Homeward Bound: The Incredible Time Suck

This is the rough draft of my office. In my new home.

Yes. I’m a homeowner. I know, I’m scared, too. Can you imagine that people–intelligent, well paid people–believe I’m capable of caring for a whole building?

But it means I have an office again. Which means I can finally get back to the wonder world of writing, right?

FALSE.

See, this office is indeed Ian’s Office Mark I (sue me, I’m an Iron Man fan…).

In fact, the entire house is at Mark I status. Someone likely did construct this home in a cave with a box of scraps. The whole lot needs a great deal of elbow grease. Along with knee, neck, and wrist. It eats up a lot of time. Which is why you haven’t seen much of me here, dear reader.

So how do I manage to get much work done when every day something else needs fixing or cleaning or is actively exploding? When it’s just me, myself, and the bugs trying every second of the day to invade?

Easy. I don’t. Fact is, I haven’t had much chance to sit down and write. Or even read.  I’d say over the past two months, I’ve written less than 20,000 words. And only about 10,000 of those has stayed in my work. A huge chunk of that has been just random scribbles after I’ve dusted off the muck of lawn, showered off the defeat of a semi-flooded basement, shamed away the fear-urine of a battle with attic wasps. And the ten hours or so I spend chained to a cubicle do not make for productive time on Writer’s Island.

In what little guilt ridden free time I have, I do try to write before the exhaustion sweeps over me. Or read. Or catch up with fellow writers. It adds up to an hour or two a day. Which doesn’t seem like a lot.

But the one thing I (and you) need to be reminded of is the untrimmed path of writerdom. There are no marked trails in our forest. There are no clean cut, easy way to park your car in the lot and stroll amongst the daises to Publisher’s Summit. You will inevitably have to trek through the tall grass dodging the velociraptors of writerly doom (Velociraptor selfdoubticus). So when you feel like you can’t hack it because life is making you its bitch and writing becomes a struggle, just remember: You’re only a failure when you give up.

What do you do to balance the demands of your day with your writing alter-ego?

To remedy this in some way, I’ve decided to show off this house and some of my projects to you fine folks. Of course, not the whole house. That would be creepy. But I’d say my office might be of interest to you…Hell, it’s even drastically different now than it was in those pictures. Pretty soon you folks will get to see the Awesome Desk of Awesomeness I’ve been building over the past few weeks…If I can’t make you all jealous over my snazzy writing skills, I can definitely make you jealous of my kickass furniture.

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