Some of my best writing occurs, not at the computer, but while scrubbing out the shower, sorting socks, and washing dishes. I have no idea why the words won’t sometimes flow while sitting before the screen, but five minutes into another task and PRESTO! I’ve the perfect lede for a feature’s story or press release.
The opposite is also true when writing fiction. Most of my fiction writing happens mentally, while power walking and listening to music, driving and throwing newspapers, and again, while performing household chores. When I’m stumped, I know it’s time to sit at the keyboard and pound that scene out.
I think housework and writing, for me, are complementary they’re both inherently creative. While that might be obvious when one can hear the clacking of the keys, there is also something stirring about tackling the mountains of clutter hiding the grime (mind you, that transformation from clean to yuck can happen within hours at my house) and transforming the chaos into serenity once again.
While that might sound marvelously poetic, the real explanation is, probably, more practical. It’s simply encouraging to know that sorting the jumble of random images and phrases in my head is awfully similar to the tasks I’ve accomplished elsewhere in the house. If I can succeed in one, I can certainly fulfill the other.
The opposite is also true when writing fiction. Most of my fiction writing happens mentally, while power walking and listening to music, driving and throwing newspapers, and again, while performing household chores. When I’m stumped, I know it’s time to sit at the keyboard and pound that scene out.
I think housework and writing, for me, are complementary they’re both inherently creative. While that might be obvious when one can hear the clacking of the keys, there is also something stirring about tackling the mountains of clutter hiding the grime (mind you, that transformation from clean to yuck can happen within hours at my house) and transforming the chaos into serenity once again.
While that might sound marvelously poetic, the real explanation is, probably, more practical. It’s simply encouraging to know that sorting the jumble of random images and phrases in my head is awfully similar to the tasks I’ve accomplished elsewhere in the house. If I can succeed in one, I can certainly fulfill the other.
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