It's not procrastination, it's LIFE

And it should be lived creatively and enjoyed immensely, as well as used to earn a living and do the chores. But: here's how I'm planning on writing the novel that is always at the bottom of the pile.

I have this new approach to starting the week. Instead of waving goodbye to my children and rushing to my desk to action all the ideas that have landed over the weekend, I pack a rucksack and head to the gym.

I don’t do a workout. I don’t do a class. I don’t even swim. I just sit in the sauna getting really hot and thinking. And then I have a freezing cold shower. And then I sit in the steam room getting really steamy and thinking. Cold shower. Repeat.

When I started doing this, I was a bit embarrassed. Do people know that I do actually work really hard on my career? I’d think, explaining my need for creative thinking time to these fantasy people in my mind.

But, really:

1. No one cares what I’m doing.

2. My career is my own business. My life, too.

3. Anything that gets you away from your phone for an hour is an excellent choice.

4. If you find something that is good for your creativity and your health: DO IT.

5. I don’t have a fifth point but you can’t stop at four.

So, I get home from my sauna/steam etc and realise I’m hungry. I make a healthy lunch and spot some fresh ginger in the fridge. I start peeling and grating it, because I’m sure my gut needs a little bit of ginger to freshen things up.

Now, it’s time for work.

But the washing machine has just finished. I pull the wet clothes into a laundry basket and rest it on my hip so that I can take my ginger tea upstairs to my office, where I’ll also hang out the laundry. It’s hard to carry both the tea and the basket but I manage.

(Do you do this? Multi-tasking when really, it would be more efficient to make two short journeys: one with the laundry basket held in both hands; one back down to collect the tea. Every time I do this, I nearly spill the tea or laundry. And yet, I persist.)

Yesterday’s laundry is, of course, still drying so I sift through it to find the dry-enough bits (damp cuff is ok, wet corner of a towel, that kind of thing). I fold it and take it to the bedrooms to stuff messily into drawers and now, I can hang the wet clothes.

Time has passed. Time keeps passing. And while I choose to spend time at the gym, I am not choosing to spend time doing these chores. They are choosing me. The toilet seat looks dirty. I swear I cleaned the toilet yesterday. Shall I give it a little clean?

STOP.

Ok. But why is my desk so messy and cluttered? I’ll just move things around and maybe give it a wipe with a cloth and some spray (eco, of course). I don’t know where to put these pieces of paper that I need-don’t-need, because I don’t have any spare drawers.

STOP.

I don’t call this procrastination. I call this life. Life is a daily combination of things you want to do and things you need to do. Things I want to do are drink hot chocolate and see my friends and have a sauna and write. Stuff I need to do is chores.

It would be divine to have someone (like me) who cleaned and tidied and hung laundry and made me some brunch before I returned from the gym so that I could get straight into my creative work. But I don’t. I am her. I am the cleaner/tidier/cook.

And I do it at this point in the day, because later my house will be full of children and even more mess and it will not be the time to wipe my desk or clean the smudges off the windows and it certainly won’t be the time to get my head into a creative project.

But what all this means, for me, is that by the time I do get to my desk - following my kind of, I suppose, self-imposed work delays - I need to do the money work. I’m lucky: my work is writing pieces like this and emailing women about their freelance writing.

My money work is truly nourishing and delicious.

However, I would sometimes like to start a new project - or re-visit an old one - like a novel and yet I don’t feel I can commit the ‘work time’ to this, because I won’t be paid for my novel until it’s finished, submitted and I have a book deal. If I get one.

So, that kind of creative work (that pays once it’s complete, and that takes a long time to complete) drops to the bottom of the pile. It sits in my gut, next to the ginger tea, calling my name and rarely getting an answer. Please write the novel…. [echo] [echo].

While at the tip of my fingers, being tapped into the laptop, are my Substack essays, online courses and Zoom links for The Creative Way coaching and consultancy clients. This is work I love, and that I’m paid for and that I prioritise.

But I want to have a poetry collection published too. And to write that novel, or have one of the three I’ve already written published. Maybe another non-fiction book, too. I want. I want. I want. Look, if I was coaching a client, the conversation might go:

Coach: How will you find the time to make this happen?

Client: Well, maybe I could get up an hour earlier, and use that time?

But I can’t do that. I already get up before my family and I dedicate that alone-time, first thing, to: drinking three coffees in peace. Doing 15 minutes of Pilates. Going for a 10-minute walk with a podcast. I love my morning routine.

Client: Or I could work on it for an hour in the evening?

But I love going to bed really early, with my kids. I clock so many hours of sleep and it’s game-changing in terms of mental health and mindset. I would say that right now, I’m happier, healthier and calmer than I’ve… ever been?

Coach: Are you making excuses?

Me [I’m the client, now]: No, I’m having a really nice time, living a wholesome and creative life.

Coach: Ok, then why does having a poetry collection or novel published matter to you right now?

Me: Hmmm. Validation? Prestige? Life-long dream that needs to be realised at some point? I want to write fiction that moves other people in the way other people’s fiction moves me.

Coach: Can you dedicate some of your working hours to one of these projects?

Me: No, I have to earn a living.

Coach: Can I set you a challenge?

Me: Yes please.

Coach: Each time you sit at your desk, I’d like you to spend the first 20 minutes working on the novel or poetry collection. Decide on one, and stick with it.

Me: That sounds manageable.

Coach: No checking emails, Instagram, Substack, WhatsApp, the health of your plants, the washing machine, fridge. A proper commitment to 20 minutes on this creative project.

Me: Ok, I feel a bit panicked. That’s going to be hard but I will do it.

Coach: I’m going to check in with you.

Me: Please do.

Coach: You’re learning to put your creativity first. And yourself.

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We can all create excuses. We can all find something else that is so much more important than writing the novel or making the film or singing the song. But what feels most aligned with the future you want? Diving into paid work, or creative work?

Even if the paid work is creative, we need to sometimes prioritise the creative work that feels like pure creativity. We need that soulful work. We need to start from a place of art rather than bills to be paid. Bills matter. But art does too.

So, what are you going to create?

Annie x

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If you’d like more from me, you might like my latest book Raise your SQ: How the power of spiritual intelligence can change your life in seven days.

Or: my online courses that teach you The Creative Way to become a freelance writer / The Creative Way to earn a living online / How to launch and grow on Substack.

Or, for my complete focus and attention on you and your creative work-life: there’s The Creative Way coaching. Three sessions to ignite your passion and let it explode.

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