The mind of a writer is a restless place. Trying my hardest, it’s difficult to shut it down. I imagine other writers are the same. Good writing, as I’ve heard, is clear thinking.
On the other hand I have a Protestant work ethic that would make even Calvin blush. If I’m given a task to do, I work assiduously until it is done. Bosses often mistake this for efficiency.
The problem is I’ve generally been employed below my ability level. That’s not to say that there aren’t busy times at work—there are. Some times I can’t finish what I need to, no matter how hard I work. Other times, however, there’s nothing to do.
Here’s my dilemma—should I write when there’s no work to do? Well, that isn’t really a question. Life is lamentably short; we have a few years and then we’re gone. Too many of those years are claimed by work. Much of it is busy-work.
In my current employment I’ve been going weeks without much to do. I want to keep my job. I’m making my goals. But I want to write and I have so little time. Temptation is strong.
My first novel was written while I was at work. With a master’s degree the only job I could find was secretarial. The boss provided me with a computer, but there was really no internet then. I could fill in forms and print them out, which was about all I was ever asked to do. For eight hours a day I sat at a computer with no tasks to do.
I wrote.
And wrote. My first novel wasn’t any good, but it was the start of something larger. Most novelists will tell you to write your first novel then throw it away. That’s about right. Still, the first novel has to be written.
So I sit at work. No emails have come in all day. I’ve completed my tasks and have laid plans for future activities. To write or not to write—that is the question. And it’s not really a question at all.
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