baldwin, Kristin Berger, Dale Favier, Dave Jarecki, Christopher Luna, M, Toni Partington, Shawn Sorensen, and Steve Williams.

Below, I've dipped my cup in a bit of each April column to give you a quick feel for the WTLP e-zine. Check out the e-zine to read each column in its entirety.

NaPoWriMo by Dale Favier

Poetry on the assembly line? The whole point of poetry is that it's lovingly crafted, not slapped together. Oh, everyone has luck sometimes, a poem that comes out, first time, exactly right, but most good poems are worked, over days or weeks or years. What's the good of churning out a whole slew of raw, or at best half-cooked, poems?

April Poetry Prompt by M and Steve Williams

Many of us feel nostalgia, particularly when we realize that an ordinary object from our past, one that was commonly found or commonly used by many people, even whole populations, no longer exists in that particular form. Following is a poem (which we found in Rattle #31, Summer 2009) that addresses nostalgia for an item that most young people today, chatting and texting on their cell phones, have only heard about from their parents, read about in books or seen in movies.

One Man Band by Kristin Berger

A blooming pink night light holds darkness at bay, crickets rubbing a convincing lullaby from the sound machine. Everyone is asleep, but he is writing a poem about Great Things: Rain. Puppy. Pond. Treats. Black ball-point letters appear, his 4-year old fingers forming whole words before they have been tested by his tongue, teeth and lips. Maps and sketches fill the margins.  He tells a story in one of the only ways he knows how.



Giving Means Getting, Sometimes by Toni Partington

When I'm coaching clients who feel frantic and exhausted, they chalk it up to lack of control over daily life. Hours are gobbled by commitments, last minute requests, and chaos. Even with a plan, the hours are fleeting. I ask, who is deciding how you'll use your energy? They balk, "Really, I'm in charge of my mental and physical energy." Yes, I nod, but do you get sidetracked and end up wondering what happened? How about determining what to use it on, and what truly doesn't need all you give?

Solitude Still Burns by Brittany Baldwin

Snow is falling this morning and it brings me back to my mornings writing in Colorado during my early twenties. Before the business I had one art to master that I had been working on furiously since childhood. Those mornings were just me, the cat, a cup of tea. I purposely holed up my junior and senior year in a studio apartment writing, listening to music, haunting the library and the ongoing foreign film festival. In my workshops at school I spoke little to avoid the arrogant and competitive back and forth that occurs in college workshops, it also kept the silence I was building between them and me.

Discover New Poetry Markets and Get Published by Shawn Sorensen

I just finished the how-to classic A Poet's Companion by Dorianne Laux and Kim Addonizio (see my review on www.goodreads.com).  One of the big messages in the book is the more feedback, the better.  It doesn't mean we always want, like or need feedback – you're the final decision-maker regarding your work – but being open to feedback increases the chance that you say what you want to say on the page.

The Etiquette of the Featured Reading, Part 1 by Christopher Luna

Everything changes for a poet once she lands her first featured reading. Although the open mic is crucial to developing one's voice and performance acumen, being invited to read is an important milestone. The featured reader is acknowledged for having created a body of work that is cohesive and worthy of additional time. This extra time is, in fact, necessary for understanding the poet's thematic concerns and her relationship to the craft.

When in Doubt, Write by Sage Cohen

Of course, there are dozens of "practical" reasons not to pursue poetry or a writing life of any kind. It's not likely to pay the rent or mortgage, at least for a while, and no one at your job may give a whit about your affinity for Whitman. The good news is this: No one needs to care about the writing you love other than you.

Read the April issue of the WTLP zine here!

View the Writing the Life Poetic Archives.

Learn more about the WTLP zine and its spectacular columnists. And, sign up to receive your bi-monthly issue by email.

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making time for writing: part 6

TAKE A TIME-OUT

I believe in signs. That's why, when my ten-month-old son pulled the book Sabbath: Restoring the Sacred Rhythm of Rest by Wayne Muller off the shelf for the third time, I decided it was time to read it.

Guilty of preaching something akin to Sabbath in my book Writing the Life Poetic, but infrequently practicing it, this book gave me a good kick in the pants which landed me squarely on the couch with my feet up.

Lo and behold, on that fateful Saturday, I took a day off from my computer. When my son Theo napped, I napped. Our family took a leisurely trip to the pool. My husband and I cooked a meal together. I felt like a human being instead of a human doing.

Muller credits Brother David Steindl-Rast for reminding us that the Chinese pictograph for busy is composed of two characters: heart and killing. This stopped me in my tracks. I, like almost everyone I know, am chronically, overwhelmingly busy. Muller proposes that a day of rest gives us the replenishment we need to live our lives well. To solve our problems creatively. To nourish our hearts—and in our case, dear reader, our writing.

That day of Sabbath was such a success that my husband and I committed to a family Sabbath every Saturday in which all work comes to a halt and the family simply relaxes, enjoys each other, and follows the threads of curiosity and delight wherever they might lead us.

The paradoxical good news for all of us overachievers is that slowing down actually produces more: work, joy, equilibrium, love. I wonder if rest may be all we need to replenish our creative wells when they run dry. Sometimes moving toward a desired goal begins with first moving away from it.

HONOR YOUR TIME, SO THAT OTHERS CAN

Let's do some expectation setting here: No one in your family or community of friends is likely to have any idea what your writing life is all about. It's not that they won't want to support you; it's just that they won't know how.

Years ago, when I was employed as a writer on a marketing team for a company, the woman whose job it was to track and ship inventory reported me to my boss. According to her, I was "just sitting at my desk, staring out the window and doing nothing all day." The reality was that I was producing newsletters, articles, and brochures at an unprecedented rate and speed. And the other reality is that people who don't write don't necessarily understand that there is often reading, thinking, and rumination involved in the writing process—and this may not look like much to the casual observer.

People who don't write may not be able to imagine that you really and truly want to be in the closet with the door shut for three hours without talking to anyone. When you leave for that desperately anticipated writing retreat, don't take it personally when everyone you know wants to "come on vacation" with you.

The good news is that everyone who loves you can and will learn about your writing life if you are willing to teach them—and hold the line for yourself. All you need to worry about is being clear about the time you need and asking the people close to you for support in respecting that time. Like any limit setting, you are likely to be tested for a while.

I'd suggest adding to your arsenal this phrase, delivered with a smile: "Sure, I'd be happy to do [whatever has been requested] at [time] when I'm finished my writing. I'll see you then!" They might protest, but you can simply close the door and emerge at the time you have promised. I know you can. And the more practice you have with this, the easier it will get for you and everyone around you.

WE ARE NOT GIVEN TIME TO WRITE; WE TAKE IT

I remember as a young person reading somewhere that parents don't give you independence; you have to take it. I think that same premise holds true for establishing oneself as a writer. When you decide to write, the universe does not say, "How wonderful that you fancy yourself a writer, I'll give you three hours off of your job every day so you can fulfill your destiny." The reality is that it's up to you to create your writing time, to claim it, as if your blustery, teenage know-it-all self's future depends on it.

This is the last in the series of six posts about making the most of your writing time. You can check out the rest of the series by choosing the productive writing category.

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Happy National Poetry Month!

There's no better time than April to wet your poetic whistle. It's National Poetry Month, and around the world and the web, there are endless events, communities and opportunities where you can connect, write, and steep in poetic possibilities. I'd like to tell you about a few.

To jump-start your poetic process, consider participating in a poem-a-day challenge. Get a daily poetry prompt and join a community of poets facilitated by these amazing people:

Robert Lee Brewer's Poetic Asides
Shanna Germain's Not Without Poetry

If you're not already subscribed to the Writing the Life Poetic zine––a free, bi-monthly publication that I publish, edit and send right to your email––I encourage you to do so now. You'll get a wide range of information and inspiration about the life poetic from 10 columnists who are some of my favorite poets and people. You can subscribe right here in the right hand column, or learn more about the zine and view some archives first.

Want a deeper dive into the life poetic? April would be a great time to buy, borrow or return to your copy of Writing the Life Poetic, where you'll find tips, insights, prompts, craft guidance and quick essays about the possibilities of poetry in your ordinary, just-right-for-poetry life.

Another book I don't think you can live without: Kim Rosen's Saved by a Poem. This book has deepened, widened and broken open my heart to a new capacity for holding and receiving the spoken poem. Read it, please. You will be so grateful that you did.

Want to read poetry books and discuss them online throughout the month? Check out Dave Bonta's Poetry Month Book Club.

The Academy of American poets has all kinds of fun happening throughout April. If you want more ideas about how to infuse your month with poetry, check out their recommended 30 ways to celebrate poetry.

Experiencing poetry in a poet's own voice is such a powerful way to receive the gifts a poem has to offer. Following are three great resources for listening to poetry online:

Academy of American Poets
Poetry Foundation
From the Fishouse

And if you'd like each day infused with a single poem, why not consider signing up to receive a daily poem by e-mail from The Writer's Almanac with Garrison Keillor? It's free, it's easy, and it sure is delightful to have poems chosen for you and delivered like a little gift to your inbox every day.

I'm always grateful for you. But I'm especially grateful for you today, as we move together into this sacred month for poets. Feeling connected to other people who value what matters most to me gives me a sense of hope, clarity, purpose and family. Every moment at my desk, alone, has at its root a nectar of words, a net of stars, that holds us all.

What are you doing to celebrate National Poetry Month?

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making time for writing: part 5

TOP-TEN TIME-WASTING STRATEGIES

When you're not in a go-get-'em writing mode, the most important thing to do is keep your creative engine warm and running. The following list of possibilities is designed to help you keep your head in the game by doing things that indirectly benefit your writing life and can quickly create a feeling of either relaxation or reward.

Write a blog post: Reinforce your expertise while doing a little fun, informal writing.
Visit your online community. Take a five-minute coffee break with other writers on Facebook and Twitter. Let their good news, struggles, questions, and insights percolate through you; chime in where and when you are moved to do so. Notice any seeds of new ideas, projects, or collaborations taking shape in your peripheral vision.
Make order. Sort, file, and purge your in-box. Vacuum or do dishes or fold laundry. You can improve beauty and order around you while resetting whatever brain pretzel you may be locked in.
Stand up and stretch. Don't forget your fingers, neck, shoulders, and lower back. It's far easier to keep butt-in-chair if blood is flowing to it!
Do your due diligence. Enter your business expense data into QuickBooks or pay bills.
Get prepared. Update your to-do list.
Empty your mind. A quick, three-minute meditation can settle your stirred waters so you can see clear to the bottom of your soul's well again.
Manage your contacts. Add business cards and other contact information you've collected recently into your contact database, sorting and categorizing appropriately by type of audience (students, colleagues, newsletter subscribers, etc.).
Share the wealth. Visit a few favorite blogs or websites and tweet about your findings.
Call your mother (but don't open the mail while you talk; she won't like that.)
Celia Tan bonus tip: Work on another unfinished piece of writing!
Sage Cohen bonus tip: Check out  Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 and Part 4 of the Making Time for Writing series!

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A Dictionary of the Cathedral

In my devotion, the candle was dumb.

It came to me in birds.

It came to me scuffed with thrust.

It came to me withered, split.

It came to me silent as a knife, fat with treasure.

It was a feather pluming my plow,

a borrowed dress dragged to dust.

In my absence, I could not find the husk.

Shame sailed its own boats.

Moat and drawbridge, I sent my hair down.

The instructions unraveled until I was one less

person than I promised to be.

The harp would lessen my fall. It pawed

my lap like every good story. It gulped light.

Threaded with regrets, each column stands

for forgiveness, bends like a bride toward

the disappointment of her promise.

The prayer unspoken. My body

as surprising as morning before

it is broken open.

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making time for writing: part 4

PROCRASTINATE PRODUCTIVELY

"I told a friend that I was writing two romance novels simultaneously, as well as an erotic serial, and a couple of short stories, all at once (not to mention my baseball blog, tea blog, et cetera…) and she told me her head would explode if she tried to do that. I pointed out, reasonably, that she did quite well in college while taking four classes per semester, and for me that's a lot of what it is like. Some days I work more on one project, some on another. The real secret is that whenever I get blocked on one project, I can 'procrastinate' writing it by writing one of the others!"—Cecilia Tan, author of Mind Games

So you don't feel like writing. Or you're stuck on something and can't go any further right now. Or you're too tired or broke or can't find your pink slipper. Okay. You are excused. I don't do that stern schoolteacher, butt-in-chair guilt trip. In fact, I've sworn off guilt trips altogether. So how, you may wonder, is this woman going to convince me to keep up all of that good, earnest writing work?

She's not.

What I have come to trust from more than a decade of firsthand experience is that when we feel backed into a corner, we will rebel. So the more we try to force ourselves to write, the more we will resist, the less we will write, and the more frustrated and despairing we will become.

I would like to propose an alternative to this cat and mouse loop: Waste time well. If you do things that need doing—that you're actually in the mood to do—then even procrastination can be productive. One of the things you'll start to learn over time is your rhythm for settling down to make stuff happen and the times when you need to rearrange your bulletin board a few times and eat lots of cookies.

Build Wasted Time Into Your Schedule

You probably know yourself pretty well by now. If you were the kid who had your term paper finished two weeks early, you're likely to be delivering ahead of your deadlines today. And if you needed the adrenaline rush of the all-nighter to crank out an entire thingamajig the night before it was due, chances are good that you possess a very high-end coffee machine to help you keep up the good work.

I happen to be a "waste-time-while-fearing-that-I-can't-do-it" type. Always have been. No matter how many thousands of times in my life I have proven this fear incontrovertibly wrong, it persists with its own independent logic and food supply. What I have learned to do is simply accept that this is going to be part of my process, not take it so seriously, and simply build the freak-out into my making-it-happen schedule.

When I signed my first book contract, I planned for a month of floundering; and I executed this step in the schedule fabulously well. I spent that month freaking out about not being smart enough, capable enough, worthy enough to write a book, while gobbling up multiple episodes of Six Feet Under on DVD every night. Suffice it to say that within about six weeks or so, I had exhausted the entire multi-season supply of Six Feet Under, was stuffed uncomfortably full of death and dysfunction, and felt ready to shift gears.

Do you put obstacles in your own way when it comes to writing something important to you?  How might you plan to accommodate your own resistance in a way that lets it think it is winning while burning out its fuse?

Don't miss a single tip in the Making Time for Writing series! Check out Part 1, Part 2 and Part 3.

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Gratitude for all we didn't get–that we thought we wanted

I didn't get rich. I didn't get the girl. Follow me. — Leonard Cohen

Years ago at a Thanksgiving dinner with a group of friends, we went around the table each offering our own version of thanks. When it was my turn, there was an uncomfortable silence following my confession of gratitude for everyone who had hurt me and all that I didn't get that I once thought I wanted.

Let me explain. It's going to be a roundabout explanation, but I promise to get to the point by the time this post is finished.

Last night I sat down in bed, drew the comforter up over my belly, unfolded my laptop in my lap, and set out my little, yellow index card beside me. Smeared across the warped paper, it read: "Desire is a kind of blindness." Written on a dog walk earlier that day in such steady rain that I feared the note card would not receive the ink, this sentence was what I believed to be the first line of the memoir that's been gathering force in the wings for some time now. If it were a movie, there would have been a crescendo of music rising to meet my fingers at the keyboard as my first sentence hit the blank page. The thundering pulse in my ear of language-meeting-memory-groping-for form was inflating its drum roll to match the trumpets when I noticed the cat my son calls Blablio moving strangely across the bed, his lips drawn back in that snarling way that cats do when they're trying to make sense of a scent. And then the smell hit me.

Frantically, I ran my fingers in tandem with Blablio's sleuthing over my comforter until we arrived together at the scene of the crime: the watermelon-size circle of cat pee that was sitting right next to me in bed. Somehow, my hand-in-cat-pee leap from the bed attracted the two other cats and both dogs, all of whom seemed to be simultaneously catching the scent of foul play, resulting in a kind of Three Stooges-esque chaos in which, the peaceful order of the pack disrupted by this insult, splayed out into a Dominoes-type chain of inter-species aggression. I spent the next hour laundering layers of bedding, soothing and scolding various animals, searching for replacement covers, none of which were warm enough, even when piled together and wrapped around me like a sleeping bag, and–back at my computer–a little lost. Having averted the full force of the story that's been pressing its words in from the corners for months now, I seemed to have lost any thread that might lead me back in. So I tried to sleep. That didn't go so well, either.

This morning, as my son Theo climbed up onto the changing table that is now in the kitchen serving many entertainment and functional purposes — long story — and leaned against the wall to eat his blueberries as I sat across from him on the stairs, drinking my coffee, I told him the cat pee story. Not quite two and a half, my son and I don't generally sit around and chat. Ours is a house of action where trains need pushing and beds need jumping and puddles need splashing, accompanied with a bit of narration here and there. But this was different. My son was hanging on my every word. When my tale of woe was complete, he requested, "More talking, Mommy."

"About what," I countered.

"About cat pee," he giggled. And so we spent the first hour or our day in dialogue about cat pee–each pause bridged with an imploring "More talking, Mommy." And in this way, an unpleasant event through shared storytelling became a divine little life slice I am likely to always remember.

Which brings me back to my point. I didn't get what I wanted–the start of my story, the good night's sleep, the warm bed. But I got something far better, instead: my very first chatty, non-physical-needs-based conversation with my son. This would not have happened if there had been no cat pee. See what I mean?

Now this is a small example in the practice of gratitude which has also seen me through the garden variety of heartbreaks: divorce, miscarriage, death, failure. But the principle is the same: when we didn't get what we wanted, or when someone hurt us, or when we disappointed ourselves to the brink of devastation, this is not the end of the story. The pain we feel sooner or later seems to actually become a kind of transportation, and we arrive somewhere else that never could have been accessible to us without that fuel source. Somewhere even better than where we originally had our hearts set on going. And in this new place, we are anchored by wisdom. Seasoned by trust. Humbled and grateful for all we didn't get–that once we thought we wanted.

In your writing life, is there something you wanted badly and didn't get–or haven't gotten yet? I invite you to spend a few moments appreciating all of the surprising rewards that have taken root in the ground that you believed was meant for something else.

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making time for writing: part 3

YOU HAVE THE REST OF YOUR LIFE

My computer monitor looks like a root system for sticky notes; it has become host to the layers and layers of pastel-posted ideas and to-dos that I scribble and stick as they flit through my mind while working. The accumulation of such notes creates a feeling of clutter, but more uncomfortably a sinking feeling that there will simply not be enough hours in my life to accomplish everything I want to do. But I know better.

Several years ago, I took a workshop called "Falling Awake" with Dave Ellis. One of the preliminary assignments we were asked to do to prepare for the class was to chart out our major life goals for each area of our life in five-year segments. I defined my major areas as: health, finances, family, work, spirituality, and writing. And I brainstormed a mighty comprehensive list in each area.

I was 34 years old at the time. Based on average longevity of my family members, I estimated that I'd be alive with my thinking cap on until at least age 85. This gave me ten, five-year sets of time to work with.

I dove into this exercise and was intently focused on plotting out conservatively realistic deadlines for my overwhelming list of goals throughout a fifty-year time spread when suddenly I came up empty-handed. Having arrived at the thirty-fifth year in this chart—age seventy—I had run out of goals. Everything I could possibly imagine that I might want to do in my life was accomplished. Imagine that! And I still had fifteen years to work with, give or take the unpredictable bargain of mortality.

So, I scrawled across the final fifteen year segment in my most bawdy script: "Mourns death of older husband for some years (I was single at the time) before falling wildly and unexpectedly in love with a younger man."

What would life be like if you felt assured that there was plenty of time for every writing goal (and every life goal) on your dance card? What would you write (or not write) with fifteen gift years?

Make a "Rest-Of-My-Life Plan" and Plot Your Possibilities

The common wisdom is, "Live like you're going to die tomorrow." My variation on this theme for writers is, "Write like you have the rest of your life ahead of you." And make your own rest-of-my-life plan to help you conceive the general shape and scope of what is possible.

With this big-picture of your future sprawling out before you in measurable increments, you'll know far better whether you're aiming too high or leaving a purposeless decade or two dangling.

Don't worry, this plan isn't fixed in stone. So much happens in life that we can neither predict nor control. This is simply a way to estimate your capacity to inhabit the time you are given with the intentions you have chosen (and articulated clearly in chapters one and four). It's just another way of reassuring yourself that you have all day.

Want more ideas for maximizing your writing time and results? Check out Making Time for Writing Part 1 and Part 2.

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making time for writing: part 2

Time. A writer's greatest gift. A writer's greatest challenge. How are you spending yours? How could you be spending it better? Here are a few tips to help.

HONOR YOUR RHYTHMS

Honor your biorhythms by planning your writing time for the part of the day you're most capable of doing it. For example, my friend Chloe De Segonzac just wrote to say that she's learned that waking up at 6:00 a.m. to write an important sex scene is not the way to go for her. It's hard to feel steamy when she's overwhelmed with sleepy.

I'm restless in the mornings and do my most focused work later in the day and throughout the evening. Because I am fortunate to work for myself, from home, I have the flexibility to shape my time in a way that works for me. My schedule is always fluxing to accommodate changing workflow and family needs, but these days it generally looks something like this:

I'm with my young son until the late morning or midday, at which point someone else in the house cares for him. Once I put on my work hat, I'll participate in any client calls or meetings, business development opportunities, and such during the early hours of the day. Often I will do a big chunk of client writing or project management during the early part of the day as well. When I'm teaching, I find that I am able to focus and respond to student work very well at any time of the day. So I'll start this early, too. Nonfiction books and poetry and essays and everything that is being generated from the depths of my being and written onto the page generally happen in the evenings after my son is asleep.

Having transitioned from college directly to a series of office jobs, I had no idea what my biorhythms for different kinds of work were until I attended graduate school, where I had the flexibility to experiment with the various elements of my schedule. Chances are good that you've been in whatever life rhythm you're currently in for a good long while. This means you may not have any idea what might work best for you. Get ready to find out!

Define Your Prime Time

This is your invitation to start experimenting with your own sense of prime writing time. Right now. Does your cup overflow with imagery with that first coffee on the drive into work, or are you tapping the revelation vein at two in the morning when you can prowl in the shadows? Or maybe you're an "anytime is fine for me" kind of writer.

Do you need a six-hour chunk of uninterrupted time to really hit your stride, or can you make good progress during lunch break, standing in line at the post office and waiting for your dentist appointment? How can you create more of the time-of-day and time-to-work intervals suited to your writing rhythms? No one can answer these questions but you; and even you may not have an informed answer yet. But soon, if you commit to finding out, you will.

Work With What You Have

I have just implored you to define your ideal writing times and patterns. And I meant it. But now, with equal emphasis, I would like to insist that you dig deep to define the scope of what's possible right this very minute.

Today, I am able to shape my workdays. But for many years, I was not. Despite the fact that it was not optimal for me to have my butt-in-chair in the morning (and it absolutely withered my soul to be in an office), there I was doing exactly that—sitting at a desk from 8:30 a.m. until at least 6:00 p.m. So, I made the best of it and worked with the margins I had. I carried a notebook when walking my dog in the mornings. I took public transportation to and from work and read and wrote as I bumped along into the shoulders of strangers. I spent weekend late afternoons alone in cafes reading and scribbling in notebooks. I went to live music cafes in the evenings, in my pajamas, and while the people around me drank beer and sloshed about in time to the music, I filled pages with music coming through me in words.

In short, I refused to let a meaningless, demanding job deplete my creative stores. I insisted that my heart stay open to poetry and wrote myself awake every time my muse started to wander off looking for someone more reliable to haunt. I made writing my "everything else" around work, blended it with eating and entertainment and social time and care of my animals, and felt integrated, inspired, whole.

What are you doing right now to make the most of the time you do have, even if it's not your prime time? Start there, and experiment with how you might do a little more of it, and then a little more.

Tune in next Tuesday for Part 3 of the Making Time for Writing series. Missed Making Time for Writing: Part 1? Read it here.

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