Parenting and Writing

by Elizabeth S. Craig, @elizabethscraig

Parenting and writing.  It can be a challenging combination … or can it?  A lot depends on the child/teen in question, the parent’s schedule and non-child stressors, and the writing we’re trying to accomplish.

I read a lot of blog posts and the majority of what I read about writing mothers (in particular…writing fathers tend to have a different mindset, which I’ll get to in a moment) makes me sad.  They seem conflicted and guilty, torn between writing and wanting to do a good job as a mother.

A beautifully well-written piece from  writer Sarah Curtis Graziano in Brevity:

Please don’t disturb mommy for one hour while I write, just one hour. Barely ten minutes pass before one of them opens my office door to peek in at me, always to ask a ridiculous question. The answer doesn’t matter. She only wants a visual of this mother, so different than the one she used to know, with her hundred-yard stare, her finger repeating a tight circle on her temple as she works on something that steals her away like a boat sweeping her off toward the horizon. What is it? my child wonders, reaching out her hand to pull me back.

To be perfectly honest, part of what makes me sad when I read these types of  articles is that they make me guilty that I’m not  guilty.  Although I’m very susceptible to guilt in a general sense, my approach balancing parenting and writing is one area where I really don’t feel it as much–the only times I’ve felt it, in fact, is when I know I’ve broken my own rules. A rule, for instance, would be looking at my laptop when my son or daughter is trying to have a conversation with me (during a specified non-writing time).

And, believe me, when my kids were younger, I had the same exact type of experience as Ms. Graziano.  Here is a blog post I wrote in 2009 about my experience on a radio show.  I juggled a radio appearance with picking up a nauseated child at school, and handling an 8-year old who was not following instructions.  Did I feel guilty that I was on this program and that my child was knocking on my bedroom door the whole time?  No, honestly, I didn’t.  I was more annoyed and perplexed: why weren’t my directions being followed? (I later found out that I hadn’t done a good job explaining that being on the radio meant being on the phone.) I also had a big picture sense of the afternoon: in the overall scheme of things, unless the house is burning down while I ignored the knocks on my door, an hour or 30 minutes for a promo-related call was not going to permanently damage these kids.  I followed up my radio time, as I recall, with a calm, productive chat with my daughter on the theme of boundaries and then played the hula-hoop game on the Wii with her.

Why don’t I feel guilty when my writing or promo takes me (really, ever so briefly) away from my kids?  Because I’m demonstrating that art is worth spending dedicated time on.  And that my art is worth spending dedicated time on.  Just as they’re both important for me to spend dedicated time on.

99% of the posts that dads write on parenting and writing are different–they don’t seem to have the guilty undertones. In fact, these dads usually feel they’re spending better quality or more time with their kids.  I wonder if this has to do with general societal expectations for a mother versus a father.

Here is an excellent post from writer Alec Nevala-Lee.  An excerpt (forgive its length, but I found the message so helpful):

When children arrive, you’re suddenly confronted by enough complications for a second job, and between daycare, toilet training, trips to the doctor and afternoons at the playground, most of your inner resources become devoted to satisfying the demands of the insatiable creature in your house. And you’re already doing that with a novel.

But what I’ve found is that having a child has made my life more simple, not the opposite. It imposes a kind of ruthless editing of the nonessential: one by one, the things that I took for granted have fallen away, from going to the movies to sleeping late, and I’ve found that I don’t really mind. And it forces me into the sort of perpetual engagement with the world—largely through my daughter’s questions about it—that a writer needs more than anybody. When you’re single, or married without kids, you find ways of filling your spare time: few of us can spend more than five or hours writing without burning out, and the rest of the day is occupied with miscellaneous activity. Having children leads to a fundamental reorganization of those free moments. You find yourself streamlining relentlessly, to an extent that wouldn’t occur to you if you didn’t have that internal pressure, until you’re left with work, kids, and not much else. That’s simplification in its purest form, and it leads to a series of renunciations, a letting go of the superfluous, that stick to an extent that they otherwise wouldn’t. If a writer’s psychic goal is strip away the meaningless while focusing intently on the meaningful, having kids is as effective a way as any.

Writer Dan Blank also feels as if he’s prioritizing his family life while being a working writer, and for the same reasons: he’s making adjustments in his free time to spend it as a family.  He explains in this post:

“For example, spending time with my family matters deeply to me. Because of that, I work from home full-time, and I say “no” to nearly every social obligation that doesn’t include them.

Is that a little extreme? Yep. But I never lay awake at night worried that I’m not spending enough time with my family. My reason for this? Because again and again, I’ve heard older generations express that one of their big regrets in life was not spending enough time with family. I am listening to their wisdom, and I am taking action on it.”

So some of the balance problem and the guilt may be due to societal pressures and general mindset of the writer.  I have a few suggestions for balance and for feeling better about writing while parenting:

Infants:

I put my daughter in a safe place (crib) for ‘quiet time’ for both her and me when I first started writing.  I gave her board books (from both our home collection and the library’s…all of which I’d read to her at least 100 times apiece, so she knew the stories) and told her to read while I wrote.  Again, I kept this at 10-15 minutes. I think that’s a fair amount of time for most infants/toddlers.

Younger kids: 

You can’t explain too much about what you’re doing.  Really.  Case in point is my post on the radio show outcome.  I shouldn’t have said I’d be on the radio…I should have said I’d be on the phone and to give me some time while I’m on the phone.  You can also set an actual timer outside your door that counts down to zero and has an alarm when it’s okay to come in.  For preschool age, I used to try just 10 minutes.  I can write a page in 10 minutes and we can all at least make some very focused progress in that amount of time (lists are a great tool to stay productive in shorts amount of time if you don’t feel you can work on the actual text of your story in that period).

The next part is for kids of all ages:

Give them a time when you are available. Reward them for giving you time to write (especially the younger kids).  Play Old Maid. Throw a Frisbee. Get on the wii. Read a book to them. Ask them how school went (I found the more specific the questions, the better: who did you sit with at lunch?)

Tied in with availability: 

When you are spending time with them, spend it with them…not in front of a laptop.  Focus on them.

Tips for older kids (really, even preschoolers can engage in some of this): 

Involve the kids as much as possible

Do they have an opinion between two potential covers?

Explain what you’re working on (coming up with an outline, writing a scary story, trying to connect on social media).

Older children can help with downloading spreadsheets of KDP earnings, advise on social media, update a website, etc. This process can even help them learn skills that could help them in school or work.

Something to experiment with: I found there was peace in numbers–invite their friends over.  Or take them all to the park or the skating rink–oddly, it can be easier to write when there’s a crowd.

In general:

Write in short, dedicated bursts. Try writing sprints. Afterwards, check for continuity errors and transition issues.

And I’ll end with probably my most controversial suggestion to consider.  But I feel like it’s realistic and may make our writing more viable (this is strictly from a commercial standpoint). What is it that you’re trying to write? That’s not to say that every book doesn’t have its own individual challenges, but some projects are inherently more challenging than others.  Maybe, if you know you’re heading into a rough patch (you’ve got a newborn, your teen is having a tough time with several classes in school,  you’re trying to potty-train, your child has been diagnosed with a health issue that it will take some time to tackle with a variety of doctors) , it might be good to put off the research-laden project for a book 2 or 3 in a genre-fiction project you’ve got going.

With everything in life, there should be balance.  I don’t think we should spend all our available free time writing.  I don’t think we should spend all our available free time parenting.  I hope any parent who is feeling a little overwhelmed and torn can experiment with these or other approaches, or modify these approaches to see if it can help them feel more satisfied with their performance as both a writer and a parent.

Do you ever feel guilty about your writing time?  What tips can you offer for other parents?

Photo via Visual Hunt