Writing And Caregiving: Can They Play Nicely Together?
Or is it 'self-sabotage' to love and care for other people AND dare to want to write?
A brief interlude in your day. A coffee break together. For a moment. xoxox
Years ago, a writer I won’t name wondered aloud if I was committing ‘self-sabotage by having four children.’
Deliberately ruining my writing life.
All the things I planned to write about this week shifted when I read
’s post: I Feel Like a Trapped Octopus.Her story resonated because of something that happened at the gym the day before while I was trying to work out with two of my kids and my mother-in-law present. When I got them settled, I expressed joy that my kids would return to school after ten weeks of summer.
TEN WEEKS!
“Huh, I don’t feel like that,” another mom replied. She’s lovely. Her kids weren’t with us. Mine were howling at each other and calling me over…
“Good,” I said. “Great.”
“I guess I just really love my children,” she added.
THIS!
She’s a brilliant person, and smart. And I’m happy she loves her children. (I replied that I hate mine and laughed). But what I really thought was, oh, we can love and also want to be away from our beloveds, surely…
Back to
.She says of her beloved family:
My daily schedule? Yep, they decide that too. “You think you’re going to get some food in, Mum? HA! Think again”. They decide when I work, when I clean the house, WHEN I USE THE BATHROOM!! I’m not in control of anything!
As a writer with four kids and my mother-in-law in our home, I spend a lot of time caregiving.
Often, I like it.
Last night, I walked in from my son’s soccer tryouts and my mother-in-law was roaming the house in distress, despite my husband beside her. She was looking for something, but didn’t know what. So we opened a book about birds together. Repeated soothing words. Reminded her she was safe. And birds were interesting. And beautiful. And original. Her words.
She quickly calmed down and settled; I enjoyed caring for her.
AND. I’m a writer. I need those lingering hours when nothing’s happening for ideas to percolate. Brew. Pour onto the page.
I might get percolation. I might get a little brew time. Sometimes, I write.
Or not.
Even as I started this, my mother-in-law wandered into my office, lost and puzzled all over again. I jumped up and settled her, popped on a light, gave her a book, and offered her tea.
Is this self-sabotage? Loving like this? Yet wanting to write?
I don’t know the answer. Maybe you do?
I have support and financial capacity and, at the moment, most members of my household sleep through the night. Many other writers or aspiring writers have huge challenges and responsibilities, financial struggles, systemic hurdles or outright blocks, which make getting to the page a distant dream.
Writing might be really hard for you right now.
Even impossible.
But I want these quiet writing moments for you as much as I want them for me.
That writer, years ago, who asked me if it were self-sabotage, tugged something loose. Maybe she was right. Maybe wanting to write and wanting a family weren’t compatible.
Her words impacted me for a long time. It seemed impossible to manage writing and all the other things I need to do.
Yet.
At a literary event, Elizabeth Strout said (something like) she always knew she wanted to write, but, for her, motherhood gave her something she needed, too. The room became still. I saw myself reflected. A writer and a parent. A writer and a caregiver. A writer AND….
Slowly, the words of other writers and mothers helped me understand that I need and want both writing and caregiving, and that these impact my writing life in both negative and positive ways. Those many writers, friends, women, and caregivers have inspired me to make a small semantic shift.
In my case, it’s not self-sabotage. Instead, I use a different word: season.
The leaves are turning yellow, falling from the trees, life will transform sooner than I can imagine. I’ll get more writing time, perhaps, but something golden in this chaotic, intense hurly-burly will be lost.
And all of it might fuel my writing (when I get a moment on the page)…
One final thought:
I’m sure sometimes men get asked, “How do you write and manage a family life?” but I wonder if they’re asked as often? Does anyone ever wonder out loud to them if it’s self-sabotage to want children and to write a novel?
xoxo
Alice
Please share this with someone who you think might find this helpful as they navigate their own busy days.
**I don’t hate my children, in case you wondered.
If you’re new here, my name is Alice Kuipers and I’m a writer, mother and dog-owner transplanted twenty years ago to the Canadian prairies from England. I’ve published fourteen books in 36 countries and my writing has been described as: “For storytellers and story lovers,” by Kirkus Reviews; ‘Gorgeous, heart-ripping, important,” by VOYA; and “Intense and wonderful” by Bif Naked. Join me for coffee breaks to look at lines from great writers.
Xoxo
Read: I’m casting in the waters for the next book to read. I bought Remarkably Bright Creatures and Ground Zero at a recent bookstore outing. Have any of you read either? Recommendations for me? I loved God of the Woods recently…
And maybe this is helpful for those of you parenting kids with ADHD:
Updates: Now the children are back at school (audible cheering!) I’m going to update the About page on Confessions and Coffee and make sure this space and these pieces really feel like pauses in your busy day. Thank you for being a part of this.
Work at The Novelry has been full and fun with our amazing writers and team. If you want to write with me, find me there.
And my book! I’m nearing the end of draft six of my crime novel, while simultaneously getting ready to launch Spark—a book for adults who want to write for kids and young adults—in early November….
Tell me, how are you? What would you like to read more about here with me? Who else do you love on Substack?
Alice, you nailed it when you mentioned seasons - there is a time for everything, and that isn't always when we expect (or hope) it to be.
Dream Sisters took 25 years to write. Incubation started before the turn of the century and then there were occasional forays back into the 10,000 words sitting in the document on my computer - and then the season of lock down arrived and there were no more excuses to not write.
I enjoyed having a reason to be at my computer, creating magic, creating many more sentences, creating life for my characters.
It still took 4 more years to complete - I would leave it for months while life intervened and then when I went back into the story, I could see it with fresh eyes and fresh enthusiasm.
That time away from me gave the characters a chance to decide what they wanted to happen in the plot - and when I visited them again, they had the reasons for the plot change all mapped out. I couldn't argue.
The end result of this lengthy gestation is a story I am proud of and now I call myself an author, even though I may never write another book.
The reason for this ramble is to say that you aren't self-sabotaging your writing - everything you experience in your life builds up golden material. Without life experiences, our writing is less rich, because everything we experience, good, bad and indifferent, builds a repository and our thoughts then mine that repository so we create wonderful words on a page.
So for you right now, your writing might not be your main activity, but that does not diminish its importance.
And a season doesn't have to be months, it can be moments slotted in wherever you can find them.
Once an idea is in your mind, or in your writing notes, then you can revisit it the next time the opportunity arises.
I just had an image of a merry-go-round and you watching it from the side lines. When it stops you get on for one or two circles - however many you have time for - then when you are back on the side lines living your other life , the merry-go-round continues without you, until next time.
But it is always there, waiting for you.
Find enjoyment in building your golden material compost - you will reap the rewards!
Loved your post - so much honesty is beautiful. :-)
The kids will grow and move on building lives of their own, your mother-in-law will likely need more extensive care as her dementia gets worse and you will find yourself with time you never thought would ever arrive. That is the place I find myself in now. And, I often spend that time (perhaps too much?) letting things percolate and brew instead of writing. I always prided myself with "getting shit done" and wondered what it would be like and imagine what I could do with "more time." I now know! I procrastinate. ALOT. Right now, I will take my dog for a walk (usually when ideas come), and then later, before my grandsons descend for a weekend sleepover, I will sit down and write. It's funny, that without a deadline, or something that I know will compress my time, I always think I can write 'later' because I have time. It's a weird double-edged sword.
And BOO to the people that talk about self-sabotage or somehow you don't love your children because what??!! That's just rude. I talk about enjoying my empty-nest all the time and some people say how much they miss their kids and wish they could be with them all the time. I LOVE MY ADULT CHILDREN TOO! But, it doesn't mean I want to live with them! I can't turn off being a mom when they are around, even as adults and I like being my own person again AND being a mom when needed.
Ha, this turned out to be a bit of a rant. Probably because I haven't journaled yet, or maybe because I need to sit down and write as opposed to walk the dog. But, the dog is waiting patiently at my feet, looking up telling me it's time. Sometimes they are just like kids.
Loved this post. Think I might need to turn this into a post myself! Thanks for the inspiration. :)