#AcWri and Me

They’re often amazing interruptions. I got sessional contracts across three universities within 6 months of submitting and have continued to be contracted by at least two universities every semester since. I’m an educator; and I love teaching.

I also fell madly in love with and married the love of my life. There is no overstating the joy of feeling loved and loving back, feeling safe, and feeling home. We made a baby - the best and most precious meatball we’ll spend the rest of our lives getting to know. 

Writing obstacle #2: Teaching preparation takes up all my extra time” (Belcher, 2009, p.26)

As grateful as I am for lucking out on getting some work every semester, I’ve allowed it to morph into writing obstacles. 

Also, I haven’t yet embraced the theoretically liberating concept of contract work. Having been a (multiple-staff-card-carrying) member of the precariat for the past decade-ish, I am not a fan. 

The amount of work that goes into preparing, teaching and marking for different units, across three different disciplines, across up to four different universities is enervating, to say the least. By the time I’ve squared work away for the day, there is just no juice left in this buggy. 

Writing obstacle #12: My childcare responsibilities are preventing me from writing” (Belcher, 2009, p. 32)

We’re not ready to send the meatball to childcare just yet (current pandemic or otherwise), so we share childcare responsibilities equally whilst juggling individual work responsibilities (this is where we have been exceedingly fortunate for those flexible hours afforded by contract work). 

Meatball time is the best time. 

That notwithstanding, it takes us a few days to watch a full-length feature film for fun because we can’t stay awake even if we have two hours to spare once bub has bedded down for the night. 

Writing obstacles #7 and #11: I have to read just one more book” (p. 28) and “I’m not in the right mood to write” (pp. 31-32)

 And I keep putting off the writing until that break in the semester, the end of the semester, the window between marking floods. But when that time comes round, I wait for the motivation to write to strike. And when it does, I spend it reading all.the.things. And soon, another semester kicks up again. 

Clearing the way: Proposed solutions to #distraction obstacles

But I want to write. I want to publish. And a few things have to change. 

Following Belcher’s “Designing your writing schedule” (2009, pp. 19-25) exercise, I drew up a schedule centred around bub’s needs. Crucially, we’ve also tried to fit in time for us to nurture our passions. And now that we’ve done that, reasonable blocks of time, at least on paper, have been illuminated. 

I’ve scheduled my writing time when my mind is at its sharpest in the very early morning. I’m going to write something every day for the next 12 weeks, regardless of whether I feel like it.

I’ve re-structured my days so that my research needs are met throughout certain days before I turn to teaching prep and grading. I’ve also anticipated the weeks of the marking floods so that I won’t be overwhelmed and can make the necessary tweaks to the daily schedule if necessary. 

I’ve limited my teaching prep to an hour for each of the four units I’m teaching, and I’ve only taken on 10 hours of face-to-face class time per week this semester. 

And instead of reading all the things before doing any writing, taking copious notes, I’m going to follow Belcher’s advice to “read and then write an actual paragraph, however loose, about what [I] have read.” (2009, p. 28)

The memory that springs to mind when I started this reflective exercise (Belcher, 2009, p. 2) is of me at age 12, standing in front of the classroom and reading out my most recent creative writing essay that was graded highest in class. I remember the two green stars that my teacher drew on every page as I gave voice to my characters. I remember wanting to be a writer with every essay that I was asked to write. I remember writing being effortless; and I couldn’t get enough to read. The more I read, the more fun I had writing.

But I’ve been reading less and less what I want to read with every year that passes. And as I write this, I think that’s when my relationship with the Blank Page began. I have so many things I want to say, but I’m sometimes paralysed with the terror of writing anything without first arming myself with all the research - so much research that I’ve sometimes missed deadlines set for CFPs for which I would have loved to submit.

Common elements in my negative feelings about writing

“You’re not good enough.”

And with every day that passes that no words get put down, the inner critic’s scream rises in pitch:

You’re not as smart as you thought. Everyone knows it but you.

That was phenomenally wasteful of a perfectly good day. That’s on you.

Lazeabout.

You don’t have the time or the energy now to do what it takes. Move on already.

It’s never going to amount to anything anyway. It’ll get rejected.

This draft was written too long ago; it’s dated. It’ll get rejected.

It’s strange to externalise these criticisms here. I did not feel this way as I was preparing to submit my thesis.

Lessons to be learned from my positive experiences of writing

During my doctoral candidature, I capitalised on how much I enjoy networking and performing and signed myself up to present at our discipline’s work-in-progress (WiP) seminar series every time a new chapter/section draft was due. In this way, I met my self-imposed interim deadlines because I had to deliver something at these seminars. I also received feedback that affirmed I wasn’t totally sunk, and I had a few words to seed what would eventually become a full chapter draft.

After working on that project for almost five years, I knew I had read as much as I could around it. I had worked through and analysed my chosen texts, and I was confident in what I had to say. Preparing for my thesis submission, I played with my words. I moved them around until I heard them sew my argument together in clearer and stronger ways. I fell in love with writing (re-writing, revising) and my research all over again; it was difficult for me to leave my desk because I was so stuck in during those final weeks.

Writing favours the bold and the brave

I want to feel that way about writing again. I want to feel as excited to share my writing as I once did. And I want to devour more books than I do Netflix and Prime.