Hobbies and Camouflage
May 10, 2019

When non-writing people think of "writing," they generally imagine something
like a scene in a movie -- the author's pen scratching across sheet after sheet
of yellow legal pad or fingers dancing on the keys of a laptop. But a lot of the
actual process actually has no outward visible sign, because it goes on in the
writer's head. To an outside observer, the writer is just sitting there with a
pen and notebook and a cup of coffee, scribbling the occasional sentence or two.
Because it doesn't fit with the image of "writing" many people have, it often
gets misinterpreted by non-writers as not working.

This, in turn, leads to writers being interrupted at the exact moment their
muses were about to resolve that one perplexing plot point that had them stalled
for weeks, or just when it was about to reveal the idea that would take that
half-finished essay in a beautiful and entirely new direction. "Since you're not
busy, could you...?" has brought many a work-in-progress to a screeching halt.
(Just ask Samuel Taylor Coleridge[1] about that.)

One way to mitigate interruptions is to use camouflage. Scatter papers across
the table--spreadsheets with lots of numbers generally look impressive--and move
them around from time to time as if you were searching for something in the
data. Or buy a newspaper and just turn the page periodically (though to be
honest, it's easy to get sucked into actually reading the articles if you're not
careful). Make it look like you're doing something else, and most people will
leave you alone.

A better solution, though, is to take up a hobby, especially a handicraft.
Keeping one's hands busy has two benefits: it's an outward sign that you're
"working" in a way most non-writers accept, and there's something about
repetitive tasks that stimulates the muse. I've met more than a few writers who
knit, for example.

It doesn't even have to be a hobby--simply keeping one's hands busy is often
enough to give the muse a safe space in which to work. Some of my best ideas
have occurred while I was doing the after-dinner dishes. I keep a pad of paper
and a pencil in the kitchen to jot down random thoughts when they appear for
that very reason. (Damp hands don't smear pencil they way they do ink.)

It's a shame that writers have to hide their real work behind "work," but in an
age when busy-ness is the mark of virtue, it seems to be the only way to avoid
both censure and the inevitable "Since you're not doing anything right now..."
interruptions.

[1] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Person_from_Porlock

(c) 2019 by Andrew Gudgel 
email: contact [at] andrewgudgel.com