Photograph by Hedi Slimane
This morning I’m in the big chair. Daddy’s chair. My son is on his way to school and my husband is on the road, and there’s no one here but us chickens. Okay, well one chick.
My mom was planning to come out for a visit this week but has had to postpone her trip. And while I’m sad we won’t be seeing her and worried about things back home, I wouldn’t be a writer if I didn’t admit that the prospect of an empty house fills me with creative energy. I woke up at 4am with my head full of story, and all I had to do was turn on the light and start writing. No bed-mate to consider, no early morning patter down the stairs in search of a notebook. Oh, it was luxurious, let me tell you.
Also, and I say this with love in my heart, my husband and I needed a break from one another. Since the move we’ve been together almost constantly, and while we’re both pretty easygoing and never fight, I think we’re ready to spend some time doing our own things. He’s got his new career and I’ve got mine (the almost finished book contract arrived yesterday–so exciting!), and our little guy has his way to make in the new school. The next year or two will be good for all of us, in the grand scheme of things. At least, I hope it will.
But just in case the house gets too lonely. . . .
What has been the most productive period of your life so far?
Book contract. That so does not deserve to be in a bracket. It needs to be highlighted, in bold and ALL CAPS!
PS – that just in case click should come with a warning.
{WARNING} Click and prepare to melt.
cute dogs. the little yappy kind.
They look like the kind of dog you’d see in a Dick and Jane book. I am smitten.
Is it the contract that is almost finished or the book that the contract is for? I’m burning with the confusion.
I’d say the most recent period of my life has been the most productive. In the last three years I’ve written two good novels (unpublished) and nearly 10 good stories, some of which have been published and some that I’m shopping around.
Yeah, right about now is where I want to be.
Oops. Well, it’s the contract I meant. It should be ready to sign in a few days.
You are on a tear, my friend. That’s a lot of work for three years! Was it the cabin that got you into this groove?
I don’t think the cabin did, though it is coincidental to the timeline. I’ve only had a couple of writing sessions out there, so I can’t say that it’s contributed to the productivity. However, the first Fathers and Sons story I wrote was about a cabin much like mind, so maybe it’s fueled the work since.
“What has been the most productive period of your life so far?”
November 1969 to present.
November 1969. When you started writing, Tetman?
Yes. November 10, 1969. I was eleven-and-a-half years old. Since then it’s been all gathering and fabricating, melding and molding, hammering and chiseling and slathering on the colors.
Darling, that little lap warmer does not look like it could protect you from a fly. But so effing cute! It could make the bad guys stop and go “awwwww!” for sure.
You mean you turned on the light? In the middle of the night? That is an amazing thing. I spent hours last night trying not to move too often. I think that’s why my body hurts– it’s not the lack of sleep, it’s the not moving thing.
I pivoted off the protection angle and fell hard for those big brown eyes. Dear lord. Though I suppose the dog can bark, right? And sniff around the closets? We can run for the door together.
I knew my married friends would understand the luxury of that early morning light. I may even sleep on his side of the bed tonight, just because I can.
those little yappy dogs can make a helluva racket.
my feet hang over the foot of the bed so when i sleep alone (which i rarely get to do anymore) i sleep on the diagonal.
i like it when my wife goes to church sunday mornings because even though i love her and like her, it’s nice to have a few hours at home to myself.
I know, but the rental agreement stipulates a small pet and I think the Cavalier is one of the quieter toy breeds. I do plan to ask about the yap quotient when I start looking.
I sleep with one knee practically under my chin. As you can imagine, my husband stays well out of the way.
The largest and most sustained of my writing probably came before I was divorced, when my kids were finishing up high school. It’s frustrating that now I have ALL THE TIME IN THE WORLD, but I’m not churning out the pages the way I used to. But thank you for asking the question. In answering it, I know what I need to do.
Write.
Maybe we need to impose a certain amount of busyness on ourselves in order to keep cranking. I’m not sure what that’s going to look like for me, but I think it will involve either the library, a bookstore, or some sort of new writing adventure.
Now. Now is always the most productive time.
I always admire your work ethic, CJ, and that quiet determination.
Hey, I clicked on that spaniel website. My husband would come home to a new rescue dog! That’s the way it works at my house. (it really does)
Tonight we had dinner at a restaurant next to our hotel —- the restaurant has a house dog: Maddie. I’m in love. Maddie had scraps of fish from my table…
But to your question about productivity. I work best when I have other things to do besides write. Bring my kids to town for Christmas and I’m all about spewing out a chapter a night. But now, Septmeber??? Not much going on but goofing off.
Maddie! Great pet name. What kind of dog is she, Teri?
Maddie is a mutt. The sweetest little mutt. What a mug on her! She has everyone walking by on the sidewalk doing the oooohs and aaaaahs. What a character.
Despite this past summer, which has been a drought in more ways than one, the last four years have been the most productive word-wise and friend-wise—but possibly the least productive housework-wise and time management-wise . . . There’s probably a correlation there, somewhere.
Squeeful Doggies!!!!!
Your blog productivity alone just smokes me. And the fact that you’re almost finished (or finished?) writing a book, while working full-time and mothering two small children? Geez.
Sarah for President!
Don’t confuse OCD with productivity, Averil!
I’ve promised myself a nice, full-on shutdown after the youngest goes to college, followed by three consecutive months of sleep. I can hang on until 2024, right?
Agree with Teri. I am most productive during the school year. I think it’s because I am on a schedule that has me up and moving, as opposed to laying around like I do most days in summer.
I seem to thrive on a busy schedule unfortuantely. When my kids were little my husband worked a combination afternoon/night shift. I was working full time as a teacher and on opposite shifts we saw each other one hour a day during the week – as I came home and he left for work and vice versa. I decided that would be a good time to get a Masters degree too. I don’t know what I was thinking, but it was a crazy two years of writing papers with three kids ages 1,4, and 6.
Since I learned so much about writing in grad school (and am just starting out on my own writing now), I’d say grad school was my most productive writing time.
Jennine, holy moly. You must have had to strap on the rocket boosters every morning when you got out of bed.
I’ve been pretty productive lately, only with video, not writing. I’m going up to NYC to work on a project, then to Kentucky, and who-knows-what in between those two points. Oh! and I’m also planning on attending the Brooklyn Book Festival on the 23rd. Anybody going to be around for that?
Those goggies are cute, Averil, but I’m a die-hard wiener dog woman myself. Love that attitude. On the other hand, I find Bichon Frise and Maltese heart-melting. Those dogs are genetically programmed to be your best friend. Alas, I will be dogless for the foreseeable future.
No Brooklyn for me, since I’m sitting in the Big Chair and all. But go forth and report back, I’d love to hear all about it.
We had a Dachshund when I was a kid. Every time someone came to the door he’d get so excited that he’d pee all over the floor. Apparently their little bladders are awkwardly placed.
Can’t resist:
Awwww! I have a half-Bichon/poodle thing. They are great dogs.
Forget the adorable dog, I want to scoop that baby under my arm and make for the door.
The chair. The empty house. Ahhhhh. Sometimes I wonder if I could just get one solid day of that if I could finish. Then I remember that if I had one solid day like that I’d probably crawl back into bed and take a nap. I need your energy Averil, the kind that wakes you in the morning with a story so ready to burst you turn on the light. You were born to do this, my friend.
Small kids are absolutely exhausting. I don’t remember getting anything done at ALL when mine were little. It always seemed to be mealtime. Or bath time. Or school time, daycare time, book time–even, blissfully, bedtime.
It will get easier, Mama.
I was my son’s primary caregiver his first two-and-a-half years. It took me a month when he was a newborn to retype a forty-page story. And that was all the writing I got done that first month. If there was ever a perfect time in my life to be a pot-head, it would have been during his first year. Or at least his first six months. It seemed all I did was food-processing assistance (formula and burping at one end, diapers and wiping at the other). I could have relaxed taking tokes between the bottle and diaper calls, grooving on the tunes or the tube.
I had no idea mommy mushbrain also affected fathers, but I suppose it comes with the caregiving role during those first months. Which I agree would be the perfect time to burn, early and often.
averil, it was plain exhaustion coupled with constant interruption
I was most productive when I was single and lonely. I prefer how it is now.
It’s nice that your fella is also a writer. You both know the wild-eyed look that says, “Don’t talk now, I’ve got an IDEA!”
That’s a polite version. How it usually goes is a look of death followed by “Shut up! I’m writing!” from me or just complete and total disregard on his part.
Productivity: I ask my wife to let me write in peace, send the dog away, hang up on the latest telemarketer and disconnect the phone, curse my writer friends for their bushels of emails, and finally sit down to write. And then I feel guilty for being so mean. And then I write.
Writing brings out the worst in a person. I used to be so engaged, and now am completely self-absorbed. It’s a job hazard.
I absolutely love it when my husband goes away on a business trip… for the first three days. After that I get deeply resentful.
I don’t know why but I see you with a great big Saint Bernard. I have no idea if they live well with kids or how they are on the protection front but I love how enormous they are. They seem like they’d be good mates.
I cannot wait to get my hands on your book but you already know that, right? Congrats on the contract. I hope you get everything your heart desires.
I like the hugeness and amiability of a Saint Bernard, but we’d get the boot from our landlord if we came home with such a big guy. Maybe someday, if we ever become homeowners.
XO
Hi there neighbor! And, oh how cool you holding the paper book contract in your hot little hand! I picture you in the big chair, hub and kid off to their business, ideas swimming in front of your eyes. We are sisters in spirit, but in action, not so much. Here I am, also alone, sitting at my new breakfast bar while my boys are in their September mode, banishing thoughts of re-cutting my drawer liners and making corn bread.
With my dead cheerleader kicking at the edges of various editors’ e-readers trying to get their attention, and my fantastical empress-to-be pouting on her ancient throne, I am tasked with reopening my Watch Hill family saga–at my agent’s request–and I have no fucking excuse as to why I’m not diving in.
I dreamt of it last night. A whole new chunk of plot involving Boston and secrets and some sort of lethal poison. A tryst with her cousin’s old flame. A bone marrow transplant. A secret child. 4 a.m. bolt-upright material. But instead of jumping into the deep end, I’m wondering if I should throw out 6-month-old nuts and polish the silver. Fuck. Most productive? When I was a single mother with two babies and a mountain of debt. Go figure.
You know I have my pom-poms out for your dead cheerleader, but I’m intrigued by this Boston story, with secret trysts and lethal poison. This is my kind of book!
The longer you put it off, the harder it is to get started. Just saying.
Productive is such a loaded word for me these days. So much wasted time behind the wheel. But I’m gathering in news and listening to novels on tape so is it wasted or not?
My writing productivity has evaporated and I’m not sure that it bothers me now. I can’t compartmentalize enough these days to get it all done and do it well. There will be time later.
Now let’s talk about that contract. YAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAY!!!!!
I love your attitude. So many of our friends get crazy with the productivity when they have zero time to work, but personally I can’t imagine finding the brain cells to spare.
(Contract’s not quite here yet, but everything’s moving right on schedule. I wonder if I could decoupage that sucker to the top of my desk for inspiration. There are enough pages in there to cover it.)
This has nothing to do with anything… I show up for my art class and the teacher is from Portland, OR! Really nice guy. He’s married to a Finn and has been living here in the middle of nowhere for decades. It was a fun surprise.
I’m feeling that need for a little distance myself. The husband travelled extensively for the last decade and half, then bam! total togetherness since June. Since June! He just started studying again and has to read thousands of pages per class, so I have good writing space now. I think this is the most productive I’ve been. It might be partly due to me having a need to write this book. The other one was a project, this is my love child.
Congratulations on the contract!
Your love child! Oh that’s fantastic, Deb. Very best of luck with the book, though I can’t imagine that you need it.
XO
Most productive period for both writing and submitting: late 2009 through 2010. My book seems to have thrown everything off (excuses, excuses).
You + your book contract = love.