Well, the first thing I did when the internet turned off is go log in on the kids’ computer, which is a little embarrassing. In my defense, I’d just written and posted a long thing, and wanted to check it a couple time to fine-tune the language, and see if there were any comments indicating I’d not said things the way I wanted to say them, so it was actually writing-related, and I didn’t then fall down a Facebooking rabbit hole. But still. I told Kev, and he’s now added that to the list of machines that will be off from 8 – 10 a.m.
Report back from two hours sans internet — last night, I asked Kev to turn off the router for my computer and phone from 8 – 10 a.m. every day.
Then I read for an hour, re-reading an old novel I loved, sheer comfort reading, which I haven’t done in a while. But I think I do need to read more regularly, to feed that part of my brain.
And then, about an hour and a half in, I finally, actually, opened up the novel file and moved a couple things around, and then wrote about 500 new words.
I feel dumb that it takes forcibly removing my internet access to get me to write; it is a blow to my self-image and pride that I am apparently not currently capable of willing myself to stay away. Kev and I were talking about it, and we’re hopeful that, like exercise, it’ll be easier once I’ve gotten into a regular routine of it.
When I was in grad school, working on Bodies in Motion, I set my alarm for 4 a.m. every morning. I got up while the world was sleeping, made tea, lit a candle, and opened the file for the book. Of course, I also basically had no other life and went to bed at 8 p.m., so that would be hard to recreate now. But I’d like to tip my life a little more in that direction. It’s also more serene, overall, than the often-frantic whirl of the rest of my life. Serenity good.