I see a lot of #AmWriting posts on social media.
And every time I scroll past one I squirm a little. With envy. And outrage. With a light dusting of self-hatred.
Because the guilt is real. There are approximately 787 half-written manuscripts on my hard drive, most of them parked on my desktop with cryptic filenames like ‘Duck 17’ and ‘Where stories S’ and ‘Igor Oops?’.
So I’ve decided to write my own list, of things I’ve been doing recently in lieu of #AmWriting. Because if Igor Oops is owed anything, it’s an explanation.
Things I’ve been doing that #ArentWriting
Making Vegemite toast.
Picking Vegemite toast off the floor.
Discovering the baby eating the toilet brush. Apparently tastier than Vegemite toast. Running a bath at 10am.
Drop-offs, drop-offs. Pick-ups, pick-ups. The rhythm of life. At least on daycare days.
Marvelling at the wonderfulness of daycare educators.
Poring over Ingrid Bartkowiak’s initial sketches for Naturopolis and just generally luxuriating in her talent. They are beautiful!
Giving self a stern reminder that looking at beautiful Ingrid sketches isn’t actually MY work.
OK. Coffee.
Writing copy about sustainable handbags. (It’s a thing! They’re called C*O*O*P, and they’re made from recycled plastic bottles! Genius!)
Writing copy about the benefits of steam-based wellness rituals.
Writing copy about Integrated Portal Development, Cloud-Based Solutions and DevOps.
Googling ‘DevOps’ exhaustively. Feeling appropriately exhausted.
Reading Fiona Murphy’s thoughtful, oh-so-precise memoir The Shape of Sound.
Reading Meg McKinlay’s Surface Tension. Love.
Unpacking the bag of library books, which has been on the sofa since the day lockdown was declared and we did a panicked last-minute library run. Discovering this gem: When You Were Small, by Sara O’Leary.
Answering the deeply unanswerable questions of a 4 year old: What does ‘beforehand’ mean?’ ‘What were dinosaurs called when they were alive?’ ‘Where is up?’
Sending out a quiet prayer for the homeschoolers out there. Lockdown is hard. Being a teacher too, when you’re not, is just so MUCH.
Writing a piece for Mamamia.
Responding to a neurolinguistic programming guy who wants copy written. I feel like there’s a punchline in here somewhere but can’t be bothered digging it up.
Ordering things from The Sun Bookshop, marvelling at the free local delivery.
Instagram stalking publishers.
Refreshing inbox.
Re-reading the manuscript I sent said publisher. Should have fixed up that bit.
Actually, all the bits.
More Vegemite toast.
Walking. Staring. Washing.
SO MANY SOLO SOCKS. WHY?
DevOps again. Amends now. Done!
Wait is there a moment
free to
actually….
write?
I KNOW! I’LL WRITE A BLOG POST ABOUT NOT WRITING! GENIUS!
Mea culpa.