Babette de Jongh, Romance Writer.

CLAIMING YOUR CREATIVE ENVIRONMENT 

Imagine my surprise when I realized I didn’t have a place I could call my own.  In a big-enough house for a family of five, there was no place I could label as mine-all mine.  The kids each had their own bedroom.  My husband had his own desk, his computer area, and his workshop out back, complete with an upstairs hobby room.

What did I have?  The kitchen?  The laundry room?  Where in a house I supposedly co-owned, could I go to steal a few minutes of alone time?  The bathroom was the only place I could escape my family, at least until someone realized where I was.  Then the pounding would start, and I’d clutch the book I was reading while I hid behind the thin, hollow door like Shelley Duval in The Shining, dreading the moment when one of the kids realized how easy it would be to pick the flimsy lock with a toothpick.

Not only did I not have a place of my own to escape to, there were no rules to keep my family from bugging me when I did manage to steal a few moments to myself.  I enforced quiet time for the kids when they needed it, so why not for myself?  God knows I needed quiet time more than anyone, yet I was always surrounded by people.  No wonder I was cranky.

If any of this sounds familiar, maybe you need to carve out a space of your own, or make some time for yourself.   There won’t be a blank spot waiting to be called yours, or an empty hour you hadn’t noticed before.  You’ll have to rearrange, shove things aside, claim a few square feet of space or a block of time that’s yours-all-yours.  It might not be easy, but it is important. 

If you don’t have a place of your own, get one.  A corner, a closet, a square of real estate in your home, however small.  Claim one small space, and it will lead to others.  Like bastard spoons that appear in the silverware drawer overnight, your one little space will miraculously cause other spaces to open up.  Claim time for yourself, and you’ll reap benefits you haven’t begun to dream of.  

The realization of my need for solitude and a space of my own was the beginning of a creative rebirth in my writing, as well as other artistic outlets that had atrophied while I concentrated on raising a family.  Amazed that I had let myself get buried so far beneath the needs of my family, I made a list of the things I needed: A desk of my own.  A computer I didn’t have to share with anyone.  Family rules about Leaving Mommy Alone sometimes.  That list led to others, but it was a beginning.  Like most beginnings, it was small but important. 

Make your list.  What do you need that you don’t have?  Recognizing your needs is the first step toward fulfilling them.   If Demon Guilt has you in his clutches, give him a good punch in the face and repeat after me: Meeting your own needs (even at what sometimes feels like the expense of others) is the only way you will be able to give your best to those who depend on you. 

If you are happy and fulfilled, you will be a better person, and everyone around you will benefit.  You will be giving from a full heart, not a depleted one.  Your family will not be sucking you dry; they will be reaping the rewards as your cup runneth over. 

If you are happy and fulfilled, you will teach your children by example (the only way they learn, really) how to be happy and fulfilled themselves.

Fair warning: if claiming your own time and space is something new, your family will balk.  They will forget they’re not supposed to disturb you when you’re writing, reading, or creating your art.  They will decide the flat surface of your new desk is the perfect place to park items they don’t have time to put away.  They will use your colored pencils and your new writing pens.  You will find them cutting cardboard or duct tape with your new sewing scissors. 

Don’t let this happen.  Be consistent in claiming your rights.  Be ruthless but kind—unless being mean works better.  Eventually your family will learn, and at some far-away point in the future, they will realize their lives are better because you have your own space and solitude.  They will respect your needs because it benefits them to do so.

* Alert the media.  Let everyone know that it is your intention to take some time for yourself.

* Put a sign on your desk—Do not disturb: writer at work.  To deter younger kids, sometimes a more visual barrier is in order.  A closed door, a folding screen, or even a length of cord spread along the floor to make an invisible wall.  My desk is in an open area, so when my kids were younger, I draped a black cord from one door handle to another to cordon off my office space whenever I was writing.  I called it my thinking string (an idea borrowed from fellow writer, Haywood Smith).  My kids knew that nothing short of bloodshed permitted broaching the dreaded thinking string.  Even if I wasn’t actively typing on the computer, they were not allowed to disturb me as long as the thinking string was in place.  Because as all writers know, staring at the computer screen is as much a part of writing as typing is, and a minute’s interruption can cause an hour’s lost working time.

* Put a sign on the front door to keep neighbors and friends from using up your time—Artist at work; come back later.

* Learn to say no.  Sometimes we are our own worst enemies when it comes to using our creative time doing things that really don't interest us.  Here's a good tip:  If it's not fun for you, don't do it. 

Now, quit procrastinating.  Carve out your space, claim your time, and explore your creativity.

Recommended Reading about writing and/or spirituality (sometimes both):

THE ARTIST'S WAY by Julia Cameron

BIRD BY BIRD by Anne Lamott

GIFT FROM THE SEA by Anne Morrow Lindbergh

WHAT WE ACHE FOR by Oriah Mountain Dreamer

IF YOU WANT TO WRITE by Brenda Ueland

WALKING ON ALLIGATORS by Susan Shaughnessy

GETTING THE WORDS RIGHT by Theodore A. Rees Cheney

YOUR HEART'S DESIRE by Sonia Choquette

A COURSE IN MIRACLES by the Foundation for Inner Peace

THE PHYSICS OF MIRACLES by Richard Bartlett