Time Alone-Time With Others: Finding Balance as a Writer

A writer’s most valued commodity is her/his time–and usually alone. It is in those moments alone that we do our greatest work–writing and reading.

And yet, the writer must remain engaged with the world–observant, aware, awake, and alert to what makes people tick–the universal modus operandi that drive the human heart and soul.

How do we do that when Rumi so eloquently says: A little while alone in your room will prove move valuable than anything else that could ever be given.

Perhaps the operative words in Rumi’s statement are: …a little while…

I often think writers spend too much time alone–that we are too taken with the image of the lonely artist–or perhaps the tormented, mentally unbalanced artist–the writer who sits to her/his desk day in and day out pecking, typing away at her/his keyboard–creating that great American or world novel that is destined for a lineage of literary awards and propelling us the writer in to enormous fame–and fortune.

Yet we all know that that scenario is all-too-often not the case. I read last week that most published writers garner less than $19,000.00/annum for the words we string together and launch into the world either under our own auspices or those of a traditional publisher. For me $19,000.00 sounds great. As a fulltime wife and mother I’m happy simply to see my books purchased with hopes that sales will exceed that of my small pittance of an advance that came nowhere near the per annum salary that most writers are said to achieve.

I love writing. I love hearing and reading from readers how my stories affect them.

But more and more as the economy plateaus into a state of stagnation I am coming to see that the lure of money plus writing doesn’t always equal happiness–even for those who gain the 6-figure book deals. I’d hate to be a writer hoping to sell enough books to cover a 6-figure advance today. Perhaps I’m not ambitious enough, but if people have to choose between paying their mortgage–if they’re lucky enough to have maintained it–and purchasing my book, I’d tell them let the book go–and would wonder, should they purchase my title instead–just what kind of word of mouth endorsement they could offer and if anyone would consider them a rational and stable enough individual whose suggestions to honor.

Writing may be my passion, and while man it is said shall not live by bread alone, in truth people don’t need books to live. They certainly make our lives a lot more tolerable, and in my own case lively and meaningful. I have a stack of books by my bed and many others around my home that I doubt I will ever get a chance to read before I die.

Why?

Because I hope to be living my life–breathing air with my husband and children, smiling with them, taking in the sunshine with them–and doing all the things my characters often wished they had with their families and that some actually did.

Engaging with my family–those closest to me–who are alive and plant the seed of stories in me is the only way I can truly come to write. For it is out of grace and gratefulness of the relationships in my life–the human interactions that open my eyes to the unseen that binds us as humans and families that I come to this art of putting words together, stringing phrases into sentences that construct paragraphs and lead to chapters that comprise novel. And more and more I am realize were it not for the life and lives we lead with others–there would be no need for stories.

How do you spend your time and create balance?