In
her memoir, Didion writes how her rational mind came up with rituals
and superstitions and magical ideas to fend off going insane from the
uncontrollable pain of grief.
Many writers resort to magical thinking when faced with pain in their book-writing journey.
This
magical thinking surfaces whenever we feel overwhelmed by our own
goals and expectations. Instead of adjusting the plan or goal, we
malign ourselves as bad writers. If you don't believe me, recall your
last diet or exercise plan. Maybe you followed it perfectly for weeks.
Then a crisis at home caused you to skip your workout or eat ice cream
from the container.
"I've
blown it big time, might as well stop," you tell yourself. And you
stop. When the blocked day, week, or month leads to "I'm never going to
get the momentum back, and I might as well stop now," this is also an
alarm sounding.
Remind yourself that it's unrealistic to blame yourself that way.
Unless everything is absolutely perfect, you're not going to be able to
write your book? Not true. A functional writing life is about adjusting
and accommodating, making changes as we go. It's not an all-or-nothing
lifestyle.
A
writer who successfully finishes a book expects and allows for the
unexpected: getting a winter cold, kids home from school, the dog
throwing up on a manuscript, computer glitches, frustrating delays in
research.
Five Ways to Stop All-or-Nothing Thinking
These five simple steps work well to create balance, to overcome or outwit writer's block.
1. Embrace Creative Multi-tasking
Multi-tasking
has gotten a pretty bad rap. Legions of burnt-out high achievers of the
eighties and nineties lived on the adrenaline high of multi-tasking and
it will certainly wear out anyone if it becomes a habit.
But
I discovered it brings welcome stimulation and perspective and lets me
avoid the all-or-nothing syndrome. I just train myself to jump subjects.
I
learned this in one of my painting classes, when I was struggling with a
still life I wanted to kill. Nothing was working; everyone else in the
class seemed to be doing beautifully. I happened to be standing next to
an empty easel, so I moved my still-life-in-progress to it and started a
new painting.
When
I took a break, the abandoned still life caught my eye. Suddenly,
because I hadn't been glaring at it for hours, I saw what it needed.
I
spent the rest of the class toggling between them and produced two good
pieces. When I paint at home now, I often set up two canvases at once.
My two easels, side by side, let me get unstuck. I switch often. When I
come back to the other canvas, the break has refreshed my eye. I see
with new enthusiasm the subject that bored or frustrated me minutes
before. I now do this with my writing.
I
open two documents on my computer and toggle back and forth. While my
mind's solving one problem, an idea comes for the other piece. Toggling
from a freewrite to a revision keeps me engaged, surprisingly alert, and
free of magical thinking.
2. Flex Your Routine
Writers
who completely avoid structuring their writing time often never
complete their books. There's a deep fear of routine in many creative
artists.
No
one stays the same throughout the long process of writing a book.
Assume you are going to change as a writer. Make your writing structure
flexible enough to change as you do.
When
I first began writing seriously, routine caused me great anxiety
because I thought I had to stick with plans. I thought routine was
terribly uncreative-what if an intriguing detour emerged? Could I
follow it and still produce a finished piece of writing? Now I know
detours are often helpful, but only within a dependable routine to
reorient me when I need to remember my original purpose for writing.
I
now hold a loose structure around each writing session, showing up for
my planned time, producing pages, reviewing my goals. I'm now willing
to stay committed, but also willing to vary my routine.
3. Use Your Life
A New Yorker
cartoon shows a man sitting on a screened porch in front of a
typewriter. Crumpled pages litter the floor. Everywhere are dogs--big
dogs, tiny dogs, panting dogs, sleeping dogs. The writer's wife stands
in the doorway to the screened porch, hands on hips, exasperated at her
obviously blocked spouse.
"Write about dogs!" she tells him.
What's
on your plate? What are you grappling with right now in your life?
Maybe you can use it to unlock the block, get you back on the page.
Writing about the ordinary, the life in front of you, will help you
reconnect to yourself, restore inner balance, and get you back to your
book.
4. Force Yourself to Have New Experiences
The
opposite of fear of routine is obsession with it. If we're not writing,
the job is to write regularly. If we are writing about the same stuff,
we could be caught in a rut. Too much repetition can lead to creative
blocks.
If
this happens, you need to (1) recognize it, and (2) force yourself to
go out into the world so you have something new to write about.
When
I am repeating myself, it may be that the well has run dry. Or life has
become too fast to look deeply. I'm living on the surface without time
to think, to find the original in myself.
Julia Cameron's The Artist's Way
suggests a choosing brand-new place to go for an hour, solo. Use the
time to fill the creative well, open yourself to new experiences, expose
your senses to something that nurtures in a new way.
Cameron
spoke of how regular creative outings were the hardest task she
proposed in her book. People loved writing morning pages, doing the
other activities, but resisted these dates with their inner artist.
Exposing yourself to something completely out of your normal life or to
your own inner life-without the speed of distracting activity-can be
frightening, but things held at bay suddenly come forward. In a good
way.
Some outings to consider: visit a new museum, take a walk in a never-explored neighborhood, go for a hike.
5. Keep Filling Your Well
The
writing life requires intimacy with your own self. Intimacy is about
getting close and letting go of what stands between you and your
subject.
If
your writing feels repetitive or dried up, if you aren't writing
regularly, consider the level of intimacy you have with your book topic.
Are you bored with it? Is it connected with your life?
Consider filling your well.
I polled published authors: how did they fill the well? Many suggested activities fostering internal slowness.
Your Weekly Writing Exercise
1. For thirty minutes or so, write about your personal life in each of the areas below. Consider your minimum requirements to feel happy, balanced, and healthy. How are you doing in each area? Add any others that are essential to your well-being.
physical (getting enough sleep, regular exercise, eating good food, keeping healthy)
emotional (time for relationships with your family and friends, enough self-care, enough private time)
job/finances/career (meeting your work commitments, bringing in enough money, keeping up with your savings goals)
creative life (learning and growing, exploring creatively, staying current with your interests)
spiritual (practicing your faith, having enough private time with yourself, serving in your community)
2. Take
twenty minutes to explore what you need to have in your life, to get
your book written.
privacy
time
feedback
supplies
resources
good, working equipment
flexible schedule
3. Compare the two lists. Does one neglected area on the life list also show up in the writing list? For example, no privacy?
4. Starting small, choose one area from the life list and one from the writing list that could improve.
5. This week, begin one small change.
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