My Own Room
It feels good to be writing again. And scary. And overwhelming. Because I have always had a constant running internal commentary. What should I be writing about? What matters? Big questions to consider as I go about my day, trying to be present for my children and husband. But I really lack the discipline to be wholly devoted to either task--the homemaking or the writing.
Virginia Woolf outlined in A Room of One's Own the need for independence, particularly financial, to cultivate your writing. At least, I think she did. That's what I remember, but we've already talked about how memory is pretty unreliable about certain things. Anyway I think it's really about space. Open, unencumbered, unrestricted space to give voice to your thoughts. What an absolute luxury. But also it's a hard labor to clear that space. It takes time and discipline.
When I was in first grade, I won a school prize for a story I wrote. It was loosely based on Goldilocks and the Three Bears. I decided that I would be a writer, I think, because people seemed to think I was good at it. I really only liked doing things that other people thought I was good at. I feel like I've spent my life trying to get over that compulsion.
I'm not good at conforming to the conventions of being a stay-at-home mother. While I appreciate order and cleanliness, I simply don't make the choice to clean. It's chaotic here, and it certainly grates on me, but I can't bring myself to put my babies down to attend to the mess. I know that it doesn't really matter what the state of our home is, but the disorder is not sustainable. Chris does most of the housework that gets done, but maintaining the household really requires a group effort that I just don't give.
Still, when the kids finally go to sleep on their own, I spend my time here, writing hurriedly and in fragments. If I am a writer, it's because there are things that I need to say. But it doesn't have to happen at this moment. I honor the slips of poems, stories, insights and discoveries that pass through my mind throughout the day. I trust the necessary ones will come back to me when needed, when there will time for pondering and writing to completion, when the space I'm giving to my kids' needs will be handed back to me. And maybe there might be time and room then too for cleaning.
Virginia Woolf outlined in A Room of One's Own the need for independence, particularly financial, to cultivate your writing. At least, I think she did. That's what I remember, but we've already talked about how memory is pretty unreliable about certain things. Anyway I think it's really about space. Open, unencumbered, unrestricted space to give voice to your thoughts. What an absolute luxury. But also it's a hard labor to clear that space. It takes time and discipline.
When I was in first grade, I won a school prize for a story I wrote. It was loosely based on Goldilocks and the Three Bears. I decided that I would be a writer, I think, because people seemed to think I was good at it. I really only liked doing things that other people thought I was good at. I feel like I've spent my life trying to get over that compulsion.
I'm not good at conforming to the conventions of being a stay-at-home mother. While I appreciate order and cleanliness, I simply don't make the choice to clean. It's chaotic here, and it certainly grates on me, but I can't bring myself to put my babies down to attend to the mess. I know that it doesn't really matter what the state of our home is, but the disorder is not sustainable. Chris does most of the housework that gets done, but maintaining the household really requires a group effort that I just don't give.
Still, when the kids finally go to sleep on their own, I spend my time here, writing hurriedly and in fragments. If I am a writer, it's because there are things that I need to say. But it doesn't have to happen at this moment. I honor the slips of poems, stories, insights and discoveries that pass through my mind throughout the day. I trust the necessary ones will come back to me when needed, when there will time for pondering and writing to completion, when the space I'm giving to my kids' needs will be handed back to me. And maybe there might be time and room then too for cleaning.
Comments
Post a Comment