Creative Discipline?

The other day as I was at the library, about to check out All the King's Men because I haven't read it and it's a classic, I stumbled across a real find that was forlornly stranded on an empty shelf near the new arrivals. It's Michael Palin's diary from 1969 to 1979--my perfect read! Not only do I have a prurient interest in what even boring people have to say about their own lives, but Michael Palin is my idol. And since the period this volume covers includes the height of Monty Python, Robert Penn Warren got re-shelved for another time. He's not going anywhere.

I'm not too far into the diaries, but they've made quite the impact already. First, I was intrigued by the jacket notes saying that this is a remarkable collection because Michael talks as much about his children's first steps as he does about Python. What a man! What a dad! But as I get into it, I realize that this note must have been written by a man. Michael does talk about his children, and his pride is obvious and touching. But dammit, 90 percent of these writings, easily, are composed of details about the day-to-day of putting together the groundbreaking show. From a man's point of view--and probably a baby boomer man's--writing about your family 10 percent of the time must seem absolutely remarkable. What a man! What a dad!

I think about how I'm never really off the clock as a mom, and how Jeff and Fiona still call me up at work to solve family disputes--something we in my family would never have done to my dad--and I'm just not that impressed. In another example, I originally intended for this blog to be more about work, and how I'm escaping it in my head by writing at the office, but really, it's mostly about my family and the bit of life I have outside the office. So no awards for Python parenting. But big kudos to their wives, who apparently never saw them.

But what really does impress me is that a) he's still an extraordinarily sweet guy, especially for someone so famous, and b) he's extraordinarily disciplined. Now, he admits that he's never had to do the 9-5 in his entire life, and he shudders at the thought and the greyness of the life of those who must (thanks, Michael). Be that as it may, he writes of being at Terry Jones' house at 9:30 am to start writing for the show most days of the week. Now, if I could live by a schedule of my own devising, as long as I produced the goods, I'm pretty sure that no writing would be done before 9:30 PM. I'm just sayin'. Yet Michael and (some of) the boys could sit down and knock out brilliant comedy during the day, while the rest of us--me, for example--are struggling to write a story for our member magazine about our recent House of Delegates meeting. YAWN!

I can't imagine being creative on demand. I'm not spontaneously funny. Then again, no one ever said I was, I've never been expected to be, and I've never had to rely on it to feed my family.

Nevertheless, I'm impressed.

I'm also impressed by his personal discipline. He discovered he was addicted to nicotine, then he decided to stop smoking immediately, using the diary to serve as the outlet for whatever emotions or urges the nicotine used to soothe away. He still writes in his diary almost every day, in the morning before he gets up. I can't imagine this. I'm not human in the morning, so I can't imagine the insane, incoherent ramblings I might produce before coffee. It simply wouldn't be safe.

He mentions frequently running on Hampstead Heath. This in the 70s, when most people his age got their only exercise from lifting a bong to their mouths. And on his birthday, he decides to forgo his usual "breakfast discipline" by having bacon and eggs! Imagine! I consider myself a model of dietary restraint if I have only two desserts in one day.

I really admire this man. I'd like to be more like him. How the hell do I do that? Am I to accept that it's just a personality difference and that some of the world's greatest artists have been wildly undisciplined? Or have I always used that argument as an excuse not to get my act together?

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