--Haruki Murakami, Dance, Dance Dance
Albert Einstein once said that “Time is an illusion”. Why then does it feel all too real whenever I have pressing matters to put down on paper? Or maybe it only feels that way when there is less of it? The clock ticks by and we find ourselves more aware that it even existed.
So when do you find the time to write? I suppose the better question would be “Where do you find the time to write?”. It almost feels as though sometimes I am plucking the minutes out of thin air. There are only so many hours in a day, and often your precious time is already claimed by work or friends or obligations or family or… life. So you write when you can, in pocket journals, on scraps of paper, on receipts. (Aside: I once wrote an entire chapter on a roll of receipt tape as it was the only means of writing material I could find. End of aside.) You scribble down ideas and names, and promise that you’ll come back to them later, praying you don’t lose them in the process. My purse, for instance, is often times a bottomless pit from which notes never return.
But what do you do when you have not only one idea to get down on paper… but two? Do you pick the one that has been tugging at your brain? Or do you choose the one that is a responsibility to finish, the one that should be a priority? Choosing between the two is like choosing which child is your favorite. (*Try not to have favorite children.) The only answers it to attempt to write both and hope that the storylines don’t get crossed along the way.
*If this entry seems slightly on the short side, it’s probably because I’m low on time.
…see what I did there?