Interruptions

It never seems to fail: you get working, nice and settled in your creative groove, when all of a sudden -- BAM! -- there's an interruption in what you're doing.

My interruptions this morning come from a pair of handymen who are doing some work around the ol' homestead.  We have a drippy tub faucet and a door that won't lock properly, so they're here making it all right (since it would take me a good couple of days and an awful lot of counting-to-ten episodes to have the same result they can achieve in just a few hours).  It's stuff that needed to get done, and I'm glad it is ... I just wish it didn't have to interrupt my creative time.

The rest of the week doesn't get any better.  I'm at school all day tomorrow, and then just had a meeting scheduled for Friday morning.  Bang go another couple of mornings of work.

So how is a creative to get done everything he needs to?  Quite simply, by repeating this simple mantra:

My creative work is important work.

How many of us, deep down, feel like the time we spend doing creative work is free time, negotiable time, down time?  If we were at our "real" jobs, our 9-to-5 jobs, we'd never dream of giving in to an interruption such as a handyman visit or a friend coming to call.  Yet for our creative time, it seems all too easy to abandon the creative work we're doing and go off to do whatever else calls for our time.

My creative work is important work.

Is it?  Is it really?  Of course your creative work is important, otherwise why would you be spending time on it?  Yes, it may sure feel like play, but what you are doing is no less that answering a deep calling from your soul, a cry from your most authentic "you" to help it figure out who you really are and what this world is really all about.  They may say the meeting at work is important, but compared to helping your soul define itself?  There's no comparison.

My creative work is important work.

How often I finish a period of composing -- be it ten minutes or two hours -- and I'm exhausted, mentally and, occasionally, physically.  I don't get mentally exhausted when I stare at the TV.  I don't get physically exhausted when I'm talking to a friend.  If something that tires me mind and body can't be called "work," then I don't know what can.  If my composing, my creative output, meets that definition of "work," doesn't that make it just as important as any other bit of work that calls for my time?

So what do we do when something else does call for our time and attention?  It's hard to do, and sadly it won't work every time, but try to do what you would do for any other job you have.  If you were at your desk in your office at work and a friend wanted to just chat, what would you tell them?  "I can't right now.  Maybe later."  Do the same for your creative work.

Do you schedule meetings in an appointment book or on a calendar?  Do the same for your creative time: if Wednesday morning from 9:00 till 11:00 is blocked out as "Composing," it's a lot harder to put anything else in that slot. 

For some of us, more and more our creative work really is that -- actual, honest-to-goodness, paid work.  Granted, I don't make as much from composing as I do from some jobs, but it's no longer a negligible amount, the sort I might expect in a Christmas check from a relative.  As my composing becomes more and more financially viable to me, it becomes even easier to put aside other so-called "obligations" in favor of doing work that is "legitimate" in both a spiritual and fiscal sense.

So the next time someone or something tries to interrupt your creative time, step back and ask yourself just how important your creative dreams are to you.  Don't let interruptions completely derail the train of your creative goals.