Hi, all. It’s my birthday, and I’m thinking about time.
I ran the half marathon in Atlantic City yesterday. It was beautiful—sunny and cool, with a flat four or five miles of boardwalk at the end. Parts of the race were suprisingly emotional for me. When we first lived in New Jersey, we lived in Ventnor, just a few miles down from Atlantic City, and I used to run on that boardwalk. I had a baby and a toddler then, and it was a really hard year. I loved running by the ocean, but we were really lonely and out of place at the shore, and the baby was on a constant cycle of ear infections/pink eye/antibiotics/ad infinitum and the toddler was waking up screaming in the night for no discernible reason. So the idea that five years later I’d be running a half marathon on that same boardwalk—I’m not sure I would have believed we’d all make it. And after the nearly two years of pandemic we’ve all been through, it was surprisingly moving to be with this big crowd of people who’d all trained for this really hard thing. The way the race course is set up, there are lots of points where you can see the people ahead and behind you, and every time I’d come near a group of other runners, I’d feel like yelling, look at us! this is so hard, and we’re doing it!
I did not actually yell that because I’m not quite that earnest in real life, and because I was running and needed my air to breathe. But you get the idea.
When the first marathoner crossed the finish line (truly not that long after I finished my half! those people are unbelieveably fast!), the announcer said something that struck me: he’d run 26.2 miles, but really it was just the last 26.2 miles of hundreds. And writing is like that, too. The words that become the final thing are just the visible effort. Time is what stitches together the words from shitty first draft to final version.
So I’m thinking about time—the time it takes to train for a race, the time it takes to write a book or a poem or even a really good sentence. Let’s recommit this week to finding, stealing, or making time to write.
A little reminder: in week one we talked about the secret to finding time to write. In that newsletter, I wrote about the idea that good writing takes time, and my realization about what kind of that means:
The time that writing takes isn’t passive calendar time. Your book is not a little mushroom that will grow on its own in the dark. The chapters won’t bloom in a word file as you promise yourself you’ll get back to them when you can find the time. The time that writing takes is time at a desk or time talking with a friend who can help you untangle a structural issue or time walking and thinking and then recording what you’ve figured out along the way. Good work takes time, yes—but time is something you have to give to your work.
All of that to say: there is no secret to finding time to write. (There is no trick.) I know it. You know it. The freelancing farmwives knew it in all the way back in Wisconsin in 1951. Time to write will never just appear to you. If you want to write, you’ll have to find, make, or steal the time to do it.
(The farmwives make sense if you go back and read the original post, I promise. ;) )
That newsletter was way back at the beginning of September, which feels like several lifetimes ago right now. How are you doing with finding, stealing, or making time for your writing? Can you find, steal, or make a little more time this week?
two tasks for today
Commit to your writing time for the week. I’d encourage to block out a chunk of time and then protect that time. Treat your writing time as an appointment and keep it the same way you would a hair cut or a dentist appointment.
Share your goals for the week. There’s magic in writing things down, and there’s magic in sharing your intentions out loud. If you share your goals in the comments, we’ll all be cheering for you this week, and I’ll check in on you on Friday to see how you did. If that feels too public, you can email me (just reply to this newsletter!), or you can just write it down someplace where you’ll see it.
I’ll be back on Friday. Happy October!
I’d love to hear about your plans for making, finding, and stealing time to write this week. If you have a friend you think would benefit from some encouragement in their writing life, I’d love for you to share this newsletter. You can always reply to this email, comment below, or find me on twitter (@nancy_reddy) and instagram (@nancy.o.reddy).
Happy birthday, Nancy!
And thank you for your encouragement and cheering from your OWN marathons!
I'm now starting to look at the finish line and figure out whether/how I am going to reach all the goals I'd set.
One of the things I've learned during this time is how important it is to change up activities-- keeping myself alert and interested as a first goal, and not merely a byproduct or nice extra.
Also experimenting with a poem that involves writing one line/day, mixing longer, manageable projects with more focused work.
Translation, too.
I'm also using this as a guideline when I write: Is this interesting to ME? Am I interested? Such a simple question, but so easy to lose sight of...
Yes, happy birthday and congrats on the run! I don't know how you do it! I'm trying for five hours this week; I've been really stuck--putting in time but feel like I'm not making forward progress but ruminating, etc. I know I'm scared of the two things I'm doing (one small, one big), so I'm trying to come out of that. Thank you for all of your insights!