The Dishwasher
When I was a kid, we were assigned chores. One of them was emptying the dishwasher. This rather mindless task can be accomplished in five minutes, but I would dread when it was my turn because it was my least favorite chore. In my mind, emptying the dishwasher must have actually taken two hours because that's how long this stupid task seemed to take.
I still hate emptying the dishwasher. In fact, if Oldest Son is anywhere in the house, it's HIS chore and I will instead clean the counters and scrub the table and take out the trash. But if he's not home, it gets emptied anyway--by me. I guess that's because that is what moms do. Or grownups.
Anyway, in thinking about how much I loathe emptying the dishwasher (second only to matching and folding socks), I thought about how when you're a kid, chances are you didn't VOLUNTEER to do anything boring. No raking leaves, or mowing the lawn, or emptying the dishwasher, or taking out the trash unless it was court-ordered (a.k.a. Mom made you) or money was involved.
Then you become a grownup and not only do you do all THOSE thankless chores, you do a million others from the moment you open your eyes until the moment your head hits the pillow.
Which got me thinking about writing. Because I can tell you that lately . . . writing has NOT been fun. Oh, yes, I have blog days when I can say, "I love being a writer because I get to make up stuff for a living," blah, blah, blah. If I read that today, I would make MYSELF puke. Hormonal? Maybe. Crabby? Possibly. But the fact is, I am a writing mess. I have multiple works in progress, none of which I WANT to work on (except Magickeepers II--just in case my editor is reaidng this). I feel uninspired with my grownup work. I am not having fun. Head . . . meet desk. Pound.
But here's the thing. As a "real" writer (a.k.a. a grownup, not a kid), I have to work through it. I have the dishwasher days. And I have the days when I can just lie in bed with Demon Baby and watch "Wow, Wow Wubzy." There are the dishwasher days . . . and the days when it really is fun and everything seems to flow.
I don't know if writers talk about the dishwasher days much. But I'm here to say I have them. And I am in the midst of emptying the silverware and the cup rack as I speak.
But grownups get on their keyboard and do it anyway. 'Cause we just do. And I think those that succeed know that and just work through it.
Thoughts?
33 comments:
Absolutely. One of my projects right now isn't remotely a writing job. I'm pulling together a directory of hospital laboratories with a particular specialty area. It involves going back and forth between a federal gov't database, hospital websites, sometimes making calls and e-mails, etc., but it's not a writing job. The only real writing is a short paragraph or two for each entry describing the institutions. It's tedious and it's time consuming and it's boring.
And it pays $6000. So I do it. Period. Such is life.
I hired my oldest son to do some indexing for the journal I edit and he complained it was boring. I told him he was being paid $10 an hour to do it, that yes it was boring, much of any job was boring, shut up and do it. Hey, that's life.
And you know what? Both my wife and I hate putting the dishes out of the dishwasher.
Mark:
I have a job or two like that . . . pays the college tuition bills, but not all fun and games.
But even the fiction I am having to force a little, which is REALLY unlike me.
E
I am having just such a day today. I threw away my To Do list. I'm going to rent a movie for me and my daughter, we're going to eat munchkables while watching it, then I'm going to drink a bottle of wine, then I'm going to read a novel.
I once had a boss who believed in mental sick days. In other words, sometimes you're physically fit to work, yet you call in sick because you need to watch a movie and drink a bottle of wine and read a book. He and I got along right up to the day they canned him.
Stephen,
I call those either "mental health days" or "attitude adjustment days." I don't need them much as a freelancer, but I still need them. And when I worked a so-called "real job" I needed them all the time.
OMG yes! Dishwasher days - I love it. I'll call mine Laundry Days since that's my most dreaded "chore." (And, no, I don't get an allowance either!) You should check out Elizabeth Gilbert's talk from earlier this month. She brilliantly addresses this topic:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=86x-u-tz0MA
I may have said this on here before, but it's just weird to me how often the things you say about writing relate to how I feel about playing violin. Playing while growing up, I never absolutely needed to practice, only when I felt like it. But now my whole college academic life is based on how well I am doing in violin, and I don't always feel like playing scales a thousand times a day. But I usually do it anyway.
My income isn't dependent on writing; when I feel that I'm forcing myself to write, I stay away from it.
I do wonder, though, how I would handle those "just not into you" days, if writing were my only source of income. Maybe the same way I handled those days when I didn't feel like going to the job. I knew having a job was a necessity, so I just tried making the best of it. Funny, now that I think of it, my work product never suffered. And believe me, there were more days than not where I just dragged myself to the job kicking and screaming.
I don't know...maybe we all have a hidden survival instinct that won't let us put out crappy work even on those "Just not into it" days.
I play mind games, telling myself how much I love writing. Sitting on the edge of the chair and leaning forward, because the body language might trick my mind into thinking I really want to write. Sometimes it works, other days I slog through it.
But after all this promo, I am eager to get back to writing!
Love the dishwasher analogy, E! I feel that way sometimes at the beginning of a new project. I'm building story, and things don't always flow as well. Those are the days when the pages are few, and less fun. I love the, where did the time go, and holy crap I wrote x-amount of pages and it was a rush, days. That's usually the dangled carrot for me.
And once in a while when you get on your keyboard and do it anyway, there is a miracle. You do some of your best writing. And you look back and are glad you did that. At least that's the way it is sometimes for me. Maybe not most of the time, but sometimes, and those sometimes are good.
Aw, Erica! I hope it improves for you soon. Writing is amazingly hard sometimes. I seriously believe 15 hour days of physical labor would be easier.
When I feel this way, I pull out my reader mail, the ones that talk about how my story has helped them accept themselves as they are, how my story has helped them find some healing or some understanding. Or gotten them through some lonely times and made them feel "normal" for just a little bit. (I KNOW you have these!)
At first, this reading makes my burden feel heavier, but gradually, I start to refocus on how much I love my readers. And how much I love my characters. And how grateful I am for my "sacred duty."
At the same time, I am sick to death of my writing. I'm bored with what I write. I've completely failed to write even one thing "for myself" (NY). I feel like my talents are burdens, too.
This sounds corny, but I just have to shove myself to that "love spot," as exhausting as that effort feels some days. I have to go where I feel like I'm just streaming love and acceptance for my characters and readers. I'm trying to discover that "write for myself" land, but for now, I write for my readers and I finish for the money, LOL.
I'm having a dishwasher week. Scrubbing the toilet (the figurative toilet) has been much more appealing lately. The good news is I've learned how to create web sites, so my time hasn't been completely wasted.
Two weeks ago I was really excited to start my 4th draft, and now I dread it. I think I just need to jump in and get started, but right now I keep hoping someone else will come along to do my chores. ;)
It's funny you mentioned the dishwasher - just today I was remembering with my mom how she used to say "would you like to unload the dishwasher?" to which I would say no. She'd get mad, so I'd point out that she's the mom and she should just tell me to do it. I should have been grateful she was being courteous, but that's kids for you, lol.
Empty the dishwasher? I was the dishwasher. Much worse, let me assure you. ;-)
(I will not live in a house without an electronic dishwasher now)
I'm having one of those weeks where everything in my life sort of blows up and takes more of a chunk out of my day and writing slips to the far back seat. It's hard to pull it back out of that slump, but I will today.
Every since my son was tall enough to reach shelves I can't reach -- he is the official dishwasher emptier!! Of course he's not home so much at almost-17, so I'm still doing it. I hate it, but not as much as laundry. To me laundry signifies the times in life that are overwhelming, when things pile up. You can shove it all back in the dryer (who me?) and just pull out what you need when you need it, or you can take a deep breath and take the time to fold and put away. I often have to force myself to do that, as I think I'll have to do on Monday when I delve back into WIP after the editing debacle. I actually had the thought you wrote -- I wasn't liking my project so much at all -- and needed to step away and see if it was worth going back to. It is. Maybe bit by bit the way I do the laundry. And the dishes. And the dusting. You get the picture.
Stephen:
Oddly enough, when I was very sick with Crohn's disease and had periods of time when I was bedridden, I seemed to, by force of illness, take mental health days like that. Now, not so much. So I actually took your advice and have been just resting and in my pjs all day, watching old movies.
E
Debra:
I will check that out--thanks for the link!
E
Hi Oldest:
I thought of you today . . . I saw the last 15 minutes of Coyote Ugly . . . the part where she sings. But then I thought of you off at music school so it made me cry because I missed you . . .
I actually think that a lot of creative endeavours are based on a combination of discipline and passion.
xoxoxoxo
Mom
Kath:
That is really interesting. I think for me, sometimes having multiple things allows me to find one where I have a rhythm going.
Some of it, I think, is I have two near-completed novels--sellable . . . decent novels near 200 pages done. And both of them need a start-from-scratch reexamination to take them to the next level. In one case, I am chucking 50 pages and making it a thriller with horror overtones . . . in the other, I am weaving a WAY more complicated crime through the cold case that starts the story off. I think part of me feels daunted by the challenge of them, so I would rather have a "shiny new idea" that I am totally worked up about. But I don't for the moment.
Edie:
Interesting . . . I have never tried mental tricks. Might be time to start,
E
LaDonna:
As I replied to Kath, I NEVER feel that way at the beginning--LOL!! I think I am a writer in search of a beginning. :-)
E
Joe:
Thanks for that!!!
E
Spy:
Thanks for sharing that. I have heard from readers--this week unexpectedly, I heard from three readers who read way-old stuff on my backlist and loved it. But I tend to think of my writing as solitary--and then shared with my group--before I ever get to that reader connection.
I know the "love spot" is there. Somewhere. Maybe under all this winter sickness I've been dealing with for two months.
E
melanie:
I did not see the movie, but there's one called "The Breakup" with Vince Vaughn (whom I like) and Jennifer Aniston (really can't stand her). Anyway . . . she says, in this snippet I saw on a commercial, "You should WANT to help me in the kitchen," to which he says, "Why should I WANT to help you?!?!?!" It's this really honest moment, I think, about how most of us feel about chores.
E
Sarah:
Funny . . . when we stayed with my Grandma, we all FOUGHT to be the dishwasher. It was DRYING we hated.
E
Amy:
Wonderful analogy. Very fitting for where I am this week.
E
I actually like to empty the dishwasher... but I get what you mean. Roll up the proverbial sleeves and do the work. You are accountable and responsible... and most importantly, where the buck stops.
It really takes something to stand in that space and not be stopped. That's why we're not coming home after a day at the office, sitting down in front of the TV and drinking a beer. We're creating worlds and giving voice to entities that make a difference in people's lives... which they do otherwise the books would not sell.
Just my $.02... now back to edits.
Absolutely awesome analogy and a fantastic post. Thanks for this! I think I needed it to kick my butt into a higher gear.
Hi Ewoh:
Writing is always a choice.
Yes . . . very much so.
E
Hey Scott:
Thanks very much--and thanks for the tweet on Facebook.
E
Erica, I actually have The Breakup and love that part. The look on his face when he says "why would I want to do dishes?" is priceless. :) I used to stalk his house a little when he bought a place in Chicago, but only because it was two blocks from my office. I swear.
Melanie:
LOL!!!! I really like him . . . I thought he was priceless in Mr. and Mrs. Smith!!!!
I'd stalk him. ;-)
E
Dishwasher days. Great discription. I think the hard part is trying to push through a dishwasher day. When every word is torture, every thought feels like its painfully squeezed out of your brain and I wonder if this was really meant to be. It's when I start questioning the determination that follows me most days. Why the heck am I trying so hard?
Then there are the days of summer. When things flow like a gentle breeze and words are my good friends once again.
Aimless:
Absolutely . . .
The life of a writer.
E
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