I'll be in my cave.

A few weeks ago I found my son under the desk with the keyboard in his lap. Why under? He had a perfectly reasonable explanation. He was feeling, apparently, that the instant feedback about his writing (auto correct "fixing" words for him and spell check letting him know when he had typed something of questionable spelling) was getting in the way of his flow. Never mind the fact that his sisters were playing Wii games in the same room and his mom was probably singing to the radio in the too-near kitchen. He had place himself beneath the desk so that he could just focus on getting his story out and not be bombarded by the distractions.

I'm not sure how long he lasted, but I've found myself thinking a lot lately about the merit to his method. Sundays have become a big writing day for me because this is the one day I can usually manage to reserve with few distractions. Perhaps a cave-like space with just me and my keyboard is in order to finish a writing project or two. Most days I manage a moment to jot down notes, scribble something on paper and even, lately, add a few words to my work-in-progress. But distractions are always lurking and I have always been a sucker for things that sparkle. Even worse are the distractions I manage to turn into obligations. Or perhaps I should call them better...

If I lived in a cave with my keyboard, would my writing eventually grow dull and colorless?

That's part of the balance we seek as writers, I think. Sometimes it's okay to follow the distractions. Sometimes it's better to crawl under the desk and pound away at the keyboard until you've gotten all the words out.