Somehow I keep getting pulled away from writing. Wordfest is next week, so I’m preparing for that: 9 days between Calgary and Banff, with some awkwardness in town because I’m not staying at the hotel that’s the staging ground for the events.
There’s all the prep for Wordfest itself, and clearing the time to be busy with it, and then to be out of town, plus all the usual details of life: hosting a large family dinner for Thanksgiving, harvesting apples and pears, putting the garden to bed. The periodic things, like appointments for me and for others. The emergencies, like my printer dying just as I was scanning my Wordfest contract (a reboot fixed that). My laptop going in for a diagnostic and requiring a heart transplant – I’m hoping I’ll have it back in time for Wordfest.
Writing gets tucked into the corners, which sometimes can be successful, but is never satisfying. I feel like I’m not doing ‘my work’ – just burning up time with all the other stuff that needs to be done.
For me, writing is the work, always, and everything else becomes an interruption. Fun, important, necessary… all kinds of interruptions, but the core of work is always about writing. Perhaps I’m obsessed; perhaps I just really love to write.
Maureen
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