Making time isn’t half as easy as killing it. This is as unarguable as the fact that, if you want to write, you have to make time.
Time is an elusive thing. You think you have it and then—bam!—someone knocks on your dorm room door to say, “How ‘bout dinner?”
I’ve got time on the brain today (which may be because the Ladies meet tonight, and I have a paper I keep putting off because everything else sounds so much more interesting). It could be argued that, in writing this post, I, too, am killing time. I don’t have time to argue that. That’s an issue for another day.
My favorite frazzled-writer-help-guide A Writer’s Time by Kenneth Atchity talks about time. Atchity suggests that a writer stop doing things other people can do and focus on what only she can do (I think my mother would have a few words for this man—what an excuse to get out of taking out the trash. “I can’t, Mom! I have to write—but you can take out the trash!” I don’t think she’d buy that.)
I think Atchity’s best advice is 1) to act, rather than react and 2) to maximize your time when you’re doing things like taking out the trash. It’s really easy to talk about writing (I do it with the Ladies all the time). It’s another thing to write. Talking’s only good to a point; after all, it’s writing that makes you a writer!
Maximizing your time harkens back to Writer’s Block Block. Forget singing in the shower—plotting stories in the shower (or when you have to take out the trash or, worse, wash dishes) is a pretty good use of time. When you finally sit down to write, you don’t have to waste your writing time with thinking.
As Tock the “watch-dog” says in Norton Juster’s The Phantom Tollbooth, “It’s bad enough wasting time without killing it.”