I’ve always wished I had that ability to compartmentalize that most men seem to have received at birth. Not sure what I mean? Try talking to a guy while he’s watching sports on TV. He can tune it all out of his mind, even the fact that you’re there. I’m not remotely like that. I take in every little thing that’s happening in my external environment, and every little noise disrupts my concentration. It’s hard enough for me to do routine work in the midst of distractions, but when I try to be creative, forget it.
It’s almost, but not quite, humorous how noisy it becomes in our apartment whenever I sit down to write. No matter what time or day it is, when I’m at home alone, a magnetic field seems to pull all construction workers within a 15-mile radius to our place. It is the thorn in my flesh. While we’ve lived in our apartment, our landlady has renovated her kitchen, replaced her floors, torn down walls, and replaced front and back decks. Did I mention that she lives above us? When she starts to renovate her bathrooms, I’ve told Steve it’s time to go.
Immediately once I’m inspired with a sentence, the maids’ vacuum starts above my head or the gardeners’ leaf blower (my least favorite invention) outside my window. I guess we had a hint of what might come shortly after we moved in and our front wall had to be ripped out. Clear saran wrap is all that separated us from the outside world for six weeks. (OK, it was a little heavier than saran wrap, but it was clear plastic.)
I’m still amazed that somehow God gave me the ability to get a whole book written from our apartment, without removing the racket. While I would have loved to seclude myself in a peaceful writer’s cabin in the mountains, He kept me motivated and focused on the goal, proving that the universal truth of We Wait You really is true. When God calls you to do something, He will provide what you need in order to bring it to pass. He sure did it for me.