Something’s askew with my attention to my beloved work. I try to track down the odd feeling that I’ve seen somebody wearing my headspace somewhere in the past, and by gum I hit it.
Watching mothers answer their wall phones by the kitchen when I was a kid.
I’d be in a friend’s kitchen, and the mother would be off doing something of interest only to grownups, when the phone would ring. She would charge in, say Who is it now?! and pick up, all frustration at the interruption gracefully swept away through the conversation, hang up, roll her eyes at us, and tear off to return to what she was doing. I would always think, but never say, If she hates phone calls so much, why does she answer? But, of course, she didn’t hate the phone calls. She detested interruption.
With the advent of message machines, and all that’s come after those, things have switched around. Now, I’m interrupting myself. Ringing to see who’s rung. I don’t wish away innovations—I’ve been a science fiction fan since the days of kitchen wall phones—but when I hoped for an all-knowing robot, I didn’t want it in making pinging noises at my face while I work.
Where does a writer who loves his or her technology stow it while working? And, how? Posit that there’s a time in the day we’ve set aside that’s fair game for checking emails and so on, and here are three ways.
- This may seem obvious, but turn off notifications as well as the internet. Because, say we have to find out when the hamburger was first eaten in the USA right now or that scene we’re writing must take place elsewise, we are going to turn on our wifi and ping ping ping we are loved, but to distraction.
- When writing, if friends and family come to mind, don’t think of emailing them, or social media, think about the actual people and perhaps something you did together. Much easier to love them and return to writing if your writing mind is not drafting mental emails or fab posts.
- Cultivate “green spaces” that are connection-free during the day. For example,
- go for a walk or shopping and don’t take a phone. Think, Nobody in the world knows where I am right now.
- Enter a room without phone or technology, even the bathroom, and stay there, pretending that it’s 1990 or 1958. Read for a while.
- Go in the garden and do something out there, leaving the phone behind as those mothers of my youth used to do. Oh, Sorry, I was out in the garden and didn’t hear the phone. It was long before emoticons, but I know which one they would have used.
I hope you’ll have another brilliant writing day. Cheers. Mel
This week from @yourwritingmuse: You’ve made your writing spaces welcoming and inspiring. No wonder your story is going so well. From your Writing Muse