Musical Chairs

I envy writers who have one place where they do much of their creative work. A favorite desk in a quiet office. A neighborhood cafe with the kind of ambiance that inspires words on a page. A routine that revolves around the craft of good storytelling.

It took me a long time to realize my own process needed a readjustment. I often waited to finish work trips to write in small bursts. When I’d arrive home, but fail to get any words on the page, I wondered why I wasn’t making any progress. Busy with everything else but my own creativity, I didn't make enough room for it. My job can keep me away from home for ten or more days. Consistency eluded me. 

All of that changed during the pandemic. I was forced to quarantine in a midwestern hotel room for two weeks due to a Covid exposure. It was one of the biggest gifts I’ve experienced as a writer. Far from home, I finally finished the first draft of my debut novel, something I’d been attempting to do for five years. 

Everything changed after that. I realized I was allowing my day job to get in the way. Instead of clinging to a cozy, familiar place to write, I forced myself to write in chaotic airports, rowdy hotel bars, neighborhood libraries, and random cafes. Whenever a hotel room is equipped with a desk, I sit down and write. No desk, no problem. I prop my iPad up on a pillow and plant myself where it looks comfortable. I once dragged a chair into the bathroom on a ski trip because it had a long counter and I couldn’t sleep. While my spouse slept, I wrote through the night, the toilet a convenient two steps away.  

When I consider the number of hours I’ve spent on my book, I often feel like I’m training for a marathon. How many times can a book get rewritten? It hurts my head to count. I’ve developed writing muscles that I can flex at a moment’s notice. Squeezing in a little creative time here and there helps me take baby steps in the right direction. If a flight is delayed, I find a good place to stand at a counter, set a timer (so I don’t get too carried away) and go for it. 

There are times when I’m simply too tired to write a word. When this happens, I try to be kind to myself. I let it all go, take a hot bath, then try again the next day. 

My willingness to write anywhere and everywhere on the go has served me well. Early morning. Midday. After dinner. Whenever. Wherever. On an iPad or iPhone. My favorite app is Google Docs. With one update, all my devices reflect the new edits. 

On my commute home, I am usually exhausted. Even then, I disconnect from wifi, put on my Sony headset, and slip into the world I’ve created in my book. Crossing three states to get there, it often feels like only minutes have passed when the plane touches down in Billings, Montana. On the two-hour drive to Wyoming, I listen to audiobooks and marvel at the skills of other writers.  

I finally pitched my book at a writing conference in my hometown of Chicago. Several agents and small book publishers asked for pages. It felt good to put myself out there. I got some great feedback, but my project still needed work. So I returned to the trenches for yet another rewrite. While at the conference, I met my critique partner, Courtney, who happens to live in my cowboy state, three and a half hours south of me. Courtney and I literally jumped up from the dinner table and hugged when we found out we both lived in Wyoming. 

Ever since that conference, we’ve swapped pages and given each other feedback. It’s been an invaluable connection. As I make my way through yet another round of rewrites, I can almost hear Courtney’s feedback as I edit: show, don’t tell; or cut. I feel lucky to have met her. 

Now that I’ve made it a priority to write when I’m away from home, I’ve noticed that I’m more productive than ever. While traveling for work, I don’t have a yard to tend to or a cat to clean up after or a spouse walking around the house naked. My latest draft is nearly done and I’m about to launch an author website. I’ve learned the hard way that when that first draft is done, the real work begins. All the musical chairs over the past four years are a small part of my crazy dance to get it done.