O, Oh, my man has crossed the line to the dark side.. yup.. he is starting his own blog, as those that have read some of his excellent stories on the blog here knows, he has skills that this old farmgal just can’t touch when it comes to the written word, I write with my own voice, and try an share knowledge and my love of life on my blog..

I have a feeling that those of you that choose to read his blog,  will soon find themselves hooked, after all it was his writing that helped make his gal fall head over heels and agree to fly to a different province to meet a stranger in person.

Now on with the show as they say…

The many edges of Farmwriter

“The name of the blog isn’t just a matter of borrowing a popular phrase for the sake of convenience*.

See, I’ve heard from accomplished writers that I, as a writer, should be putting out three hundred words a day, every day.  Under the right circumstances, I can do that in less than an hour.  There’s just the minor complication that there are other priorities that can and must have my attention.

Foremost, of course, is my wife.  Known on the blogosphere as Farmgal, she’s been the most important part of my life for fourteen years now.  We met online, and in that initial period of getting to know each other’s interests, attitudes, and personalities, our communication was strictly through e-mail.  Those first tentative e-mails were short and cautious, and we talked about reading.  It happened that a major character in my current read of the time shared Farmgal’s name and two of her interests**.  Soon enough, though, those e-mails grew in size and frequency until we were typing out voluminous love letters three or four times a day.  It’s fair to say that our online courtship was the most important and rewarding writing I’ve ever done – and it lives on in a great big binder full of print-outs.

A second priority is my job.  I’m a civil servant, and have been all my professional life – first as a geologist, then as a manager of geologists, and now as a policy wonk.  Apart from the time commitment involved, the job itself can simply be draining at times.  If I’ve spent all day writing and editing a briefing note or a policy paper, there’s a good chance I might not feel like more writing and editing in my down-time.  If I’ve got homework, I might not even have the time for it.

A third priority is the farm.  My wife doesn’t call herself Farmgal for giggles; we’ve got a small farm out in the sticks past Ottawa.  Not a hobby farm, either – we raise enough livestock and grow enough fruit and vegetables that we’re bordering on self-sufficiency.  That adds another mandatory time commitment, since gardens must be planted, and critters must be cared for.  I normally spend forty-five minutes to an hour on chores each day, and that can double if the weather’s not cooperating or something has broken or whatever.

But…

But…

There’s always time to write.  During the pauses, the lulls, and the in-between times, opportunities present themselves.

Whatever else is happening, Farmgal will do what’s necessary to ensure I’ve got some down-time each day.  We often hang out with our laptops in the living room or bedroom – she blogging or moderating her favorite discussion board, me writing; we visit, chatter, and vent while we’re typing.  She pushed me to start submitting stories for publication, she critiques my work, and she’s pretty darn knowledgeable about this blogging thing, too.

As this post demonstrates, my lengthy commute to and from work offers an opportunity to write***.  The sometimes inane nature of the job can spark ideas of satire.  I can meet genuinely interesting people that inspire characters.  If I’m lucky, I can travel to places or events that might appear as settings later on.  Plus, of course, those late nights in hotels and long lay-overs in airports provide enforced down-time for writing.

Even the farm offers up opportunities.  Obviously I can’t actually write while carrying water buckets or forking out manure, but there’s something almost zen-like about repetive manual labour.  The body’s working, there’s no cultural distractions like music or the internet, and so the mind just says, “Dude, I’m gonna go wander off that way for a while”.  So I contemplate troublesome scenes or dialogue, whether written or yet to be written, and I come up with new ideas.

So I do manage to get a word in edgewise.”

*Although it was that too.

**Farmgal did not also seem to share the interest of world conquest, but occasionally I wonder.

***If I’m not slumped against the side of the bus, sleeping