Who Has Enough Time? Or, How Do Real Writers Do It?

I know why I never get around to writing my memoir. It struck me in the wee hours this morning after I’d fed and “scooped” the cats and dealt with the laundry. I was just about to sneak back under the covers with my coffee and “The Idiot” (Dostoevsky’s book – not Greg) when it came clear.

I have no time to write because in my free time I am either a) pushing through a book with seven or eight more waiting underneath or b) playing photographer or c) watching a movie when my brain has already turned off for the day.

For as long as I can remember, my daily goal has been to snatch a few minutes of solitude (evening reading, see above, doesn’t work for me) in which to read. Reading is my reward for all the other things I do to maintain status in marriage and society.

But you’re retired, they tell me. Your time is your own!

True, I no longer head off to an office at 8 and return at 5. But there remain obligations and it’s not always easy to see which are self-imposed and which are necessary for living in a world that I share with other people.

CLEAN & TIDY – I try to imagine what our living space would look like if I weren’t constantly putting things where they “go,” and keeping things (relatively) clean. Laundry, for instance. With just two of us, what’s the big deal, you say? In America we are expected to shower daily, which implies a change of clothes. Exercising means another change of clothes. Even sleeping, for the energy-conscious, requires clothing. Then there are the things you dry off with, the things you wrap your pillows and mattress with, and the things with which you clean other things.

FOOD – It must be planned, purchased, properly stored, and prepared for consumption. After eating, there is clean-up. All in the name of trying to be healthy, trim, and meet spousal expectations. Sometimes I think even loading and unloading the dishwasher takes more effort than washing each item as it’s used. And the whole meal prep thing. If it takes more time to make it than it takes to eat it, it’s just dumb.

MAINTAINING STUFF – What if I stopped all medical, dental, eye appointments and prescription runs? What if I stopped all maintenance on my body? No more exercise, leg-shaving, tooth brushing, haircuts . . . And when something breaks, what’s with this obligation to fix or replace? Why must I own a car, provide it fuel, have its tires rotated and its oil changed? What if I refused to shovel snow or maintain the yard? What if I never did the banking, paid the bills, kept tax records, or sold off the remaining 1,400 books in my Amazon inventory? What if I stopped taking photos and organizing their storage?

SOCIALIZING – what if I never answered the phone, responded to e-mail, read the snail-mail, accepted an invitation, checked Facebook, had friends over and forgot everyone’s birthday and Christmas? What if I never acknowledged the presence of my husband or said no to every opportunity for helping someone out? What if I never tried to keep up with the news?

If I imagine a spreadsheet with columns to account for 24 hours in various categories each day, I’d have a huge percentage of hours under the heading of “sleep.”

Ahhhh, yes….sleeping. Therein lies the problem. I love sleeping. Dearly. I allow myself a healthy helping and cherish my unconscious hours with enormous zeal.

So if the question boils down to my epitaph (which I’ve had many occasions to ponder lately) and I have to choose between “She wrote her memoir” and “She made sure she got her sleep” I might just choose the latter. Sleeping makes all the difference in my world. And a memoir? Who would read it?

I hope this ramble has you re-evaluating your time. ‘Tis the season, after all.