The McDonald's Office

Sometimes, the house is an accumulation of voices vying for my time. I just can't ignore the dishes in the sink, the dust on the entertainment center, or the toothpaste splattered in the bathroom sink. We all have days during which the house is in disarray. No matter how hard we work to keep it clean, an unexpectedly busy day sets the stage for a few messes. For me, yesterday was fraught with an unusual number of errands and activities. My eyes paid the price this morning when I scanned the eyesore and felt a pull to clean it up that I would liken to the Death Star's tractor beam.

But, wait, I'm a writer now, and I have committed myself to working five hours a day. No matter what.

The fact is, if I worked an office job, I wouldn't call my boss and tell her I'm going to be a few hours late because I need to get my cleaning done. Being my own boss, I need to practice same respect and discipline.

Freeing my mind of the guilt of leaving my home messy requires some mental acrobatics. Here, a little bit of playful pretending can be helpful. I pretend that my, ahem, “Art,” is a higher calling than grime. I call up as much hubris as my passive demeanor can muster without making my eyeballs blow out from the strain.

For the days when the homemaker in me simply will not stand down, I head to my local McDonald's or library to take advantage of their WI-fi connection. This morning, my caffeine addiction led me to McDonald's. I'm free of the distractions of home while basically glued to my seat because it's just not wise to leave a laptop computer unattended in public.

Leaving home to write is an education in work habits. It can help you learn techniques that can keep you on track even when you come home. Here's what I learned.

• I can, actually, realign my concentration without a ritualistic (and time-wasting) walk to my coffee pot.

• Music is not distracting when I am freed of the control to turn it up, down, or off altogether.

• Mornings, especially, require due diligence and care to prevent wastefulness. They are my warm up time and, traditionally, the time when I get frustrated with my lack of productivity.

• Yet, if I just stay put, the engine will warm up and my perseverance will pay off come afternoon.

I left McDonald's when the lunch crowd was coming in. At home, I was eager to get back to work. I spent a quick ten minutes tidying up the kitchen simply because I don't want to stare at it from my seat at the kitchen table. The rest can be done during designated cleaning times.

I used to think that writing in public was just a pompous display. Well, turns out I was being harshly critical. Taking my laptop to a public place so that I can work is actually helpful. I learn how to tolerate distractions, stay seated, and focus my attention. There is nothing around me while I am working in public that could benefit from my attention. I learn that, as a woman, I don't need perfection around me to focus on my writing. I simply need to set aside my feeling of responsibility for every aspect of my environment.

In Your Face, Supermom

This week, I have made the most that I ever have with Textbroker. I implemented a new strategy that I hope will pay dividends in the projected growth of my write at home business. I just sat down and did it. Yep, that's it. And, although I enjoy writing - yes, even about the Uniform Commercial Code - it isn't always that easy get all Nike about it and just do it.

It makes me a rather poor feminist to admit that my biggest albatross has been self-inflicted mom guilt. You know the kind. The kiddos wrap their precious little arms around you when you tell them you are quitting your job to be at home with them all day long. Then, a few years later, necessity and impending insanity compels you start doing something to make a little money and alleviate the failure complex the laundry has instilled in you.

The Super Mom demigoddess, the image of which we torture ourselves to live up to, tells us that we should be able to entertain limitless interruptions and still make the writing quota that will pay for that pricey summer camp. And if we can't tolerate interruptions, then we should get up at the crack of dawn to churn out words, an ode to our great-grandmothers who not only churned butter, but also fed the chickens and made biscuits all in the time it takes us to perk up with half a pot of coffee.

Well, it wasn't happening for me. I felt frazzled and perplexed. Finally, I realized that my insistence to multitask was only spreading the failure around. Everything was getting done, but poorly and sporadically.

I wish I could say that my determination alone was all I needed to turn things around. Truthfully, we were getting down to the last inning, or the last quarter, or whatever it is they do in golf. Hubby and I are setting goals and my income is essential to their completion. It was either make this work at home thing work or get a real (boring) job. Thanks, a lot, Dave Ramsey.

I've known from the get-go that I don't want to re-enter the office grind. For various reasons, it's a dead end for me, a road guaranteed to be paved with frustration, not to mention the uncomfortable shoes. But, I am also realizing the value of working from home. I may be a big ol' meanie when I tell my kids that they must save their questions for when I am not working. But, if I get to doing this thing right, I'll have income and no boss to ration my presence at school functions. If I get my act together, then I'll have a job and still be here when they get home from school. And we won't have to churn our own butter to make it work. Camp money will be had and I might even submit to shopping for a few school clothes at the mall.

In other words, giving this thing my all and doing it right may make me feel good and that good feeling isn't anything to feel guilty about (you got that, miss hotshot-demigoddes?) I'm also doing a heck of a thing for my family when I focus on our future and not the current crisis that makes it imperative that the kids ask Mom for that sugary treat now, not ten minutes from now, I mean, now.