I could be talking about how my writing has no limits. How my brain is free to play in the fields of my limitless imagination.
But I’m not.
I’m talking about the writing life. How because I work from home, at all hours of the day and night, there seem to be no boundaries to tell me when the workday ends.
It’s almost enough to make me miss the days of my—thankfully short—commute and a defined work schedule. Almost. I had crappy hours, but once I drove away, I was done. I’m really much happier now, home when my kids get done with school, available to take them to swim practice or pick them up from an after-school event.
Able to work out daily.
But lately I’ve been feeling a bit burned out by my time in front of the computer, much of which is not spent writing. Social media and email are addictive, but no one’s going to miss me if I’m not there. I don’t have to read every tweet since last time I checked my list.
The fate of the free world—or any other part of the world, for that matter—does not rest on my reply to the latest email.
Many of my writer friends keep odd hours of their own, and I like being available when they are. I don’t plan to impose “office hours”, but I’m giving myself permission to sign off when I need to without worry.
Even a hot request from an agent or editor can wait until morning (ha, yeah, right). It’s not like she’s going to read it before bed.
So, I’m trying to cut back on the stuff that doesn’t matter as much—yes, again—and focus on enjoying the time I spend at the keyboard. Hopefully, writing.
How do you set boundaries for yourself. Do you set “office hours”?
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