The Other Stuff

Term starts this week, and I'm about to have my first day back at the university. I love teaching; I get so much out of working with people, whether mature students or undergraduates. Most of the time problems are simple, and solutions straightforward (though not necessarily straightforward to implement). I wave my magic wand and people are amazed, although it's really only experience and common sense combined that allows me to make diagnoses and suggest solutions. It's a joy to be able to spot a problem, explain it and see the penny drop, to see someone who was confused rush off full of renewed enthusiasm for their work. I love it.

And yet...

Right now I feel a real reluctance to go back to teaching. I think: I'm a writer, not a teacher, so how come I do so much teaching and so little writing? I give to others, but what about giving to myself and my creativity? It's a struggle for me - which is ironic, given I seem to be teaching writers about conflict at the moment.

I was talking to someone yesterday about making time for writing. They had a full time job, and found that 'the other stuff' crowded out the writing. The 'other stuff' was all the necessary, day to day, functional stuff - cooking, cleaning, sorting, admin, domesticity of all kinds.

The thing about 'the other stuff' is that it is infinite. Even if you had all the time in the world, 'the other stuff' would never get done. There will always be more boxes to tick on the To Do list. We find ourselves prioritising someone else's laundry over our writing. We prioritise a telephone call from a heart sink friend. We prioritise going out with our mates, or watching Coronation Street, or doing a Su Doku puzzle. At some point we have to stop, and ask ourselves what we really, really want. Is it, for example, to watch TV or write?

And when you've answered that, go and do whatever your heart's desire tells you to do.