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| Well,maybe not THIS bad |
I’ve decided writers’ homes reflect
how well their writing projects are going at any one time. Except for cleaning
the house because company is coming, my every day Martha Stewart barometer is
more related to deadlines and writers’ block than to a mythical cleaning
standard.
Our first home was a tidy little
ranch on a street with identical ranches and split levels. It seemed my
neighbors’ homes were always spotless. The ladies cleaned constantly, I noticed,
to prevent dirt. I mean, if you
vacuum and dust every day, how can you experience the “before” and “after” joy
of homemaking? Since I never ascribed to prophylactic cleaning, my home is
always a surprise – spotless one day, a disaster another. (Why is it no one
drops by unexpectedly when the house is clean?)
After staring at the blank page on
my monitor for five minutes, I decide I really should clean the fridge instead.
One clean fridge later, the thought of drafting that article makes me decide to
dust and remove my dog’s nose art from the lower part of the patio door.
Perhaps I’ll figure out how to write that scene in my novel while I do the
laundry. Anything but write. Result: spotless house but nothing written.
However, when the Muse parks
herself in my brain, the house could fall apart and I wouldn’t notice. I’m in
the zone. Words are flying. My character is off and doing stuff I never thought
of. I’m going to make that deadline for sure.
So what if I can write my first
chapter in the dust on my dresser? Why
vacuum today and pick up a few specks here and there when I can vacuum up so
much more tomorrow – after I’ve edited my article.
My advice to anyone considering
marrying a writer: learn to ignore your environment or DIY.
