Yesterday, I began talking about that reliable annual writer’s block-inducer, the winter blahs. Light-deprivation, overtaxed schedules, family demands, and constant invocations to be overtly jolly and spend lots of money leave many aspiring writers too blue — and too tired — to write. With the new year approaching fast (and with it, perhaps, the consciousness of another year’s having slipped by without landing that yearned-for agent and/or book contract), the temptation to say, “Oh, the heck with it — I’ll start writing again in January!” can become downright overwhelming.
Let’s talk today about fending off that state of mind, before any of us find ourselves glancing at our dust-laden manuscripts on Valentine’s Day, murmuring, “Will it REALLY make a difference if I don’t get back to the book until Groundhog Day?” or “Can’t I get away with not sending another set of queries until Easter?”
If you thought you were the only writer who ever thought like that, let me assure you, you’re not alone. I’ve known authors with lucrative three-book contracts in hand who still burrowed under the covers in the morning because they couldn’t imagine anyone paying to read anything they might conceivably write that day.
Listen: talent doesn’t just dry up. But motivation can.
Last time, I mentioned the possibility of refreshing writerly momentum by scheduling a writing retreat, a time when you can leave all of your everyday duties behind and just WRITE for a while. But realistically, absent a very generous gift-giver (hint, hint, Santa) or an independent income and a room of one’s own, for many writers, the very idea of arranging quotidian life to disappear for a month, week, or even a day seems like an impossible dream.
You’re a responsible person with obligations, after all, someone who is going to have to keep paying bills throughout this retreat. And let’s face it, other people’s demands and schedules would need to be disrupted. If you have kids, it may be hard even to imagine disappearing for as much as a week before they graduate from high school. If you have a demanding job, even the suggestion of being absent for a few days running may be enough to induce guffaws in your boss’ office.
So it probably behooves you to make the most of the work time you already have. If you have been able to find an hour or two per day for writing, or a few hours at a stretch each week, good for you! You need to make the most of every second – which in and of itself can be intimidating; if you waste your scarce writing time, you feel terrible.
(Which, incidentally, is why most writers are so sensitive to our kith and kin’s remarking that we seem to be sitting in front of our computers staring into space, rather than typing every instant. Reflection is necessary to our work, but it is genuinely difficult sometimes NOT to fall into a daydream.)
Here’s a strategy I find works well for editing clients writing everything from bone-dry dissertations to the Great American Novel. Like yesterday’s light bulb trick, it seems disappointingly simple at first, but I assure you, it works: play the same piece of music EVERY time you sit down to write.
Not just the same CD, mind you, but the same SONG.
The repetition may drive you crazy at first, but be consistent. Before long, your brain will come to associate that particular song with writing – which in turn will help you sink into your work more quickly. After a while, you can put on other music later in your writing sessions, as long as you always begin with the same song. Your brain will already be used to snapping immediately into creative mode.
I do the music-repetition thing myself, so I can give you first-hand assurance of its efficacy. For my most recent novel, I put on the same Cat Stevens CD (hey, I was writing about hippies) literally every time I sat down to write – and now that I have finished the book, I can’t hear THE WIND without moving instinctively toward my computer. And even now, I can’t hear more than a bar or two of Yaz’s UPSTAIRS AT ERIC’S without starting to think about my long-completed dissertation.
I tell you, it works, if you give it a chance. (So yes, Furtive Non-Denominational Gift-Giver: installing a small stereo system in a writer’s designated workspace WOULD be a delightful surprise. How clever of you.)
If you are a person who needs to write under conditions of complete silence, try lighting the same type of incense or scented candle seconds before turning on the computer. Always wear the same socks, or pull your hair into a specific type of ponytail. Do twenty-five jumping jacks immediately before sitting down to write, or lock the door and belly-dance for a few minutes.
It actually does not matter what your ritual is, as long as it is a sensual experience that occurs ONLY when you are writing – and is repeated EVERY time you sit down to write, so your body will come to recognize it as a signal that it’s creativity time.
Or you could institute a ritual in reverse, rewarding yourself for staying a set amount of time in front of your computer, even if you are feeling frustrated. Graham Greene, I’m told, forced himself to write 147 words prior to taking his first drink of the day.
While that may not sound like much — the preceding three paragraphs add up to 146 — don’t underestimate the value of cumulative endeavor: Mssr. Greene’s daily thirst added up to a very successful 30-year writing career.
It’s also helpful, when you find yourself avoiding writing, to take a good, hard look at your writing space: can you in fact concentrate there? Is there a way you could make it more comfortable — or more private? Or — and this is often the case with struggling writers — do you not have a dedicated space at all?
Yes, you CAN write in a crowded café at a table immediately adjacent to a bongo band while babysitting a hyperactive rhesus monkey. And Antonio Gramsci wrote a major work of political philosophy entirely on toilet paper while imprisoned in a small, dark cell.
But that doesn’t mean that either is an environment particularly conducive to long bursts of concentrated creative thought.
Frankly, I think the advent of the laptop, however laudable in itself, has resulted in a general lack of recognition that writers tend to be more productive if they have their own spaces in which to write. (Not that a laptop wouldn’t be a pretty great present for a writer, Furtive NDGG.) Or at least more space than is taken up by a standard-sized placemat.
Call me overly reliant upon symbolism, but a writer’s home that does not contain at least a few square feet of floor space set aside ONLY for writing has always struck me as more likely to induce writer’s block than one that does. Not to guarantee it, mind you — plenty of authors have typed up a storm in cramped spaces — just to be conducive to it. Just like a schedule too jam-packed to permit a few hours of quiet meditation at a stretch, not having space to write renders the likelihood of being able to take immediate advantage of an attack of inspiration considerably lower.
Hey, Furtive NDGG: what about converting a spare attic, bedroom, basement, or corner of the living room into a comfortable writing space as a present? How about improving an existing one to make it more ergonomically friendly to its user — good desk set-ups are definitely NOT one-size-fits-all — or a more cheerful place to be? (Remember: lighting, lighting, lighting.)
In smaller living situations, how difficult would it be to the necessary screen to create a private space for a writer? Or, if even that is spatially impossible, investing in a really good pair of noise-blocking headphones?
Seeing a pattern here, Santa?
What about you, writers? All too often, we writers assume that the only possible reasons for feeling stalled in our writing are problems within ourselves: lack of willpower, lack of commitment, an unwillingness or inability to restructure our lives in order to write (rather than fitting writing into already overcrowded lives), limited talent. Or just a book idea that’s not as good as it originally seemed.
While any or all of these can certainly stymie a writing project, it’s worth considering practical steps that may make the physical act of writing easier — and creating long-term habits that will encourage us when the words are not coming easily. Give it some thought.
And, of course, keep up the good work!
4 Replies to “What to give a writer for Christmas, Part II, or, making room for writing in your life”
While my remarks might be applicable to both this and the previous post, I’ll include them here as no one has yet commented on this particular one.
As I sit at the computer, it’s a cold, gray, and snowy day in Spokane. I’ve just come back from a meeting of the little critique group that I belong to. By the way, we went over the first chapter of my first story. I have picked up some ideas that may serve to put a final polish on it.
With that out of the way, I’ll try to address some of what Anne has mentioned in these last posts, especially as to how it relates (or doesn’t relate) to me.
Perhaps because I was born and lived in Fairbanks, Alaska until I was six, the long winter nights don’t really bother me. My present job is also an advantage, because I start early enough that I always go to work in the dark. I finish early enough that it is always day light when I come home.
I normally welcome a wet gloomy day as one in which I will have a chance to get something creative done. After all, if it’s miserable outside, I might as well work on the writing. During nicer times of the year, I certainly have no problem sitting and writing, but then I’m thinking that I should be mowing the yard, changing oil, or taking care of some other outside task. So if I’m at the keyboard and the sun is shining down, maybe I fill a little guilty that I’m not in the driveway working on a car.
As far as a place to write is concerned, that is not a problem. It may not be ideal, but it works for me. The biggest conflict is sharing the computer with my daughter. If I get right to it after work, there is some time available before she gets home from school.
I don’t know that I need special lighting or music to get into a creative mood. I do need to go through a “warm-up” routine once I am at the keyboard. That usually involves a check of e-mail and a perusal of certain websites…including Author! Author! Then and only then do I go to work on the writing. And if I should be tired or not in the mood from time to time, I’ve been know to open the chapter I’m working on, stare at it a while, and then close it and shut off the computer.
I actually do a lot of the initial creative process while I’m at work. A lot of my work is fairly monotonous, and I’ve found that I can think about my writing, even while performing the task at hand. Then it is a matter of coming home and putting down what I had thought of earlier.
I could probably go on and on about this, if I haven’t already. Therefore I’ll stop and give someone else a chance!
It’s always so interesting to me to hear how writers make the transition from regular time to writing time. (And I envy the winter light’s not bothering you, Dave.)
“If I’m at the keyboard and the sun is shining down, maybe I feel a little guilty that I’m not in the driveway working on a car” would make a pretty good first line for a novel, eh?
Great suggestions, Anne! I didn’t know that anyone else did some of this stuff. For instance, I too listen to the samg song(s) over and over during a writing session. I don’t pick a particular song for a work, but I do pick an individual song for each writing session, out of a stable of about 8-10 songs that are non-intrusive enough to work for this purpose.
I work from home for my day job, so by the time evening rolls around I am often sick of being in my home office. It’s a very comfortable office, but any chair gets a bit irritating after ten or eleven hours a day. So my writing always takes place in other comfortable spots around the house, always changing to keep things fresh. It helps my motivation a lot when I don’t feel like I’m going to be chained to one spot for three or four hours while I write. The way that I keep my consistency up, however, is by always using the same laptop and noise-cancelling headphones, which I don’t use for any purpose other than writing.
I suppose, as you say, there are lots of variations on how this sort of thing could work. I just thought I’d share mine!
I like the idea of moving around the house, Chris — I’ll have to try that.