Are You Putting Your Writing Last? Good. That’s the Way It Should Be.

Writing is never our first calling, and we need to remind ourselves of that sometimes.

If you’re like me, some of you are sitting at the computer right now wondering how in the world you’re going to come up with a great article.

For example, a lot of times, I look at myself as a writer and think, “What have I got to talk about that will entice readers?” Then, after a pregnant pause, I hear my inner voice respond sympathetically, “Nothing really, my dear. Nothing anyone else wants to hear.”

Sometimes in my most desperate moments, I even think I could lie. I could cook up some creative fiction, some juicy stories hungry readers will want to hear. For instance, I could tell you that I’m free and single, hitting clubs and having wild beach weekends with the girls or engaging in trysts with provocative strangers or married men. I’ve got a good imagination. I could do that.

But the truth is that I’ve been married for over twenty years, and most of my evenings are spent pouring over unpaid bills and dealing with grumpy teenagers instead of living the wild and adventurous lives that some of you have.

I also can’t intrigue you with tales of exotic wanderings or travels around the world because for the last eighteen years I’ve been changing poopy diapers, picking up action figures or Barbie dolls, spending hours helping my children with school projects, or grading essays that I assign my own students. And at the moment, my bucket list travel spots of Rome and Paris are currently being sacrificed to pay for my child’s braces and save for my children’s college funds.

So often, I wish that my life was more exciting, full of escapades and mind-blowing exploits that would help me have a great story to tell you.

But alas, I only am a wife, mother, and teacher. Then, after all that, I call myself a writer. Sad that it doesn’t even get a bronze medal, right? And maybe your identity as a writer is last as well. Maybe you call yourself a father, husband, and mechanic. Then, with a shameful shrug of embarrassment, you say, “I also dabble in writing.” Maybe you call yourself a grandmother and a nurse, and then, only then, do you mention that you’re a writer.

And if the label “writer” comes last on your list of accolades as mine does, let me tell you something you’ve probably heard but never really let sink in. Your order of priorities is exactly as it should be, so don’t you dare chastise yourself for that being the sequence of affairs in your life.

You’re doing the right thing by doing the most important work first.

Maybe you can’t pound out three articles a day, and it’s okay. Maybe you’re too busy changing dirty diapers or filling sippy cups. Maybe your body aches so much from construction work during the day that after a hot shower and your kid’s favorite bedtime story, the only thing on your mind is getting enough sleep so that you can do the same thing all over again. Maybe you’re a nurse who held a dying patient’s hand today or a doctor who told someone far too young that they have cancer, and you can’t sit down at the keyboard and write because the pain is still too fresh.

When you’re doing life right, you’re spending more time with people instead of words on the page. And you’re creating masterpieces.

Case in point.

I spent over a thousand dollars making myself a writing room. I filled it with pictures of all my favorite writers and candles and a fake electric fireplace to add ambience (I can’t afford a real one on a teacher’s salary). When I started to become serious about writing, I told my teen children it was “my refuge” and no one else was allowed in it while I was working.

Oh well, so much for rules.

Right now, I am writing in my writer’s nook, but I am not alone. My sacred creative space has been invaded by my thirteen-year-old daughter who watched a horror movie and can’t sleep. She is too scared to lie in her bedroom right now so she is here, on my hallowed ground, eating Doritos and scrolling on her phone. And yes, she’s hampering my writer’s “vibe” and also yes, if I’m honest, I’m a bit annoyed.

But then, minutes later, I glance back at her because the annoying crunching of nachos has stopped. She is sleeping peacefully, cuddled on my writer’s couch, Doritos bag on the floor, sporting a red gritty ring around her mouth. Her fears are gone simply because I, her lifelong protector, am in the same room with her.

In that moment, I am transported in my mind to a memory of her at seven years old, crawling into my bed in the middle of the night for comfort because she heard something menacing under her bed. And I realize at that second that nothing has changed. It’s been six years, and still, just my presence makes her feel safe.

And even though my great story idea was not able to be successfully pounded out on the computer because of her munching and snoring, I was still writing. I was writing a chapter in her novel that she will never forget. A chapter that says no matter what, mom will be there.

And I know that likely you’ve been composing chapters in other people’s lives right now as well, chapters that have perhaps kept you from writing viral stories of the more concrete kind.

Because sometimes, being a writer last isn’t even due to the endless responsibilities of being a parent, worker, or caregiver. It’s the fact that the nouns coming before your label of writer fill you with emotions that temporarily stifle your creativity and imagination

Maybe you’re a mother who can’t write, one who only sits and stares at the keyboard because you’re too busy worrying that your child’s cough is something more than just a cold. Or maybe you’re a father looking at a blank computer screen biting your nails, wondering how you’re going to make one hundred and fifty bucks last your family to the next paycheck.

And even when we do have the time and mental energy to compose, the fact that we put the word “writer” last on our resume haunts us.

We feel that it is our destiny to forever only be Mom, Grandpa, Nurse Watson, Professor B, or Night Shift Manager Baldwin. We feel we can write stories but never be truly great at the craft because there’s simply not enough of us to go around.

We think how to ourselves how can we reach literary fame when we are robots who spend most of our time cooking dinner, giving baths, guzzling coffee and heading to work day after day and week after week. We think how can we reach our writing dreams when we can only write once or twice a week or only on the weekends.

But we need to stop worrying about things such as this.

Don’t get me wrong. It’s imperative that when we get those chances to create, we take extreme advantage of them. And there’s nothing wrong with asking a friend or our spouse to help us get more of those times in our lives to dedicate to writing.

But we must be kind to ourselves as well. We must be aware that even though we are not at the keyboard, we are changing lives by writing stories of a different nature.

For example, the thirty minutes you spend with your grandson making a birdhouse instead of composing a poem may turn him into a carpenter one day.

The hour you spend talking to your daughter about bullies instead of doing research for your next piece may one day propel her to stand up for herself or even someone else who feels lost and alone.

The nights you spend rocking your baby or having a Disney princess tea party instead of writing that self-help article you think will go viral may be giving someone the enormous gift of feeling safe, secure, and loved.

And let me tell you — those stories always go viral. Because humans respond to others mostly by how others have responded to them first, so your care will breed more care, your kindness will breed more kindness, and your love will breed more love. And the influence of that story never stops.

So today if you can’t manage to compose a chapter of your great American novel or study facts about SEO that will help you market your work, it’s okay. As a matter of fact, it’s more than okay. You’re writing your own life memoir and playing an extremely large role in someone else’s life story, whether it be the story of your own children’s lives, a person you “touch” in your job, or even the lonely neighbor next door.

The computer will always be there waiting for you, for the right time and the right inspiration when the stars align and you can let all your genius flow out onto the paper. But for now, if you have bigger fish to fry, fry them. Because being a great human being is always better than being a great writer. So my advice is to always be a writer last. Always.

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