There was a reservation today at the coworking space I co-manage from
three of our regulars, so I got myself there two hours early to open and sneak
in some writing time. Back when I had a 9-5 in the UK, I used to get myself
into a Costa before work and use the hush of the city waking up to get some
words down on the page. There’s a lack of early-morning cafés in Quimper however,
so opening this coworking space has been great. However, it only works if I get
myself early enough, before the notifications start buzzing on my phone.
I miss the white noise of cafés, but the advantage of being
here early is that I can blast my music and have as many dancing breaks as necessary.
This morning I’m doing some additional world building and going back over my
first chapter with fresh eyes. I think you’re meant to edit when you have a
complete draft, but as I’m not a natural plotter, I do things more
idiosyncratically. Which is why I’ll probably never finish it.
My brain is all over the shop this morning, so I’m not
making the progress I’d like, barely 200 words down. Still, every word is a
small victory I tell myself.
Poetry is not something I can schedule, it’s more of a
drone in the back of my brain. I’ve got an idea for a new series of poems, and
it’s more research-based than my previous work, so I’m reading, talking, trying
to find new stories that could fit within the whole. Then I just need a thread
to tug. If I find the thread, the poem emerges from the research, the talking,
the thinking. Finding the thread tends to happen when I’m away from my computer
or notepad and going for a walk.
I have an office desk, surrounded by books, but I sometimes
find the chatter of the spines too much. The coworking space is clutter-free
(though I am starting to get lax) which makes it better suited for work and
writing. It also has a distinct lack of cats sitting on my arms to prevent me
from typing.
I foolishly thought that as a freelancer, I’d be able to make
more time to write, but it’s obviously quite difficult as I don’t have a
routine down. This last month was heavily disrupted as I was touring my latest
book across the UK and then co-running a writing retreat, but I now have a few
weeks of staying put and I’m determined to get myself back into good habits
again.
I used to use timeblocking quite effectively, which is the
art of scheduling things for yourself, that you don’t let outside elements
disrupt. I am naturally rebellious however, so I have to fight against the urge
to dismiss my own self.
Still, just as 200 words every day don’t look like much but
eventually add up to something, so do my little efforts to put my writing first.
It feels like I’m still struggling to make time, but I look back on myself 2-3
years ago, juggling far too many projects and prioritising the writing of
others, and I know I’ve moved forward.
The regulars have arrived and are softly talking to each
other – they all live in different cities and this is where they come a few times
a month to have team meetings. It’s a difficult sound to concentrate with – if there
were more of them, it would have the same effect as a café, but they are too few
and at a level where I automatically want to eavesdrop rather than type.
I wish I had brought my headphones with me so I could keep
listening to music – but that’s a habit I’ve dropped since moving back to
Brittany. When I lived in the UK, I couldn’t leave the house with my helmet of headphones,
a way to block out sensory overload and any unwanted approaches. They are now
in a drawer, mostly forgotten except for long journeys. I’ve had to buy a car
to get around as public transport outside of the city is patchy at best, so
have reconnected with the art of car-singing and car-dancing. It goes beyond
that, I walk without headphones now, because I’m not at war with the
environment around me. I can hear the birds, the conversations of two women
stopped in front of a door, snatch a few notes of music from car windows… Walking
as an open notepad.
Claire Trevien is the
British-Breton author of several poetry collections and a history book. The Shipwrecked House was longlisted in
the Guardian First Book Award as the Reader’s Choice. Trévien’s most recent
publication is the chapbook Brain Fugue (Verve
Poetry Press, 2019). She founded Sabotage Reviews and its Saboteur Awards. www.clairetrevien.co.uk
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