You know how, if you want to save money, you’re supposed to put ten percent of your income in a separate account right away, before you spend anything?

Yeah, me neither. Bad analogy.

Here’s my point: I’ve been reading about people finding their ideal “creative time.” And it’s annoying me. If you’re someone who can read the newspaper all morning, walk the seawall in the afternoon, and then spend the evening sipping wine by the fireplace, then by all means, find your ideal creative time.

If you’re a NORMAL person, and you have to answer your e-mails and volunteer at the school and grocery shop and cook dinner and meet a deadline and do some laundry because that basket’s starting to smell weird and soon people aren’t going to want to come to your house anymore (oops… is that just me?), then forget finding your own creative time.

Just get up and write before everything else gets in the way!

A couple weeks ago, we headed to Victoria for a few days with my sister-in-law. While we were there, my own sister Sandy popped by to visit for a few hours.

Afterwards, my sister-in-law said this:

“You’re so nice and accommodating, until Sandy arrives. Then you get bossy and start making all sorts of suggestions.”

Ha! This is completely true. I hear all those “suggestions” coming out of my mouth, but I’m powerless to stop them. It’s an elder-sister thing. And Sandy’s so used to my nagging that she now denies noticing it.

Here’s the thing, though. I don’t actually become more critical and controlling when my sister’s around. I just become more likely to say what I think. The rest of the time, I’m biting my tongue.

This is a learned behaviour. I distinctly remember my dad telling me in high school, “You know, if you were less critical of what other people wear, you’d be less worried about your own clothes and hair all the time.”

And while I (a) immediately recognized the wisdom of these words, (b) have become less a member of the fashion police, and (c) can’t actually dress myself appropriately anymore, anyway, I’m still prone to walking around cataloguing other people’s quirks and oddities, and planning ways in which I would alter the world if I could.

I think this is part of being a writer. I think we may all be constantly wondering at weirdness, and collecting absurdities for future use, all while outwardly appearing “nice and accommodating.”

Consider yourself warned. And if you want to know what I really think, I guess you’ll have to hang out when my sister visits.