Another brilliant piece from a GUNNAS WRITING MASTERCLASS WRITER
This year, particularly in the last few months, the urge to write has been so strong, “write, write, write, write” is a constant whir in my head. When I close my eyes, a big neon sign lights up and says “FOR GOD’S SAKE WRITE SOMETHING” So, this year and particularly in the last few months, my house has been damn fucking clean.
I can’t start writing until I see a smooth clean freshly made bed, a gleaming clear kitchen bench, clothes tumbling in the washing machine. Oh god, I love the smell of jif in the morning. I can’t start writing until the clothes are away, until the cupboards are re-organised, as per instruction from Marie Kondo’s book The Life Changing Art of Tidying Up, until I have reorganized some furniture and fluffed up some decorative cushions on the living room couch. Take a guess at how many words I have written so far? Yeah, none.
“Today, I’ll start writing” but first l’ll clear out all the shit I’ve been hoarding for my entire existence from the spare room and create a modern Scandinavian inspired work space with a beautiful desk, comfortable desk chair, tasteful floor covering and an incredibly impressive fiddle leaf fig tree that I don’t kill. Because I can’t possibly start writing, I haven’t got an inspirational quote above my desk or a piece of abstract art that I painted myself in response to “how the ocean makes me feel” … no, I can’t write a word.
For the first time tonight – I ignored the dirty dinner dishes, half chopped vegetables, cold pasta on the stove, a half sucked mango pip and old coffee cups from the morning screaming “help us, we’re dyyyinnnggg.” I turned a blind eye. I ignored the voice in my head, “maybe just quickly pop those away and wipe down the bench before you write anything”. I walked to the spare room with my nose in the air and opened my computer. “Hmmmm, what are you doing with this room and desk that you don’t use, sure it wouldn’t help you’re writing to clear off this space, what is all this random shit? An old shell from a holiday in Tasmania? Some old scribbled notes? Vacuum cleaner parts, why don’t you use those more? They’d be good for vacuuming the car. Maybe you should go vacuum the car before you start writing? Wait you’re writing? Who are you? You can’t write with that stuff blocking your writer’s flow? There’s nothing Scando about this room at all … you can’t write with all that shit around can you?
Turns out I can and I just did.
Write first, clean second.