Stealth Writing

I've been working pretty hard all morning getting my basement cleaned out. For a little over the past four years my writing office has been down there, along with my "library." It served me well and everyone was happy with the arrangement (though I jokingly refer to it as the "Radon Cave"). Here's the problem. My wife spends at least one day a week working from her home office, which is located up on our third floor, next to our bedroom and our daughter's bedroom. Now, we're expecting our second child this September, in exactly two months. So we're facing a bit of the old "shrinking house" syndrome.

A few months ago my wife hit upon the solution: refinish the basement and put both our offices down there (as well as a new walled-off laundry room), and make her current office the newborn's room.

Okay. Well and good. We called a few contractors, got some estimates, and went with a friend of a friend to refinish the basement. Only problem is he can't start work until August 1. But after some consideration, we decided that wasn't a problem because he insisted he needed to finish the job within ten days or else he wouldn't make money (I hope we're not being too naive here). So, I have twelve days to empty out the current unfinished but very well-lived in basement.

So all this morning I've been packing up books, CDs, and printed papers - so far six boxes full. And I still have to get two more boxes from work to finish the remaining two bookshelves (I estimate I had about 150 books, hardcover and softcover, down there). Just to finish the set up to my thoughts here, earlier in the day I spent 45 minutes updating Quicken and paying bills, showered, dressed my daughter, took her with me to the post office and then the library, then began working on the basement at the same time doing a couple of loads of laundry.

I got to thinking: what happened to all that free time I used to have? My weekends seemed to stretch out endlessly for me as a younger guy in my twenties. My options were open, limitless, really. I had money and presumably all the time in the world to do whatever I pleased.

In retrospect, I did not manage that time well.

Yes, I know, I know, marriage, a house, a child, another on the way, and all the work and time demands they all entail. I understand and welcome all that. I am well aware and appreciate that these are the things that truly matter, not being a dopey twenty-five-year-old lounging in front of the TV for six hours nursing a hangover. I wouldn't change anything. Well, one thing.

Time. I need more time. I need to find more time, to read, to decompress, to do some physical fitness stuff to keep my heart healthy. Time to myself (and my wife understands this). And, I need time to write.

I have so many projects on deck I'm almost at the point of analysis paralysis. I have two short stories buzzing about my skull, as well as a short novel that's a cross between SF and mystery, and a longer epic novel that's got some elements of fututistic SF and medieval fantasy intertwined. I also want to take a crack at a nonfiction book and have a couple of subjects under consideration. But it doesn't matter, 'cause I don't have time to write. No, scratch that. I don't make time to write. I've maintained this blog and its daily entries for over four months. So I can find thirty or sixty minutes a day to write.

There's plenty of examples of what's known as stealth writing. My favorite is Elmore Leonard (Get Shorty and a whole host of those gritty crime noir-slash-tongue-in-check-comedies). I read that before he was able to write full-time he had to support himself working for either a marketing or an advertising firm. He'd write at work. But he'd do it by stealth. You know those desks that have the center drawer that slides out at you? You put pens, pencils, staples, etc. in there? Well, he cleared it out and put his notebook in, with a folder to cover it should he have to open it when a supervisor was looking. And he'd write during the day, and if a boss came in, he'd simply close the drawer and attend to the work sitting on top of his desk.

I like that. Stealth writing. Now, to brainstorm ...