The life of a writer! It sounds glamorous, doesn’t it? But I don’t fool myself. I completely understand why I—and many authors—need to escape to a secluded place when we want to write something noteworthy, whether it’s a book or a blog.
Seclusion – it’s the only way to achieve that elusive state of peace. In my home, I’m constantly interrupted by the sirens of emergency vehicles racing down the street, the constant ringing of the phone, the doorbell that seems to have a personal vendetta against my productivity, or the loudmouth neighbors who gather just outside my open windows to chat, like an unwelcome committee. Thank goodness using the air conditioner in the summer means I can keep the windows closed.
It’s nearly impossible to write anything coherent when surrounded by people who think “quiet” is a type of fabric. I once read about Maya Angelou’s writing method, which involved renting a hotel room, stripping it of distractions like telephones and televisions, and hanging a “Do Not Disturb” sign on the door. I admit I was envious. But inspired, I gave it a shot, too. Let’s just say my version was more “budget-friendly.” I stayed home and printed a sign in the 48-point font that read, “I am taking an online class. Please do not disturb.” (I found it necessary to be a bit crafty because I know my neighbors. They are persistent.) Then, I taped it to my door just beneath the doorbell. Either the sign worked wonders, or my neighbors finally found something else to do besides disturb me.
Now, don’t get me wrong; my neighbors mean well. They often ring my doorbell to deliver a package that the Amazon courier left on the porch to prevent the porch pirates from getting it first. But sometimes, they phone me out of sheer boredom, as if my life is a soap opera they can tune into. Most of them are retired, just like me, and we’ve all been living in this complex long enough to know each other’s life stories better than we know our own. Back in the day, we were busy with jobs, raising our children, and the chaos of life. Now, the day’s highlight seems to be finding out who has the juiciest gossip.
I suspect my neighbors think I’m anti-social. After all, I’m not one to hang outside or sit on the porch and engage in idle chit-chat. I prefer the company of my numerous books (reading) and my computer (writing). When working at the computer, I usually have the TV on in the background, tuned to the all-news station. The volume is generally lower than a whisper, or it’s muted.
When the phone rings, I glance at the screen to see if I want to answer. Thanks to my bundled cable service, I have what I call “TV caller ID.” It’s a brilliant way to dodge telemarketers and those friends who think a conversation should last longer than a Netflix binge.
Since retiring, I’ve embraced a reclusive lifestyle. It’s my time now—me time. For years, my time was consumed by work, children, and the daily grind. I have always loved my kids, but I can’t count how many times while they were little that I silently wished they would grow up and get a place of their own. And then, just like that song, “Turn Around,” says, they did—faster than I could say “empty nest.”
So now, liberated from a job and dependent children, I finally have time to write a blog and work on penning the great American novel. Unfortunately, I can only do my best writing without interruptions after midnight or during that predawn period in the morning when the world is blissfully quiet, and my quasi-spouse is sleeping like the dead.
It’s incredible how creativity flourishes when you’re free from distractions. Just this morning, I woke up at 5:30 AM, and in shortly less than a miraculous hour, I managed to finish this post without a single disturbance. The post-midnight hours are my secret weapon, my sanctuary. Unfortunately, I can’t afford to rent a cabin in the woods or reserve an extended stay at a hotel every time I want to write, and I have at least two “in-progress” books trapped in my head, begging for completion. They’re prisoners of my own making, waiting for the day I can escape to a quiet place to complete them.