Best case scenario: I sit at my writing desk in
pajamas with a cup of coffee by 7am and get right to it. The veil between
dreaming and waking has only just lifted, so the writing space is like an open
plain at sunrise. Every blade of grass glistens with promise. The ink flows
freely. I’m away! By the end of the writing day, I’m satisfied. It’s only a
first draft, but it’s a thousand new words. I am a happier, nicer person to
everyone around me. I put a roast in the oven and then bake a pie for dessert.
Alternate scenario #1: Sitting at my writing desk in pajamas with a cup of coffee by 7am, check. The veil between dreaming and waking has only just lifted. Check! Oops, my pen is out of ink. No matter! The refill goes smoothly. It takes a while to get the pen working, but then I’m away, having wasted very little time. By the end of the writing day, things have gone as swimmingly as they can go with a first draft: I have written seven hundred and fifty new words. I’m a decent person to people around me. Homemade spaghetti Bolognese for dinner.
Alternate scenario #2: Sitting at my writing desk in pajamas with a cup of coffee by 7am, check. The veil between dreaming and waking, etc. The little yellow sign I made and stuck to the monitor says Don’t let the world in! but I check my email anyway. By the time I’ve answered a few messages, that veil is a distant memory and I can barely remember what it looks like. Focus. It’s only 8am. Step away from the computer, back to the writing desk. Lots of time left. Focus. Shit, now there’s a single hour left until I have to start marking student work. Now it’s noon, end of my writing day, and what do I have to show for it? One lousy paragraph and a headache. I mark student papers, answer more emails, throw in a load of laundry. What’s for dinner? Eggs. That’s what’s for dinner.
Alternative scenario #3: Sitting at my writing desk in pajamas with a cup of coffee by 7am, check. The veil between dreaming and waking, and so on. The little sign says Don’t let the world in! but I check my email anyway. Then Twitter. Then it’s 9:30am. I begin work, but it’s too late: I’m now miles and miles away from that open plain, so I begin the long trek back there. End of the writing day is just another brick in the wall: I couldn’t find the damned plain, so I’ve written a single shitty sentence. It’s best to avoid me. Leftovers for dinner.
Alternate scenario #4: In the kitchen, the coffee machine isn’t working properly and two of the three other people living in the house have engaged me in conversation. Can I have a ride to work? I’ll be late for dinner, OK? What’s for dinner tonight, anyway? Can you pay the phone bill? No, OK, I don’t know, and yes. I’m tugging on that veil between dreaming and waking: back down, dammit! Serenity now! Ohhhm. Back at writing desk. At least I got the coffee machine working. Last night’s election is impossible to avoid. Don't let the world in! screams the little yellow sign. I’m feeling reckless because of the coffee machine and do anyway. Just a peek. I can handle it. The roofers arrive and the hammering begins. End of writing day: I’ve eked out several words, changed a few commas. The world is a garbage fire and I hate myself. Popcorn and wine for dinner.
Alternate scenario #5: Sitting at my writing desk in pajamas with a cup of coffee by 7am, check. The veil between dreaming and waking has only just lifted. Check and yay! The past two days were write-offs, so I have to make it up today. I watch the snow falling. So far so good.
Christine Fischer Guy is a Toronto author and journalist. Her first novel is The Umbrella Mender (2014, Wolsak & Wynn). Her short fiction has been nominated for the Journey and Pushcart prizes. She is also a fiction critic and an award-winning journalist. She teaches creative writing at the School for Continuing Studies at the University of Toronto and conducts author interviews for the Los Angeles Review of Books, The Millions, and Hazlitt. Find her at christinefischerguy.com
Alternate scenario #1: Sitting at my writing desk in pajamas with a cup of coffee by 7am, check. The veil between dreaming and waking has only just lifted. Check! Oops, my pen is out of ink. No matter! The refill goes smoothly. It takes a while to get the pen working, but then I’m away, having wasted very little time. By the end of the writing day, things have gone as swimmingly as they can go with a first draft: I have written seven hundred and fifty new words. I’m a decent person to people around me. Homemade spaghetti Bolognese for dinner.
Alternate scenario #2: Sitting at my writing desk in pajamas with a cup of coffee by 7am, check. The veil between dreaming and waking, etc. The little yellow sign I made and stuck to the monitor says Don’t let the world in! but I check my email anyway. By the time I’ve answered a few messages, that veil is a distant memory and I can barely remember what it looks like. Focus. It’s only 8am. Step away from the computer, back to the writing desk. Lots of time left. Focus. Shit, now there’s a single hour left until I have to start marking student work. Now it’s noon, end of my writing day, and what do I have to show for it? One lousy paragraph and a headache. I mark student papers, answer more emails, throw in a load of laundry. What’s for dinner? Eggs. That’s what’s for dinner.
Alternative scenario #3: Sitting at my writing desk in pajamas with a cup of coffee by 7am, check. The veil between dreaming and waking, and so on. The little sign says Don’t let the world in! but I check my email anyway. Then Twitter. Then it’s 9:30am. I begin work, but it’s too late: I’m now miles and miles away from that open plain, so I begin the long trek back there. End of the writing day is just another brick in the wall: I couldn’t find the damned plain, so I’ve written a single shitty sentence. It’s best to avoid me. Leftovers for dinner.
Alternate scenario #4: In the kitchen, the coffee machine isn’t working properly and two of the three other people living in the house have engaged me in conversation. Can I have a ride to work? I’ll be late for dinner, OK? What’s for dinner tonight, anyway? Can you pay the phone bill? No, OK, I don’t know, and yes. I’m tugging on that veil between dreaming and waking: back down, dammit! Serenity now! Ohhhm. Back at writing desk. At least I got the coffee machine working. Last night’s election is impossible to avoid. Don't let the world in! screams the little yellow sign. I’m feeling reckless because of the coffee machine and do anyway. Just a peek. I can handle it. The roofers arrive and the hammering begins. End of writing day: I’ve eked out several words, changed a few commas. The world is a garbage fire and I hate myself. Popcorn and wine for dinner.
Alternate scenario #5: Sitting at my writing desk in pajamas with a cup of coffee by 7am, check. The veil between dreaming and waking has only just lifted. Check and yay! The past two days were write-offs, so I have to make it up today. I watch the snow falling. So far so good.
Christine Fischer Guy is a Toronto author and journalist. Her first novel is The Umbrella Mender (2014, Wolsak & Wynn). Her short fiction has been nominated for the Journey and Pushcart prizes. She is also a fiction critic and an award-winning journalist. She teaches creative writing at the School for Continuing Studies at the University of Toronto and conducts author interviews for the Los Angeles Review of Books, The Millions, and Hazlitt. Find her at christinefischerguy.com
No comments:
Post a Comment