The Sound of Silence

By Kim

My little one drawing a tree at the cemetery - photo by Deborah Downes

Another summer is over and my kids are back at their respective schools.

The oldest, now in junior high, has discovered that workloads and responsibilities have increased exponentially. Between homework and the rehearsal schedule for her ballet company, she doubts she’ll have much of a social life apart from her dance friends, none of whom attend her school.

The little one, now in third grade, is having a harder time than expected adjusting to being the only Bullock at her school. The older kids no longer know who she is, she must ride the bus alone, and she no longer has the security of having her sister in the building in case of emergencies. She experienced both a tornado warning and a lock-down at school last year and dreads the thought of it happening again.

At home, I am going through my own transitions. I left my 30s behind a few days ago. I’m toying with a new novel idea, another historical, trying to decide if the story is meant to be adult or YA. (I ran the idea by my twelve-year-old and she votes YA.) While I’m still submitting THE OAK LOVERS to agents and remain confident it will find a home, I’ve spent too long obsessively checking my e-mail and not enough time writing. Blog posts and book reviews aren’t enough anymore.

During the summer I had an excuse to procrastinate. I lived in my car, shuttling my girls to dance and camp—activities that never occurred for both of them simultaneously. I took a family vacation. The noise level in our house was typically conducive to nothing but the creation of headaches if I tried to sit at my computer and work. I didn’t try often.

Summer is over now. Unless I choose otherwise, for seven hours a day I hear nothing but the sound of silence. My muse’s favorite soundtrack. Time to get back to work.

What is your favorite music to work by?   

School's In!

Photo by Deborah Downes

By Kim

I don’t know about the rest of you Mama Writers out there, but summer in the Bullock household means an enforced twelve-week vacation from any real productivity. Short of rewriting parts of my opening two chapters for the 327th time, I spent my summer shuttling children back and forth to various camps or living at the dance studio while my aspiring ballerina logged in ten grueling hours of class a week.

I didn’t mind the break because I knew that it would allow me to return to my finished manuscript with fresh eyes and see those places where the polish is a bit thinner, or the transition a bit weaker. There were times I looked longingly at my computer, but consoled myself with the thought that I had no reason to rush through final edits, polishing a query letter, or finishing the dreaded synopsis. Most agents I want to submit to would be on vacation anyway.

After taking a few first-day pictures of my beaming second grader and my startlingly grown-up sixth grader, I dropped them off at school on Monday and rushed home. The house seemed too quiet and as I opened my manuscript I heard a small whine from the day-bed. The dog gazed at me mournfully, lost without a child to cuddle with. So I cuddled with him, and I mourned the thought that this was the very last first-day that my children would attend the same school.

All too soon the baby I held back in 2001 will be in middle school. She’ll make new friends, try new activities, and continue to nurture her passion for dance. I’ll have to let her go, to watch and worry as she transitions that much closer to an independent life, to hope that I have guided her well and armed her with the courage to hold tight to who she is through those harrowing adolescent years.

An entirely different kind of adolescent waits impatiently on the hard drive of my computer. This one demands independence now, and very soon I will have to let it go out into the world. And I’ll check my inbox incessantly, waiting and worrying, hoping for word that I shaped it well enough to stand on its own.

Summer Survival Strategies for Writers

By Kim

Summer is here. The days are hot, the children are free, and my writing…well, let’s just say not a heck of a lot of it gets done. While I rarely have more than five uninterrupted minutes at my keyboard, images from my story and conversations between my characters still haunt me. As I’m sure many other writers with children can attest, it’s easy to get frustrated and resentful when kept from our work, from our daydreams, and from the peace and quiet so many of us require.

Last year I put little thought into how I was going to make it through the summer holidays. Even though most days I only had one of my two bundles of joy at home, I wound up longing for a solitary vacation within the first few weeks. This year I’ve come up with a survival strategy that I hope will allow me to keep my sanity, get a little work done, and keep my family happy.

I will accept the fact that it will be impossible to write every day and that some days I shouldn’t even try. Nap time is officially a thing of the past in the Bullock household and my office is, for all practical purposes, in the same room as the television and game consoles. I have a choice - sit at the computer and stew about my inability to concentrate over the theme song from The Wonder Pets or sort laundry in the relative peace of my bedroom. This year I will choose the latter.

I will involve my four-year-old in chores. She wants to help and those days where she thinks it is fun to help mom empty the dishwasher and dust furniture are limited. Who knows, maybe if she actively helps prepare dinner, she may even be inclined to eat some of it.

I will bribe my eight-year-old to entertain her sister. It may at least allow me to get my blog posts done.

I will relax and enjoy my family on our vacation to Italy this summer with no plans to get anything done beyond exploring villages, watching my older daughter’s face light up (like mine) at the history of the buildings while my younger one dashes up every set of stairs she finds. Of course, this will all partly depend on my husband’s (questionable) ability to drive a stick-shift.

On those days when I can’t work, I’ll do related things from which I can be painlessly interrupted. I can transcribe old letters and update my website. Even painting alongside my children can be considered “research.”

I will not feel guilty for putting one child in day camp and the other in summer school for part of the vacation. I will make writing a priority on those days.

I will not feel pressure to keep the house spotless. Wait, I never do that anyway!

How about you? Leave a comment and share your strategies for keeping the muse happy during the summer holidays.