Time management and lists
Using even very rudimentary time management and lists of things I need to do, then going one step further and setting up a weekday timetable, helps me to focus. What I’ve been putting off becomes harder to ignore, besides which I find I have much more headspace to make life more interesting and enjoyable.
Compiling lists puts all outstanding matters up front, spelled out in black and white, so I don’t have to carry reminders around in my head. If I go one step further and compile the rudiments of a timetable for each weekday, I can change and refine what I decide to do, testing out what works. In itself, the thought that goes into setting up a timetable gives me the added incentive to follow through and commit to what I’ve already decided.
It doesn’t matter so much what I put in my schedule: respecting the thought and commitment implicit in setting one up, I find it much easier to tailor my other tasks around it without having to find awkward excuses. To say, “I’m sorry, I’m busy” is enough, and far easier than, “I’ve timetabled work that day,” which always invites a counter argument, “Oh, but surely, just this once?” or “But you don’t have to work today, surely?” Beware of people planting the idea that what they have planned for you is more important than what you have timetabled.

Another major bonus of timetabling deployed for even a couple of weeks, is that allocated timeslots quickly become habit forming. We get used to doing a thing regularly at a set time, and so it gets easier. Writing between, say, 2pm and 5pm on weekdays; hoovering on Monday mornings early; supper prep never before five of an evening. Little steps like this soon build into a self-respecting habit, which also means it is very much easier to relax and enjoy our free time when we have scheduled a “Weekend off!”
Thanks for listening.
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November 5, 2020
Keeping going
Fran Macilvey Fran's School of Hard Knocks, The Rights & Wrongs of Writing, Women's fiction and chic lit 2 Comments
Keeping going
For a long time now, possibly years, I’ve been toying with giving up my writing. In any event, lately, I haven’t been writing much at all, and the dismay of my paralysis has been hard to get my head round.
So I’ve tried to ignore this particular patch of desert, to pretend that lockdown and its outcomes do not affect me. Though my situation remains surprisingly similar to what it has always been, the realities of lockdown, with their peculiar mix of worry and resignation, make working on a fictional series about hard-pressed women – and men – rather hard to justify.
Do I need to justify it? Lately, there have been so many good reasons why I should stop writing: I have lots of calls on my time, from my husband, my daughter, my sisters, friends, my mother, even my daughter’s guinea-pigs; but sitting here, crafting and editing my work, I am reminded again that I do sincerely delight in this particular combination of concentration and escapism.
Even when so much of writing seems to be carried out it a private world that feels like a vacuum, how could I excuse a final decision to stop, when writing makes me smile and feel good? I also know that it is one real, tangible thing I do, that my husband sincerely supports. He wants me to keep writing. And I’ve seen how the things that contribute to our happiness and sense of fulfilment make the routines and hardships of life easier to live with. Constructing fictional worlds is the nearest I’ll ever get to time travel; or, at this time, to actual travel, which is another reason why I will be keeping going.
I’m working now on a final edit of my three novels, which though they each stand alone, also represent a series of characters whose lives may work out in so many different ways. I’m almost driven to conclude that my novels are, as they stand, only outlines, scoping out what might happen, never cast in stone.
That I’m keeping going in itself gives me reason to feel celebratory.
Thanks for reading.
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