The simple joys of dishwashing

This evening, after a good dinner, I did the dishes and came upstairs to find this story on Slate: Barack Obama's life will be somewhat normal for exactly 64 more days. So why not wash the dishes? Excerpt:

In Barack Obama's first interview since winning the election, he made an odd but revealing confession: He found it soothing, he said, to do the dishes.

I know exactly what he was talking about. For a writer, that kind of mundane chore is absolutely essential.

By dumb luck, I've managed to live a life in which nothing much has happened. I had the same job, college teaching, for 40 years. I've lived in the same nice house for 36 years, where our two girls grew up.

My wife's a wonderful cook, and I'm happy to clean up. When the kids were young, we'd all have dinner together; then everyone left the kitchen and I stayed to do the dishes.

In that time I could daydream, think about tomorrow's classes, and wonder about the current or future novel. And I discovered that nothing frees the mind like putting the body to some kind of automatic work.

It works on all levels. Sometimes I'd get an idea for a whole novel or nonfiction book. Sometimes, with a book in progress, I could focus on what ought to happen in the next chapter. It got to be a running gag: If I was having plot problems, we needed to invite people over for dinner so I'd have more dishes to wash.

It doesn't have to be dishes. Mowing the grass is good, and so are shaving and vacuuming. Walking our black Lab one night many years ago, I wondered what my neighbourhood would look like ten million years from now. That led to Eyas, the book I still consider my best.

That beloved dog is long gone, but I still walk his successors, two beautiful Australian shepherds, and I think about books in progress and books that I might someday write. Then I come home and accomplish work that I'd never have even imagined if the dogs hadn't dragged me out in the pouring rain.

Some years ago my wife insisted on buying a dishwasher. I could see the artistic crisis that meant, but you can't put a cast-iron skillet in a dishwasher. Some chores, thank heaven, will always be boring, robotic manual tasks. I hope I can perform them for many more years.

And I hope President Obama gets some dishwashing time as well. It could give him the ideas that will save us all.

Comments

[Jea]

"In that time I could daydream ... and wonder about the current or future novel."

Btw, what happened to Henderson, the novel whose progress you were reporting on at some point?
It was interesting.

J

[Crof]

I still think about Henderson every time I do the dishes and walk the dogs!

Sent a sample and outline to an agent a couple of months ago, and got rejected. Not a big deal. At some point I'll find the time to finish it, and maybe even publish it myself.

Until then, I'm busy with nonfiction (http://crofsblogs.typepad.com/pioneers/ ) and journalism (http://thetyee.ca ).

[Cindy]

ann tyler says she gets some of her best ideas vacuuming!

[Myric]

I'm the same - doing dishes or folding clothes is prime time to think about things. And I love asking my dog about problems I'm having with my stories while we're out for a walk. His "insight" is often invaluable, and many times I can't wait to get back in front of the computer to work on the things he and I "discussed" whilst out and about.