Today I am bringing you a story about my writing habits.

HOW I MANAGE NOT TO WRITE EVERY DAY…OR NOT WRITE AT ALL.

It has been five months since I have written.  Sounds like some kind of a confession, which it is.  When I wake up every morning, I have all the right intentions.  It is now 10 a.m. and I’ve just walked into my study.  I am seated at my laptop and am ready to write.  And do you know what?  I want another cup of coffee.  But I just sat down.  I don’t need more coffee.

My mantra for today and every day is not to leave my chair until I have written for two hours or produced 2,000 words, whichever comes first.  There may be no X’s and O’s, and the words must be real words that form sentences that make sense.  Revisions count for time spent in my chair.  The type size doesn’t matter according to my rules although I could fill more pages with larger type.  And I’d feel more productive if my objective were to produce six pages per week using 16 point type.  But that would be cheating.  Maybe 14?  I use 12.

It’s cold in here.  I am not allowed to get up until I reach my objective, but I may roll my chair back and get my sweater which hangs on a chair behind me.  However, the sports medicine doctor told me it would be better for my lower back if I stood up every half hour.  That’s easy to remember.  I am now starring at the blue face on my desk clock.  It is now 10:15.  I have written 263 words.  I’ll stand up at 10:30.

The phone is ringing.  My caller ID tells me it’s the dentist’s office.  I need to answer it.  My tooth hurts.  Glad I picked up the phone.  The dentist is available to cut my back right molar in half tomorrow morning at 9 a.m.  Tooth number 31 will now be referred to as number 31A and 31B.  (Every tooth has a number ranging from one to thirty-two.)  When a tooth is divided in two parts, it is referred to as a hemisection.  During a root canal procedure some years ago, a former dentist wanted to stabilize the tooth by putting a post in the canal, but the post missed the canal and cracked the tooth.  An x-ray revealed the tooth’s history to my present dentist who asked me to let him know when the tooth hurt.    And now it finally does.  Oh rats.  I’ll have another tooth to floss.

I’m on a roll here.  They say writers need to write about a topic they know something about.  Well, I have clocked too many hours in the dentist’s chair over the past six months.  An endodontist recently finished a root canal on tooth number three, an upper right molar.  It now sports a new crown as does tooth number 20, a lower left premolar.  My late husband collected art and when I opened my mouth he only saw the money he could have spent on fine oil paintings.    His vote was for dentures.

Previous dentists made decisions that led to rework by my present dentist, but I take responsibility for the rest of the recent dental work.  I chewed bubble gum cigars (the whole cigar at one time) into my 40s and I do admit to being a habitual ice chewer.  Or at least I used to be.  My mother had soft teeth, which I inherited.  But she didn’t chew gum.  She said, “Ladies do not chew gum.”  I needed to listen to her for other reasons as well.  Sugar in the gum caused decay and ice broke teeth and crowns.

I am not saying my dentist keeps me from writing, but dental work is time consuming – a seven minute walk to the train, 30 minutes on the train to the city and another seven minute walk to his office from the train station.  And then at least one to one and one half hours in the chair plus the reverse trip home.  It’s a disruption to the creative side of my brain.

Enough about dentists.  It has taken me 45 minutes to write 692 words. I want to stop and finish my NFL picks for the football pool but I won’t.  I had 14 perfect picks last week.  I know!   I could play solitaire.  I do need to turn off Nina Simone.  I am listening to her and not concentrating on writing.  I’ll let her finish the last track, “My Baby Don’t Care for me” and turn her off from my laptop.  I don’t have to get up.  She just finished and the house is silent.

The phone is ringing.  It’s my doctor’s office.  I am going to pick up the phone to confirm a time to get a flu shot on Friday.  I got the confirmation.  I have written 808 words.  The phone is ringing again.  I see it is my dear friend Dorothy.  I’ll call her back as a reward for reaching my daily objective and we’ll set a date for lunch.

Sandy the hurricane is headed my way, and I need to clean out the gutters and rake the leaves around the drain in my garden.  But that has to wait.  I need to stay glued to my chair.  The mail man just put mail through the slot in my door.  I can tell by the thud that the latest issue of Harper’s Bazaar is down there waiting for me.  Is there an apostrophe in the word Harper’s?  I’d better go down and check.  No.  That is bold faced cheating.  I just want to drool over fancy clothes.  And now the washing machine is beeping.  I need to put clothes in the drier.

It has been two hours and 1,007 words.  The phone is ringing.  I’ll bet the plumber is calling to tell me he’s coming over to unclog the drain in my shower.  I’d better take the call.  He’ll be over in 15 minutes.  I need to make my bed and pick up the bathroom before he arrives.