Need: Time

I don’t know how other people do it. You know, have lives, raise children, put away laundry, paint their nails. I need more time, I tell myself, time to do just the small things—forget raising children, I still need to unpack from my trip. Where does the time go?

My weekdays are broken up as follows:

5:30 a.m. (if I am good) or 6:00 a.m. (if I am not so good): get up, shower blindly, fumble through checking emails but forget to answer, lope over to cafe trying not to trip over own two feet

7:00-9:00 a.m.: write, or try to

9:00-9:30 a.m.: subway to work

9:30 a.m.-6:15* p.m.: day job (*except for half-day summer Fridays; starting in September I get off at 5:30 M-F)

6:15-6:25 p.m.: wait for F train

6:45-7:00 p.m.: home around now

7:00-10:00 p.m.: a blurry time in which I eat dinner, check emails and again forget to answer, try to read or clean up or do something productive and end up, usually, collapsing on the couch in a numb stupor too tired to do anything but watch TV

10:00 p.m. (if I am good) or 11:00 p.m. (if I am not so good): go to bed

On weekends you’d think I’d have all this stored-up energy, but alas. I feel like I just need the weekends to recover from the week. I go out to “write” all day on weekends, though I don’t have so much to show for it lately. I go to my writing spot; I look at my words; I write a few paragraphs; I read over all the pages I had before; also I read blogs; I do projects like editing this manuscript for a friend that I promised to have done next week… and the day is gone before it started. Weekend nights are the few times I have with e (he teaches four nights a week now), so I refuse to write at night when he’s home.

My exhaustion grows larger with each week. Yesterday I actually went home early from my weekend writing spot to NAP. I never nap. But I could barely keep my eyes open; it felt like someone had slipped me a Nyquil. Fact is, I am more and more tired, for no real reason I can see, as I don’t do much of anything to merit it. This makes me wonder how other writers do it. They make better use of their time, I’m sure. They avoid distractions, and we all know that’s my downfall. They are stronger, more focused people than I. I’d like to know their secrets.

This would be an annoying thing, under normal circumstances, but seeing as I have a deadline with this novel… What if I have to take a month off from life to finish it?

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