If there's one thing to be said for taking up the mantle of Nine to Fiver it's the happiness of routine. The only way I could possibly make it through the thesis was to impose a strict regime of work on myself to ensure I actually made it to the desk every day, and didn't get lured by the TV or other shiny delights.
The first three years were a hazard in that regard. There was always some new PC game that appealed to the inner child, or some event involving me, booze and prospective distractions. Mind you, those three years were also where I did the greater part of my field research, often by having to track down the elusive interview with government officials, agencies, or indigenous organisations. More often than not the only reason they'd talk to me was my categorical statements of 'not being a journalist', but an 'academic writer'.
Finally, when it came time to write the whole thing up I found myself struggling to maintain the discipline needed to work for extended periods. This all came to a head at a birthday party in 2001. Trying to impress a couple of young ladies at dinner, I again described myself as a 'writer'. Foolishly.
It turns out that the two young ladies in question were copy editors at a publishing house, and had formed the opinion that writers or authors were mostly nutters. Doing my best to dispel this stereotype I listened intently while they described their warning flags about what constituted said 'nutter'.
'Do you have to follow weird routines?'
'Do you always work exactly the same types of hours?' (for example only working midnight till dawn).
'Do you always wear exactly the same clothes to cut down time in the morning?'
The list continued, and in deference to any author out there who's reading this, I'll stop. No point having you all worried about the opinions of young ladies when you should be working.
Luckily, I used to sleep till I woke up naturally, wear whatever happened to be within reach when I crawled out of bed (sniff test pending), and pretty much make up the day as it went along. My only real routine was watching the midday news to break up the monotony of reading. But, their stereotypes were very interesting. In fact, so interesting that I tried them out.
By late 2001 I'd pretty much worked myself into a very predictable pattern. I realised that I did my best work in the still of the morning, so I'd set my radio alarm for 6.30 or 7am, haul my sorry ass out of the sack, and follow exactly the same routine of bathroom, kitchen, 'office', and would be awake and ready to work by 8 or 8.30 (after reading the newspapers online). It worked a treat, the thesis miraculously began to form before my eyes.
Even better, I became so efficient that I soon could dedicate the late afternoon to exercise or video games. Instead of ever watching TV I used to supplement my income by painting historical miniatures on commission and listening to the radio or CDs. Ah, the joys of unabashed nerdism.
Eventually, I had to quit the painting work for more predictable hours when the scholarship ran out, but I maintained the routine for the three years in the kitchen. It used to drive the flatmates nuts. Which leads me to think that maybe it wasn't the authors so much as the editors who had the issues. But, on the other hand, I used to get really grumpy if I couldn't follow my routine in order to get that damn thing written. Really grumpy. Almost toey.
And now? I find myself sitting in a big, air conditioned room hand-writing this blog because I don't have internet access. And getting paid for it. There's another temp over there reading a novel. Sooner or later the boss will hand me another bunch of files to deal with, and then at four I'll sign out, go home and sit in the super-chair till a flatmate makes me dinner (my cooking night is Wednesday). Then tomorrow I'll put on clothes almost identical to what I'm wearing now and do it all over again.
Bliss.