WRITER’S BLOCK
Deadlines are good. If I didn’t have one for this column, I might not get anything done. I’m not just referring to writing here, I’m talking about house work, gardening, practising the guitar and other projects as well. But unfortunately, I don’t manage to hit my target every week.
For example, I’m writing this piece on Friday afternoon, two hours after it was due at The Voice. It’s not like I didn’t try to get started earlier. I sat behind the computer for a while Wednesday morning, wrote a few not very interesting words, deleted them and then retreated to my workshop to start making a bowl on the wood-turning lathe.
It’s going to be a gift for a couple who are getting married next month, so it isn’t an urgent job, and I only intended to plan the project and mount the blank and then get back to the computer. But it felt so good to be making something with my hands that I just kept going until the job was done. So much for the writing. That happens a lot.
As a matter of fact, it happened again Thursday. After writing about 200 wishywashy words in the morning, I pressed the delete button again and set off on my bicycle to a supermarket to stock up on a wine that is on offer this week. I had to buy eight bottles to get the full discount so it might have made sense to take the car instead of overloading my saddlebags, but I was looking for a workout, so the extra weight was in fact a bonus.
And getting caught in heavy winds and rain added to the journey as well. By the time I got home, I was wet, cold and tired, so I felt I had earned my hot shower. I also decided it might be wise to sample the wine in case I wanted to get more before the deal expires, so I left the writing until today.
As it turns out, I do want more wine; but don’t worry, I didn’t cut into my writing again with another ride to the store. I cut into it with the axe I used for a two-hour wood-chopping session.
Despite my cold bike ride, Spring has officially sprung over here in England. That means I probably won’t be using the woodburning stove much during the next six months, so this job was even less urgent than the bowl. But again, it gave me something to do with my hands, and when I finish writing about it and my other distractions, the exercise will help me feel like I’ve done a proper day’s work.
For some reason, desk work alone doesn’t make me feel that way.
And now it’s time to wrap this column up and send it off. But before I do that, I think I’ll nip downstairs to clean the stove, vacuum the carpets and do a few other chores.
Because if I don’t do those things now, they might not get done until the next deadline.