I’ve been getting nostalgic about writing. Years ago, in the bygone days before Facebook Messenger, I’d write long emails to my siblings and parents. You see, my brothers and sisters wrote from these exotic places – Japan, Cambodia, Europe, The Solomons. I wrote back about life with small children and the exotic places we would visit – Kmart, Aldi, Ikea, Bunnings Warehouse. These emails evolved into a blog about Catholicism and family life. It was cheap therapy.
I remember when I first emailed the editor of Australian Catholics. I was a stay-at-home mother to four children and pregnant with twins. Gathering a few of my favourite blog posts, I bravely wrote a cover letter and hit send. And then I hit refresh. And refresh again. When he finally emailed back (a full 10 minutes later) I slid down off my chair and onto the floor in a happy puddle. He liked my writing. He wanted me to write something for the magazine.
I loved writing that article. A few months later, I heard back from the editor. When I tell the story, the email arrives mere hours after I’d given birth. That’s definitely the way I remember it. But when I fact-checked the situation, it was actually two days later. Not nearly as dramatic. If you like, we can pretend it was the same day. It makes the story more exciting.
NEW BEGINNINGS
So, there I was, in the delivery theatre and my phone pings. ‘Pardon me,’ I said to the obstetrician and the paediatrician and the anaesthetist and the husband and the two new babies and the 500 nurses. ‘I just need to check my email.’
My editor wanted me to write another column. He wanted to take me on as a regular. Of course, the man didn’t know I had just given birth to twins one minute ago. He would have definitely accommodated me if I said I needed a break. But I did not want a break. I wanted to lock this down.
For the next month, I kept an exercise book and pen next to my chair for when I was feeding the babies, which was pretty much ALL THE TIME NO BREAK. I might have had a shower once, but I don’t think I was awake for it. I wrote with my left hand as well as my right. You might think that doing this job at such an intense time would have been stressful, a burden, but it was a lifeline. I could barely leave the house and when I did, it was to have the same five conversations about identical baby girls on repeat. I loved working on that column, just as I’ve loved the many columns that followed.
ANOTHER IDENTITY
It helped me so much, in those relentless early days of parenting, to do something that was just for me. Having a small identity that was separate from motherhood somehow made me a better mother. It’s been my favourite thing to get an hour to myself to sneak to a cafe or library to write. I didn’t like the time between projects, when I’d sent off a column but didn’t yet have a new one. Eventually, I used this time to work, bit-by-bit, on a novel.
Writing isn’t my vocation. Motherhood is. Writing is a satisfying and sometimes lucrative side-hustle. But I do love it so. And I’ve learned not to feel guilty about taking time out with a coffee and my bluetooth keyboard. When God calls us to our vocation, he is not calling us to be burnt-out or resentful. Recharging is necessary. It’s not an indulgence.
It really doesn’t seem that long ago that I started out. But those twins? They are now energetic seven-year-olds. That fledgling novel? It’s in the shop this month.
Tuesday Evenings with the Copeton Craft Resistance
Kate’s novel, Tuesday Evenings with the Copeton Craft Resistance (by Kate Solly) is available in bookstores from 27 December 2022.