Things that stop you writing, by Elizabeth Kay
As I sit here with this file open in front of me, an entire roll of kitchen towels to my right, antihistamine eye drops to my left, and a large glass of water to counteract the drying-out effect of Cetirizine allergy tablets, I am convinced that hayfever is the worst enemy of creativity there is. Of course, a couple of years ago I would have said the same about psoriasis on my fingertips, as typing with plasters on them is not the most accurate way to work. Then there’s backache, toothache, headache, broken bones, pulled muscles. And the accompanying drugs to combat these may cloud your mind or make you fall asleep. But there are so many other things that can frustrate the urge to finish that poem, or start that novel.
Insects. The
drone of a mosquito is enough to distract anyone, because you know that if you
don’t get it the little beast will bite you, and give you nasty red lumps that
will itch like mad for days. But getting rid of it causes all sorts of other problems,
as if you flail wildly around attempting to swat it you may swat something else
entirely, such as a cup of tea or your computer. I advise insect repellent or a
head net. The same is true of bees, although we’re meant to be kind to bees. I keep
a glass and a small sheet of cardboard handy. I trap the bee when it lands on
the window, slide the carboard underneath and release the critter outside, when
it usually flies off as though the hounds of hell are after it. Bees in the conservatory
that abuts my office are rather more of a problem, as they will always go for
the highest point which is out of reach and buzz despairingly. I keep a broom
with natural bristles close by, as a bee may well think it’s just discovered a
bush and crawl onto it, and I can usually simply carry it outside, when it flies
off in a disorientated sort of way, circling around a bit before it remembers
which way is home. Wasps are different. I grew up in a cake shop, and they were
the arch enemies. They don’t cooperate with bristly brushes, either. Enough said.
Ants can be a real nuisance, and I have to resort to ant powder which they
carry back to the nest.
Relatives. Small children, long phone calls, unexpected visitors. Enough said.
Barking dogs. I have no answer here. I don't think a shotgun or a catapult would be allowed.
Heat. We
don’t have air conditioning, as in the UK the idea of it ever being too hot
seems impossible until it actually happens. Fans seem to be the only answer,
and cold drinks. Beware of too many glasses of Tom Collins or Pimms, as you may
end up writing something else entirely to the task you set yourself. If you
have one of those Dolce Gusto machines I can recommend Cappuccino Ice. (Short
break here, to actually go and make one. Yum.) There are those gel things you
put in the fridge. They work well, but don’t last long enough, so you need a team
of three of them and a rota. One on the back of your neck or another area of
your anatomy, one waiting to come out of the fridge, and one you’ve just put
back in there. And if it’s all got too much, you can go and read something set
in prehistoric Antarctica, such as my book Ice Feathers.
Extraneous noise. And lastly,
as I’m just dealing with things that affect my concentration, there is building
work. At the moment I have it on both sides. It’s been going on for nearly a
year, and will probably last a lot longer as one side keeps making serious
mistakes and having to redo things, and the other side is building an entire
house and runs out of money now and again. I have had to cope with Kango drills
digging up floors just a few yards from my office, plasterboard being sawn up outside
which fills the air with dust, drains being re-sited, the list goes on and on.
On one side they’re nice, and do their best to be helpful. The other side is
being turned into flats by a company, who keep sending in different contractors
and leaving the doors open so that the sound is almost unbearable. They range from
the kind and understanding to the “Tough. I’ve got a living to earn.” I bought
some ear defenders which reduce the noise level considerably, but not
altogether. I’m not one of those people who can block out noise with music, I
need silence or close to it. So long walks have been one solution. I set myself
a plotting task, or something similar, and try to come back with new ideas. Of
course, this is no good if you don’t remember them the moment you walk through
the front door. Saying them out loud to myself often works, and doesn’t seem as
mad as it used to because people are always taking on their phones. Otherwise,
I make notes on my phone.
I’d be interested to know what other writers find equally frustrating…
Comments
Which answers your question. I find noise hardest to bear, whether I'm trying to write or not.
Great post. Made me smile. (I trap and release bees too. I have found that if you kill a wasp however, he sends out a dying signal to his mates and then you have a recurring problem, so I try to just shoo them out too..!)