Art Doesn't Come Cheap

Today has been a day full of juggling.  I have juggled schedules and budgets and my mental focus to accommodate the giant back-to-school beast that is looming a month away, as well as other life-stuff and, frankly, it is making me cranky. 

I feel like every moment is being sucked away, and that it is being squandered.  You see, I do not have set writing time.  I have a "write at stoplights" kind of life.  I have been known to scribble on the back of an envelope while in an elevator.  I have texted myself ideas and lines of dialogue so I don't forget them.  I have written on my arm when paper was scarce.  Because ideas are precious, and they cannot be taken lightly. 

Writing (or Art of any kind, really) comes at a steep price.  I am not talking about the price that the consumer pays for the product, but the price that we as artists must pay in order to create Art. 


"Big Heart of Art" from qthomasbower on Flickr


At the moment, as my eye twitches a bit spasmodically, I am realizing just how much sleep I have been deprived of lately.  I have also been forced to say, "Hang on, sweetie.  Mommy is almost finished with this article" a few more times that I would like as of late. 

We pay in time, in lost opportunities, lost lunches, lost sleep, and lost sanity as we try to bring to life this thing that we can imagine so clearly in our mind.  It is all of these lost bits that help to give Art its value; the value grows exponentially with all the blood and sweat and tears.   

To all those people who claim, "You know, I could write a book" and to those who tear apart a work that encompassed four years of late nights and missed moments and peanut butter sandwiches...I wish to offer you a challenge:  If you really think you could do it, or do it better, but all means:  DO IT! 

But don't try to devalue our Art with your pettiness.

 

Pencils, Pictures, and 111 Pages

Well, I had to make last night another "late writing night."  I have been trying to write over my lunch hour so that the writing does not take too much time away from my family.  (I have an over-abundance of "Mom Guilt" so I constantly worry about this.)  But the past three work days, I have had to work through lunch to make up for taking off work early one day last week to take my son to the doctor.  However, today is my last "lost lunch," and I am eager to get back on track. 

Last night was productive, though.  A new character is making himself known.  Apparently, his name is Thaddeus--an older gentleman.  I am not sure how prominent of a character he will end up being, yet; however, I have a feeling that he will be pivotal. 

I also had to map out the region in which my story takes place.  Many of the characters live in a common area (in a valley), and I needed to be able to plot scenes.  I can't very well have characters running through woods if I can't see where they are going, now can I?  (To be honest, all this mapping is making be feel rather Tolkienesque.  Is that a word?) 

Enough already.  Focus, you silly redhead!

I really want to stick to my minimum of one hour per day.  I will let you in on a just-now-recognized goal...apparently I have had a subconscious "draft due-by date" of July.  I know, I know!  What am I thinking?  Well, it seems that I want to have the first draft completed before I turn forty.  I had no idea that this ambition was brewing in the back of my brain until I blurted it out to my friend, Angela.  But I did blurt it out, and now it is "out there," and it seems that I am making it even more real by talking about it here.  Nothing like a little public pressure to make yourself stick to a goal!

Also, since I am a visual person, I thought I would post a picture of where I write when I am at home (as opposed to when I write at my table in the break room at lunch, or at a stop light, or in the van while waiting for the school bus...):

My "writing spot."

You may notice that I write in pencil.  If you didn't notice, just believe me when I say that I do.  Therefore, I decided it would be a good idea to mount a nice, old fashioned pencil sharpener on one of my book shelves.  (This may have something to do with the fact that I burned up the motors on two of the fancy-pants electric models, and it was getting rather expensive to replace them!)  For those that give a flip, here is a photo of that as well:

My nice, sturdy pencil sharpener.

And yes, if you are super observant (as I so rarely am), you will notice that the calendar above the pencil sharpener proclaims it to be March of 1946.  Don't panic; it is still 2012.  The calendar was from my (much loved and much missed) great-grandmother's store, so I keep it as a reminder of her.  It also reminds me that time only stands still once you are in the grave, so I better do my living now!

Oh, before I go...yes, I got my hour in.  This makes my page count 111!