Habits are excruciating to make and oh-so-easy to break—especially the habit of writing. Most of us have been through one type of upheaval or another during the past 15 months that have thrown even long-established life habits out the window. For me, the most recent disturbance to my writing routine wasn’t the result of the pandemic, but the happier and more exciting process of moving house.
It was an in-town move. We found a house we loved in a ridiculously convenient location. It even has a writing room in it—one small enough that there’s no room for anyone else to intrude with toys or paperwork because there’s just enough space for my desk and a beautiful bay window overlooking the back yard. Visions of all the books I would write in that room burst across my vision the first time I laid eyes on it. This room was one of the major selling point of the house. But before I could start writing in my lovely little writing room, I had to, you know, pack and move all my worldly goods from one house to another. And then unpack them all and figure out how to organize everything in our new space.
The house itself is a dream, but moving—as ever—is closer to nightmare. Why do I have all this stuff? More importantly, why do my family members have all that stuff? My stuff is obviously important. Of course I need the couple hundred boxes of books we hauled over from the old house. But surely somebody else could do without something else to make this process a little faster? Anybody? No? Yeah, that’s what I thought.
And so for the past couple of months, time I would normally have devoted to writing has been devoted instead to the sorting, packing, moving, and unpacking of stuff. We are currently sleeping, eating, and generally functioning in the new house. But every single room has boxes in the corner. Or in the middle of the floor. This process will go on for some time. If you know the time limit on the excuse—don’t mind the boxes; we just moved!—please let me know, because I will be pushing very hard and possibly leaping past that limit.
But what I can’t do is continue devoting all my time to unpacking. I am still a writer, so I still must write. I knew this when I stopped writing to pack, and so I made a plan. I work best with goals and deadlines, so I took a look at my summer and found an occasion when I knew I would be free of all other obligations for several hours in a row. Then I marked the time down on my calendar as my get-back-to-writing date. I will continue unpacking, organizing, and arranging my house for the foreseeable future, but that task will not be allowed to usurp my writing time past June 12. Because on June 12, I go back to writing.
So, how about you? I know you’ve had writing routine upheaval at some point. How did you manage it and get back to your story? If you’re still struggling with that issue, try pinpointing a date on your calendar as go time. Then tell a writing partner, friend, or family member about the goal you’ve set. Getting back to normal won’t just happen. We have to work for it.