Writing Practice to the Rescue!

backhoe interupts writing practiceI have fashioned a new writing practice for myself. Routine are important elements in a writer’s life. I wanted the security and familiarity it could offer. It became especially important when my life turned upside down.

Making Peace Out of Chaos

It began the week after Christmas. I was startled awake by the sound of chainsaws. Then, there was the crashing sounds of limbs breaking and the shaking of the floor and house. Construction of the rain garden and drainage fix on our land had begun.

Through a lack of foresight and bad planning, our lot became the trough for the surface runoff from the main drag, the schools, and the subdivision across the street. The runoff dug an ever larger trench into the land, with flooding and nasty sediment filling the yard every spring. The city had come to fix its wrong.

The first two weeks meant backhoes, semis of boulders, and diggers on the property. The large picture windows of our house, cabin really, meant no privacy as workers walked the length of the trench, laying out guidelines for the trench. It was hell. It was also driving me nuts.

I didn’t want to leave as the workers took down trees close to the house. I didn’t want to come home to a tree trunk through my roof. So, I stayed. But I needed an escape.

Welcoming a New Writing Practice

Usually, I sit at my desk and listen to Focus @Will. This time, I used headphones to take me away. I plugged into the Ambient channel. It was like magic. I am so grateful for noise-cancelling headphones!

Midst the chaos, I found peace. The music negated any sounds of backhoes and back-up lights. I was in my own world. And it was a world occupied by the characters of my working novel, another in my Jack Hunter series of mysteries. This one is titled, Lying at the Door.

I must confess to feeling a bit naughty. I made myself totally inaccessible. I couldn’t hear my phone ring, nor did I want to. I didn’t hear the chiming of my Ship’s Bell app (which I love, BTW). It was just me, the music, and the world of my mystery. I couldn’t have asked for more.

It seemed like such a simple thing, but it empowered me. I faced a problem and found a solution that restored calm in my life. If I could tackle that annoyance, I could handle anything, even outrageous interruptions to my writing practice. My dad’s words, “There’s no such word as can’t,” sounded in my mind.

Yes, Dad, you were right.

By Chris DR/http://mystery.weborglodge.com

photo credit: Moved 18 feet west via photopin (license)