The Destruction of Imagination

I recently took a MasterClass on The Art of Short Storytelling taught by Joyce Carol Oates. I had taken a few of these classes here and there before, but this one quickly became my favorite. In the first lesson, Joyce shared two of the most eye-opening phrases I had ever heard as a writer.

The first: “You can't possibly work or create anything of worth if people are constantly interrupting you.” The second: “Constant interruptions are the destruction of the imagination.”

Those words could not have been truer at that time in my life. I was a mom with three young children, finally trying to follow my dream of becoming a creative writer, only to hit barriers at every turn. Let's get into it.

A New Writing Journey

When I decided to explore writing MasterClasses, I was in the midst of seriously starting my creative writing career. I had been a stay-at-home mom for years, and while I wrote freelance here and there, I really wanted to get back to my creative roots: poetry and storytelling.

On a weekly basis, I had developed a schedule in my brain about how I was going to start this career:

• Dig out old projects and decide which niche to start with.

• Try to free write and edit every day.

• Start a blog to document my writing journey.

• Take all the free MasterClasses on writing I could.

• Creator writing social media accounts to build my writing community.

The plan was started. The new planner, pretty notebooks, fancy pens. writing gloves and Freewrite Traveler were purchased (all essentials I still swear by today). I acquired a table for the corner of my room, with a comfy chair for my quiet sessions, and my fiancé at the time bought me an old oak desk for the library, where I could work while the kids were home.

Everything was falling into place. Except, I forgot: I had three young boys, ages 6, 3, and 1, then. And young children are famous for one thing and one thing only when you're trying to focus: Interruptions.

Drowning in Interruptions

How bad could it be? I initially thought. They'll see I'm writing, and they'll go play with their toys. They'll let me have a little time when their father is home, and I can write in my room. I can put on headphones to drown everything out. Piece of cake! What a fool I was.

I forgot that at this stage in my life, I barely got to go to the bathroom by myself. I never had a hot cup of coffee, I never had clean clothes, and I could barely keep track of my own shower schedule. To top it off, COVID was still in full swing, and my fiancé was an essential worker in the medical field, leaving me alone with the boys, by myself, most of the day.

But I persisted. Because I'm a dreamer and I'm stubborn.

An Experiment in Real Time

Starting Joyce Carol Oates’ writing MasterClass felt like a powerful first step for me. I had never taken a writing course after high school, and it was incredibly inspiring to hear an established author speak so openly about her process and the challenges she faced. I could watch the lessons at night or early in the morning while the kids were sleeping, and since I didn’t have much to share on my blog at the time, I thought, why not write about the classes I’m taking and pass something helpful along to other writers?

When Oates got into the topic of interruptions, that's when I felt heard, as both a mother and writer. Especially this: “You can't possibly work or create anything of worth if people are constantly interrupting you.”

Most days, I felt like I was drowning in interruptions, unable to focus long enough to form a complete thought. The constant starts and stops left me feeling guilty and ill-equipped as a writer, and I had convinced myself I was somehow failing and destined to remain unpublished.

Yet after hearing Oates talk about interruptions and the toll they take on creativity, something shifted. I began to feel less like a failed writer and more like a writer who simply hadn’t been given a real chance to work. For the first time, I wondered if my best writing hadn’t been missing, just waiting for the space to finally exist.

Pin to save for later!

The Paragraph That Never Had a Chance

Right after that first MasterClass lesson, I opened a new blog post to write about this ephiphony, and was immediately interrupted by one of my children before my fingers even touched the keys. Instead of crying, or slamming my computer shut, or throwing my dreams to the wind, I decided to try something different.

Every time I was interrupted while writing, I typed the word Interruption. I wanted to see how many real-life interruptions would happen in the short time it took to write just one paragraph. Here was the result:

I started taking a MasterClass on The Art of Short Storytelling taught by INTERRUPTION Joyce Carol Oates. I had taken a few of these classes INTERRUPTION here and there, but this one had already become my favorite. In the INTERRUPTION first lesson, Joyce shared two of the most eye-opening phrases I had heard as a INTERRUPTION writer. INTERRUPTION The first INTERRUPTION, “You can't possibly work or create anything of worth if people are constantly INTERRUPTION interrupting you,” INTERRUPTION and the second, “Constant interruptions are the destruction of the imagination.” INTERRUPTION Those words could ring more INTERRUPTION more true at that time in my life. INTERRUPTION Let me tell you a little more about what I mean. Fkjhsfkjhkjfskjh!

Eleven Interruptions

Eleven interruptions. Eleven interruptions— physical and verbal— in just a few minutes of trying to type a single paragraph for my blog. That didn’t even include the background noise from multiple screens or the endless notifications and spam calls blowing up my phone.

This wasn’t a creative piece I was pouring my heart and soul into. It wasn’t anything especially profound. Just a small thought I wanted to share. But the sheer number of interruptions that stood in my way made me wonder: How was I supposed to write anything worth reading under those conditions?

What Interruptions Really Cost

Those eleven interruptions looked like this: questions that couldn’t wait, fights that needed breaking up, snack requests, complaints over toys, and being climbed on or pulled away by my toddler for a variety of urgent needs.

Worst of all, when I looked back at the little I had managed to write, it was garbage. Nothing. And my mind wasn’t in any space to make it better.

If I had given myself the time to sit down alone, with little to no interruptions, that post might have sounded very different. It might have been more thoughtful, more interesting, maybe even a little funny. It definitely would have included fewer frustrated rants.

Setting Boundaries to Reduce Interruptions.

Interruptions truly are killers of imagination and free-flowing thought, at least in my experience. But how do we reduce them? I did the obvious: muted my phone and computer notifications, put in earplugs, and used my Freewrite Traveler to avoid online distractions. However, the physical interruptions, the ones from my kids, fiancé, and pets, were the worst by far. So what was I supposed to do?

I talked to my fiancé first, asking for times during the week when I could strictly create and he could watch the kids. That didn't go well, and we ultimately separated years later for this and many, many other reasons (problem solved).

With my children, I had to set strict boundaries. I asked them to create a special sign to put by my desk, saying they had to wait unless it was an emergency. I set out snacks, allowed extra TV time, or offered special toys when I needed longer stretches to create. I bought a host of sensory things they could quietly play with in the same room if necessary. And I bribed with gummy worms. Worked very well for two of them.

But my oldest son was the hardest, the most stubborn, and the most likely to interrupt. So I had to get a little creative with him.

Ideas Are Like Animals

One day, when my oldest son was repeatedly interrupting a free writing session–asking for snacks and tattling on his brothers and wanting to chat about everything on his mind–I set down my pen and said Did you know ideas are like animals? He looked confused, as you probably do write now.

Now, anyone who knows my son knows he

loves animals more than anything else in his world. A child who feels genuine sadness reading about prehistoric mammals he will never get to meet. A child who can name not only the common name of an animal but also the scientific name, how long they existed, their family groups, their ancestors, etc.

I explained that my ideas, my stories, were important to me, as important as animals are to him. But every time I am interrupted while writing, the idea might die. Disappear forever. Just like animals that go extinct, the idea could vanish from my mind, never to be recovered.

He got a little teary. He apologized, purfusly. I got him a snack and asked for a little more time, and he agreed, clutching his favorite animal book as he tucked into the couch. Was that explanation a little morbid? Maybe. Was it effective? Absolutely.

A Final Plea

Long story short, if you’re lucky enough to live with a writer of your very own, and they tell you they need to write (or you happen to see them writing peacefully), you’d better leave that brain alone. We love you, we do. But our ideas and processes matter too.

Creatives need space to create and time to get it out and make sense of it. We don't need additional baggage or tasks to focus on. Unless someone is bleeding or dying or choking or the basement is filling up with water, chances are what you are about to come up and ask us can wait. So please let it wait. For your own safety.

Thank you in advance,

Disclaimer: This blog contains Amazon Affiliate links. As an Amazon Associate, I earn from qualifying purchases to help fund my dream of being a published author and poet. I love and appreciate you so much!

Big Magic by Elizabeth Gilbert

I won't go on too long about this book. Maybe I will write a separate blog. But this book really did change my perspective on what I was doing with both my day job and my creative projects. I highly recommend this to any poet, writer, or creative in a funk, or to anyone who needs a bit of motivation (or permission) to unleash their creativity.