A Few Short Minutes

By Diane Stark

Much may be done in those little shreds and patches of time which every day produces, and which most men throw away.

~Charles Caleb Colton

"So, what are your plans for today?" my husband, Eric, asked me when we returned home from church one Sunday.

"I have so much to do that I don't even know where to start," I said. "The sink is full of dishes, the laundry hampers are overflowing, and I need to bake cupcakes for the school bake sale. Oh, and one of the boys has a birthday party to go to this afternoon." I sighed and added, "Plus, I really need to get some writing done."

Eric nodded. "What time is the party?"

My eyes lit up. "Are you offering to take care of that one?"

"I was hoping to watch some football this afternoon, but I'm sure I can squeeze that in."

I thanked him, wishing I felt more optimistic about my chances of squeezing in some writing time. Lately, it seemed that everything else was squeezing out my time at the computer. It bothered me that I hadn't been writing very much, but I was a mom first and a writer second.

Eric made lunch while I threw a load of clothes into the washing machine. While we ate, our daughter Julia said, "Can we go out for ice cream tonight?"

Eric and I looked at one another and smiled. "Sure, that sounds good," he said. "We'll hit Baskin-Robbins tonight, but only if the Colts win."

"Daddy, stop teasing," she said. "I know we'll get ice cream even if your team loses."

Eric smiled. "You're right, but it's double scoops if they win."

An hour later, Eric had returned from birthday party drop-off and settled in front of his football game. I was still working in the kitchen, but I could feel my computer calling me. I sighed, knowing the odds of getting any writing time were slim. There was simply too much to do to sit down at the computer for any length of time.

From the kitchen, I could hear Julia pestering Eric about the ice cream.

"We'll go when the game is over, honey," he answered, not taking his eyes from the TV.

"But can't we just go now?"

"There's six minutes left in the game."

"Six minutes? What can happen in six minutes? Can't we just get the ice cream now?" she asked. "The Colts are winning by fourteen points. There's no way the other guys can catch up in just six minutes."

Eric sighed and shook his head. "Honey, a few short minutes can change everything."

I finished the dishes and plopped down on the couch beside Eric. "Are you done already?" he asked.

"No, but there's no point in starting anything else if we're going to be leaving soon."

Eric shrugged. "Six minutes in football time is like a half-hour in regular time. Get out your computer and see what happens."

I sighed. "I don't think I'll really accomplish anything, but I'll try." I fired up my computer and began working on a story I'd started several days before but hadn't had time to complete.

As I typed, I could hear Eric clapping and yelling at the TV. Then I heard Julia say, "Is it over, Daddy? Is it time to get the ice cream now?"

"Soon, Julia. There's two minutes left."

"Two minutes? Why can't we just leave now? The game is over anyway."

"This game is far from over. Just a few short minutes can change everything."

Eric's statement caught my attention. Of course, he was right. In football, two minutes can change the entire game. But his words were true about more than just sports.

I'd been at the computer for less than thirty minutes, but I'd managed to complete a solid first draft of my story.

Just those few short minutes had made a difference.

I thought about all the other little blocks of time in my life that I thought were too short to use. Now I realized they were too long to waste.

Not to beat a dead horse, but the football analogy really appealed to me. A touchdown is nothing more than getting the ball across the field, yard by precious yard. Sometimes it happens in one amazing, record-setting pass. Other times, it occurs more slowly — and more painfully, with the running back pounding out just a few yards at a time. Either way, seven points is seven points.

I realized my writing was the same way. Occasionally, fabulously, my stories get done in one long burst of inspiration. As a writer, there's nothing better than those precious hours when my muse visits and I have nothing more to do than enjoy the creative process. But since my family insists on eating and wearing clean clothes every day, those times are few and far between.

My life circumstances don't provide me with many big chunks of time to write. So I needed to use the small chunks productively.

And that's where my new motto came in: A few short minutes can change everything.

I bought one of those tiny netbook computers and left it on my kitchen counter. I began writing while I waited for water to boil and frozen pizzas to bake. It wasn't always super-productive, but I usually got a paragraph or two written. After a week or so, those little blocks of time would add up to a first draft.

It was a whole lot more than I would have had. I thought again about my football analogy. Sure, it's more exciting when the touchdown happens with a deep pass downfield, but the points add up the same, no matter how the team gets into the end zone.

Finally, minute by minute, word by word, I was writing. I was submitting my work and getting it accepted. It was my own personal end zone, and it felt nothing less than amazing. No matter how I got there.

A few short minutes were indeed changing everything.

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