It is Saturday morning, and I am at my computer, thinking about today’s blog post. I adjust my desk chair, just a bit. I take a sip of what is now lukewarm coffee, giving myself time to think. I skim through my notes written down at random times during the week, all centered around the topic that I have chosen to explore. I jot down titles for my essay and then discard them, like slipping on and off outdated sweaters that I thought would appeal to me but do not. I stretch and reposition my keyboard, stalling for time.
Trying to adhere to planned blog content can be like doggedly trying to salvage a relationship that you know is going nowhere. I was committed to this week’s theme all the way through my morning run, still refining a topic to make it more coherent and powerful. But when I sat down to write, something was amiss. Then I figured it out: a more compelling topic was emerging.
Creative writing is diametrically different from what I have done in my law career for 35 years. With legal writing, you already know what you need to say. There is an element of innovation in how you structure your argument; you know which points are the most persuasive and how to lead off and end with a convincing punch. But you basically know where you are starting from and what your destination will be with little opportunity to change the route.
But despite my curated collection of anecdotes for this week’s chosen subject, I am not drawn towards it. Something else has pushed its way to the front of the line, shoving everything else aside. You see, for the first Saturday in probably a year, I am not at my office -- I am at home.
Going to the office on Saturday is the comforting culmination of my week. It is quiet and relaxing. It gives me a chance to tidy up from workday chaos, finishing timesheets, moving hard files to another location, saving and deleting emails, and revising legal briefs that have Monday filing deadlines.
But that changed today. One of my belated resolutions was to break the going-to-work-every-Saturday habit. I had countless justifications for my weekend workplace obsession: concentrating without interruption, accomplishing without the incessant demand to bill time, receiving mail deliveries, and using an agreeably familiar computer.
But it is more than that. It is my attachment to what I am accustomed to, my hankering for routine that fuels me. I take pride in demonstrating my commitment to my law practice. And, if I am honest, I like setting a boundary between what I feel I must do and what I give myself permission to do – a boundary that involves geographic as well as emotional distance.
Breaking a compulsion is not that easy, even if it seems like it should be. Logically, I want to avoid warming up my car, pulling out of the garage, and driving into the city. I love my house and its access to furry animals, a well-stocked refrigerator, and a funny and lovable spouse. But changing a deeply rooted habit requires a plan. I found a quiet space in my house to create a home office, I bought a small desk, I surrounded it with visual arts that I loved. I finally broke down and bought a new all-in-one desk top computer.
But even with all the necessities within the calming confines of my residence, I found myself still driving to the office. Like swearing off a naughty junk food habit, I promised myself that I would hone my new software skills -- soon. In the meantime, I kept going to work.
Today I promised myself I would stay home. I created new folders on my brand-new hardware. I saved my blog post template that I had emailed to myself. I experimented with the desk lighting. I turned on the nearby fireplace to temper the spring chill. I practiced sliding my keyboard tray and swiveling my desk chair.
I put my fingers on the keyboard and begin to type.