It's 5 O'clock Somewhere

A few years ago I discovered that my best time to write is at 5:00 AM. I found that before the sun is up, and the demands of motherhood, wife-hood, and influences of social media have soaked into my pores, my mind is at it's clearest. Something I guess I knew in college, for when I was under an intense deadline I would go to bed early and then get up at 5:00 (to my sweet and amazing roommates dismay) to finish my papers, and contrary to what my friends and family expected, I did better on those papers than the others.

For a short period of time at the end of 2011 I managed to get myself into a great routine where I arose before the sun, made myself some hot apple cider, and curled up in the office with nothing but an open word document and a blanket.

I loved it.

And I hated it.

I would manage to keep this routine going for several days and then the weekend would knock me off of my track. Or otherwise put, after getting up that early for a week or two, I would burn out. So, I'd get lazy for awhile, and then, I'd try again. But each time I tried, it seemed my determination and conviction to do it lessened. Even though I loved it, I seemed to decide that I loved or needed sleep more.

There are a few things that contributed to this problem.

First and foremost, I think, is that I have never ever in my whole wide life been a morning person. Just ask my dad. He tried everything to help get me up and moving, he even brought me breakfast in bed for a season because it was the only way he could get breakfast in me before I left the house. (Have I ever mentioned what a great man he is? I now see what I put him through every morning as I call out the countdown to Owen, "bud, it's 8:05 I really need you to get up. That's 5 minutes until the bus is here." Everyday I'm reminded of my dad walking down the hall, rapping on the door, and telling me the time. This pattern even continued through high school, I just hated to get up.) I still hate to get up. It feels like torture. My poor children do not have that mother who is up and ready to go before them, ready to tackle the day with a smile on her face.

Which segues nicely into my next problem. I'm the mother of (currently) two small children. Waking up at 5:00 can often disturb the peace of our home, drawing a child  (particularly my youngest as I just told you my five year old sleeps like a teenager) out of his cave and waking him prematurely. This was a problem half of the time. The other half of the time said child had already abandoned his cave in favor of mine. Snuggling right next to me, his head on my arm, in the sweetest way possible. How do you leave your bed when a little munchkin is content in your arms? It takes a lot more motivation for one thing, and then there is a much higher risk of, again, disturbing the peace.

Now, I should note, these were problems I ran into a year ago. Now, Micah is less likely to be in my bed, at least until 7, and they both sleep a little more soundly these days seemingly making this phase of life a better one to attempt or reattempt my writing routine. However, now there is a little matter of growing a large cantaloupe in my belly and all of the sleep and energy that requires. In many ways this has been my best pregnancy, with Owen I had back pain, with Micah I was very stressed and uncomfortable (I believe) as a result, and this time, aside from extreme (for me) morning sickness early on I generally feel great and I haven't yet gained any weight. Great, but exhausted. Things that didn't phase me with thing one or thing two pretty much knock me flat on and  my back with this one. By the end of a day I am dead on the couch and my eyes start to droop around 9:00.

Listen to me and my many excuses.

I was telling all of this to a good friend of mine a few weeks ago, about how 5:00 is my best time to write, and yet as much as I wish it did, it just doesn't work for me at this stage of life. "I just have to find my 5:00 at another time, make some other time of the day work for me the same way."

And that's when I remembered the popular country song, "It's 5 O'clock Somewhere." It's interesting to me how many people quote this song when looking for a reason, an excuse, to have an early drink.

Now, I don't drink, but I think I can learn something from this song and the resulting catch phrase. I simply need to make this a priority, instead of finding excuses or hiding behind reasons not to do something, in this case writing, which I love. I need to make excuses and find reasons to do it. I simply need to find my 5:00 at another time.

I haven't found it, yet. But I think I'm getting close.

Perhaps, my 5:00 AM can be a different time each day and it isn't quite as complicated as I always try to make it in my mind. I think, having put a name to it and found a catch phrase for myself, and the fact that I have started identifying, even if it's just internally for now, the reasons why I make these excuses in the first place, will all help me to find that place, inwardly, where I can tune out the world and my day to tune into that place where composition is easy and isn't inhibited. Finally, I think I need to make my 5:00 less about a specific time and more about the things that help me unwind, a steady supply of hot apple cider, a blanket and a quiet room to escape to for starters. (Quiet in a house of boys, an oxymoron if I've ever heard of one.)

So friends, I wonder, am I the only one who makes excuses NOT to do something they know internally they need to be doing?

What things do you do, to motivate and encourage yourself when those excuses are taking over and derailing your enthusiasm?

I'd especially love to hear from you, my blogging/writing friends, about your 5:00, is it a time, or a thing that brings you to that place of productivity?


I don't make a habit of blogging on the weekends, but my son interviewed me this week, and I'd like to share it with you. So, I hope you will make your way back here tomorrow for that little bit of my heart.

Until then,
Teresa

What It Means to be a Writer, The New School of Thought

I recently bought a sort of "how to book" for aspiring writers on Kindle. It wasn't an expensive purchase, it cost me $0.00 to download. I eagerly began reading and quickly discovered the book wasn't worth the zero pennies I'd paid for it and despite myself I kept reading, thinking it was bound to get better. There would be something significant buried between the verbose and repetitive pages. More than 40% of this book later I feel as though I greatly wasted my time.

And yet, I also feel encouraged. You see, if he could do it...

Despite the fact that his writing was cheesy, far from riveting  and majorly lacking in actual content. The main concept of his book stuck with me: To be a writer, you just have to believe it.

That's it.

My dad would argue that to be a writer you actually have to write. A true writer, he has told me before, doesn't concern themselves with what other people think, they write because they have to. They write constantly, because they are compelled to. Not writing, would be in essence like starving. Dedication, time, and passion are the keys to success as a writer and ultimately the satisfaction comes from within. These words produce an image in my mind of someone chained to their computer, literally wasting away as they ferociously type every spare minute of the day.

Dictionary.com defines a writer as: a person engaged in writing books, articles, stories, etc., especially as an occupation. An author or a journalist. This definition, with the emphasis and inflection on the italicized words more accurately defines how I've looked at it during the years. If I'm not actively writing a book, then I must not be a writer. I can't claim to be a writer until I've been validated as one via publication or career. These inflections, give way to self doubt, and self doubt will, well...to be frank, self doubt is a female dog who will jump up and rip the flesh right off your tushy every time you give her the chance.

So where does that leave me then? A wife, mother, friend/sister, ministry leader, and {basically}full time employee (oh, and lets not forget I'm currently pregnant with my third). There isn't enough time in my life to fit in the type of writing my dad describes as necessary. Yet, when I write I feel alive in a way that nothing else can touch. My thoughts become more coherent and my connection with my Lord increases tenfold. Since starting this blog two years ago, I've learned that the more I write, the more I want to write. I never would have said that I feel like I'm starving when I'm not writing, but I've discovered that when I'm not writing my fuse is shorter, my relationship with the Lord suffers, and my creativity all but dries up. That sort of sounds a bit like starving doesn't it?

But what has happened time and time again, both in this space and in other writing pursuits,  is I allow that self doubt to come in and take chunk after painful and gory chunk out of my otherwise cute little tushy. That's where the first school of thought must come back into play. At some point, you have to believe you are what you want to become, or you wont ever be able to stand up to the pressures and doubts long enough to succeed. Ultimately, you aren't going to get that public validation until you have believed in yourself enough to put a muzzle on that self doubt and lock it in a kennel. Throw away the key too, wont you please?

The Lord has blessed me with a handful of women who have made it their mission to encourage me in my writing. Women whom without, my blog would have died out many many moons ago. The Lord has used each of these women to validate me and my passion on multiple occasions throughout the last two years. I have their words embedded deep in my heart for safe keeping. My husband, my greatest supporter, has been telling me for years that I can do it, that I just need to believe in myself. Oddly enough, I would just ignore him. Almost as though his confidence in me was falsified because we are married. As a result, he'd say "believe in yourself" and I would roll my eyes at him and hmph with my arms crossed or back turned. Easier said than done, right? Not according to this idiot who published an ebook. According to him, it just requires repeating the words "I am a writer" over and over, and owning them. Stupid, right? That's what I thought, and yet shortly after I'd started my blog one of my cheerleaders came up to me and said 'Teresa, I just wanted to tell you that you are not an aspiring writer...you ARE a writer. I do a lot of reading, and consider myself to be extremely critical, and you have it, you are a writer."

The confidence meter soared off the mark. Occasionally I replay those words, when I need to motivate myself to break out of my pattern and get going again. My dad might say that it shouldn't matter that she feels this way, and yet it made all of the difference for me. So, that begs the question, if a friend telling me I'm a writer can increase my confidence so drastically what would happen if I said it, believed it, owned it?

So starts the mantra. "I'm Teresa Thomas, and I am a writer. I'm a writer. I can write. I love to write. Teresa Thomas the writer." Believing it, has driven me to commit to writing in this blog faithfully again, and once I get into a good routine here, I may even work on some of those other pursuits that have been collecting dust. Owning of that phrase or series of phrases, is what prompted me to change my blog header to make it reflect the style of the many writer/author blogs which litter the web.

It's scary, taking this leap, but I believe that I've made big strides this month, understanding what inflections cause my self doubt to rage, and taking hold of both my dads idea of a writer and the idiots idea of it, putting them together in a sort of mangled ball and simply putting this new school of thought into action. The validation I've received from my friends/cheerleaders, along side the newly added praises of my husband, are safeguarding my heart so that when that self doubt comes rushing into the room charged, angry, ready to attack, I am ready and able to stand strong with a tight tush that can withstand the worst abuse. These poor women probably feel like their efforts and words have been fruitless because I've drifted and allowed myself to enter that starvation phase that is not writing, so many times. But I assure you, them, and the Lord, they have not. I'm relying on those words greatly right now.

Teresa Thomas,
A Writer

I hope you will join me next Friday for my On Writing post tentatively titled "It's 5 O'clock Somewhere"