Over a bar of soap yesterday morning, my husband said to me, “Cath, I’d like it to be June.” I get that. He’s a high school teacher. June means freedom for him.
I said, “Oh no. There’s a lot of good weather in April and May I don’t want to miss.” In Iowa good weather is a commodity at the moment, and I don’t want to miss much of it.
“That’s true,” he said, “but I still want it to be June.”
“Okay,” I answered. “You fast forward to June, and I’ll catch up to you after I’ve lived through April and May. I’m sure you’ll wait for me.”
***
My April and May look to be busy. April has an academic conference and a science fiction junket. May is full of graduation. I’m not going to grocery list my work chores. Suffice it to say, there’s a lot of things I need to get done. There always is. My April and May could be hard, but you know what, I want to live them. They’re part of my life, and I want that part! I’m getting old enough that I don’t want to fritter away any part of my life.
That includes my development in becoming a writer. We all dream of the day we will be considered pro. Hey, I was dreaming of that day this morning, just as I missed my turn to breakfast. I want a Terry Pratchett ending to my writing quest–a rising tide of money comes in and washes me away from the desk of my day job. I look forward to that day.
Meanwhile, I realize that now will never come again. So many of us are in such a hurry to become published writers that we often forget to savor the moments we are unpublished. What? you ask with a resounding note. Writing in obscurity doesn’t do much for the people who are writing for recognition, and I respect that.
Writing in obscurity works for me. Sure, I don’t have a choice. Of course, I want to publish. What I really want to do, however, is write a good book. It takes me about a year to write a good book and still have my day job, to undertake the necessary research, to focus on finding the characters, to live the story, to share it with friends. To do all this, I generally need about a year, give or take a few breaks. I’m at the beginning of that year.
While I’ve been taking a run at publication, I’ve cranked out a book in a year, a middle grade novel in 3 months (what mutant author pulled that off? Not me!), and several revised and new short stories. With the exception of Hulk Hercules, none of these works has had a deadline attached.
No deadlines. That’s sad for an author.
And yet…here is time, unpressured time for me to focus on myself as an artist. Here is time, not measured by anyone else, for me to improve my craft, create my real characters, and truly enjoy writing for the sheer joy of writing. Here it is, the most artistic freedom I will ever have in my career as an author. I do want to publish more, and I’m sure I will, because I’m a persistent cuss, but right now I can do anything I want to. How heady is that?
I’m being very careful to not fritter away the April and May of this time. All things come in their time, including this chance, this year to write another book with which I am satisfied and with which I can stretch myself. Some day, when I have deadlines, I will want this time back. I will want to remember it fondly.
Catherine
