Sweet Sanctuary

Last week I wrote a post complaining about my lack of time to write - "Reality continues to get in the way of my life."

I figured something out, and it is actually pretty ironic since my best friend's mother is a retired librarian, and my mother is a retired library clerk: The library is a great place to get stuff done.

My biggest problem, as noted in the original post, is that I am too easily distracted by other things that I find equally important to writing. I would commit to sitting and writing, I would write for 20 minutes or so, and then the distractions would enter my consciousness. Read for a few minutes to clear my head, chat with Tim, play with the cats, see what's happening on The Bridge, call Liz, surf the net.

The library removes all of those distractions in a way that I don't feel guilty about ignoring them.

I find myself a desk, set up my laptop and my iPod (the only interference I allow, because it is soothing) and I WRITE. After the 20 minute mark, when I start to fidget, I have nowhere to go. So I fidget, bit my nails, sigh a few times, look around, become self-conscious that people are looking at me, and go back to writing. The hours between writing bouts has been shortened to minutes. It's pretty cool.

I do have Internet access - if I feel like braving the public pool of computers, and sitting next to someone questionable who is more than likely going to watch whatever I choose to do on the Internet. Therefore, I have disciplined myself to wait until I get home to surf.

Oh, sweet sanctuary of the Southwest County Regional West Boca Raton Public Library (mouthful - and it does not compare to the reverence and calming environment of the BPL, which I miss terribly.) My mother and Susan Martin should be so proud.