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The Cost of Creating
By Kirsty Logan
Everyone I know has two job titles: the one they get paid to
do, and the one they wish they got paid to do. I'm a waitress/
writer. My girlfriend is a graphic designer/musician, and my
brother is a lighting tech/filmmaker. They do the former to
afford the equipment and studio time to do the latter, but as
a writer I don't need to pay for electronics or locations.
Writers don't really need tools to create their art. A paper and
pencil, a laptop, chalk and a pavement, a stick and an expanse
of loose dirt; anything can be utilised to put words together.
I'm sure it would be nice to write on thick sheets of handmade
paper with a Mont Blanc pen engraved with your initials, but a
ballpoint and a school jotter work just as well.
There is one tool that all writers need. These necessary parts
of the writing process – the initial drafts, the typing, the
submitting – all cost time. I have to work my day job to pay
for this time.
However, as writers we frequently squander time. If I wanted
to hang a picture I would buy a hammer as a tool to help me;
similarly when I want to write a novel I earn time. But I don't
wield time as effectively as I might wield a hammer.
Every week I work as a waitress to earn enough to buy a little
free time for writing, and then I spend my hard-won Wednesday
morning playing silly Facebook games and making unnecessarily
complicated plans for lunch. I do not spend all of my precious
minutes churning out beautiful, effortless prose and opening
acceptance letters from London publishers. Although I work hard
to earn time, I do not always take the best care of it. If I did
have a Mont Blanc pen engraved with my initials then I'm sure I
wouldn't use it to dig loose hairs out of the drain; if I had
thick sheets of handmade paper then I wouldn't use it to mop up
spills. But this is exactly what I'm doing with the only tool I
have: time. Spending an hour on social networking websites is
like letting decaying grass build up in the blade of my
lawnmower. What is the point in earning time only to waste it?
In writing this essay, I used several tricks to fool myself into
feeling productive. I haven't had my breakfast yet, which is a
conscious attempt to feel super-productive and say to myself,
"Look, you produce work before your day has even begun! Who
needs meager foodstuffs when you have the sustenance of words?
How wonderfully conscientious you are." I also have a numb rear
end, as I write at the wooden kitchen table and forgot to put a
cushion on the chair. Getting up to fetch a cushion would be an
admittance that my concentration has waned, so I must suffer the
numbness until I have written my final paragraph. And so on.
It's 9.30am on a Wednesday. My girlfriend is off designing
corporate websites to pay for new guitar strings, and my brother
is winding wires around his elbows to pay for camera hire. I
spent the weekend making coffee for strangers to pay for this
time. Writing this essay isn't as wasteful as playing FarmVille
on Facebook, but it's not improving that car-chase scene in my
novel either. I'm going to get some cornflakes and a cushion,
and then I am going to spend this time properly.
***
BIO: Kirsty Logan is a writer, editor, teacher, waitress, and
general layabout. She holds an MLitt (Distinction) in Creative
Writing from Glasgow University and won the 2009 Gillian Purvis
Award for New Writing. She has written three novels, all of
which will stay unpublished as they should not be inflicted
on strangers. Get in touch at
www.kirstylogan.com
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