“Butt in Seat”: Making Time for Writing

Exactly one year ago, I decided to become a writer again.

I know, I know — one doesn’t really ever stop being a writer. It’s a feeling and talent that, once discovered, exists within you forever. However, after barely putting pen to paper (or fingertips to keyboard) for many years, and after repeatedly shoving my creative side down into a deep, dark corner in favor of other pursuits, I think it’s safe to say that, during those times, I was not a writer.

That all changed a year ago when I read an article about the selfishness of writing and realized that it was finally time to dedicate my upcoming Christmas break to writing my novel.

I knew something had shifted in me that November 21, 2017. I had made promises to myself before about re-committing to writing, but I had never successfully followed through on them. This time, though, it felt different. This time, I knew something was different – in my life, in me and my resolve. And, most importantly, in how much I wanted to catch this dream I had been chasing since I was six years old. This dream of being a writer.

A few weeks ago, I read an article by Beth Skwarecki about making time to write in your daily life. It was brought to my attention by one of my favorite bloggers in her “Tuesday Things” post, and, after writing what was probably an inappropriately long comment about it on her page, I decided that my own blog would be a more fitting outlet for discussing this topic.

Skwarecki states the obvious — if you want to become a writer, you need to actually sit down and write. Make the time for it, even if it’s only about 15 minutes each day. Be focused during that time, and try not to let anything derail your plans for writing during that time period.

Sound advice, which reminded me of what a colleague once told me when I asked, with rather undisguised envy, what his secret was to finally writing his own novel.

“Butt in seat,” he said. “Butt in seat.” He looked me squarely in the eye as he said this, his fingertips firmly pressed against the tabletop to emphasize the fact that staying put and committing to your task is perhaps the hardest part of the writing process.

“Got it. Butt in seat,” I repeated.

Skwarecki’s article offers great time management ideas for those still struggling with fitting writing into their schedules. However, what I really loved about this article was the quote from Dorothea Brande, who clearly subscribed to the “selfishness of writing” school of achievement.

Brande recommended setting up a firm writing schedule and sticking to it, adding, “If you fail repeatedly at this exercise, give up writing. Your resistance is actually greater than your desire to write, and you may as well find some other outlet for your energy as early as late.”

Skwarecki noted that she doesn’t really agree with Brande’s advice. I, on the other hand, agree wholeheartedly, albeit with a slight modification: “If you fail repeatedly at this exercise, give up writing [FOR THE TIME BEING]…”

I tried to write my novel for about 10 years before getting more than a page or two on record. I implemented all the recommended writing time management suggestions, and I failed miserably at every turn. Each time I carved out time to write, I would cancel my plans, make an excuse, or legitimately feel I had something more important to do. My novel remained unwritten, and my claim to being “a writer” slipped further and further away.

During those years, my resistance to writing was greater than my desire to write — and it frustrated me to no end. I hated that I couldn’t bring myself to write, and my inability to prioritize writing — something that I had once loved so dearly, that I still claimed to love dearly — just made me feel worse about my failures as a writer.

After a few years of that mental self-flagellation, I let myself off the hook. I told myself, “If you really wanted this, you would have made it happen. So, you must not want it that badly.” It was a disappointing realization, but it did take the pressure off. As Brande suggested, I found other outlets for my creative energy – baking, cooking, entertaining, travel, etc. Oh, building a career, meeting my husband, and buying a house happened along the way, too.

However, once I read that Dederer article, everything changed. I suddenly wanted nothing more than to write. Looking at both that time and at my life now, I get what Brande was talking about. I have put aside many aspects of my usual, daily life for the sake of my art. My house is not as clean as it used to be; laundry sometimes goes undone for more than a week; we’re not entertaining family and friends at the rate we used to; we haven’t taken a vacation in a year and a half.

I thought these changes would bother me more, but, really, they don’t. Apparently, my time to write is now; now is the time in which my desire to write is greater than my resistance.

I just wish I hadn’t pressured myself for so long about writing because, really, my failure to commit to it didn’t mean that I was a failure; it just meant that other things took precedence in my life during that time, and that’s okay. I think that if I had realized and accepted that sooner, I could have saved myself a lot of unnecessary guilt.

November 21, 2018: I am now writing every day, in some form or other. I’ve carved out time for myself and my craft, and I actively plant my “butt in seat” as much as possible these days. (I also make sure to regularly attend Zumba classes so this doesn’t become “butt overflowing seat.” Weight gain is a hazard of committed writing that no one really warns you about.) If you’re someone who is struggling to find time to write, I urge you to do the same. Read Skwarecki’s article. Read Brande’s instructional book for writers, Becoming a Writer. Find a way to make writing a part of your life.

But, if you can’t? That’s okay, too. Give yourself a break and focus your creativity elsewhere. Maybe you’re meant to do something else right now. Once your desire to write becomes greater than your resistance, you’ll find your way back to it.