“You seem to really like writing,” my friend Matt said to me recently. “So many of us, we want to write, but we also hate it.”
It surprised me, because he was right. After years of burnout, I made a very conscious decision to re-capture my love of writing and write from a position of fun. Some of this process is documented in past blog posts: When it’s fun, Why it isn’t fun anymore, Eight Ways to Make Writing Fun.
I know that feeling of not wanting to write; wanting the words to be done, already. Writing is work. It feels like work. Yet, we become writers because it starts out as fun, as play. I played at being a writer as a child, and having become one, I can look back with longing to effortless joy of early play. For a long time, it was a sorrowful feeling, that longing, but over time, it appears I turned that around. Thanks, Matt, for showing me I’ve succeeded at something I set out to do.
So how did I re-capture that joy?
1: Suffering Comes From Wanting
Buddhism got this one right, for sure. We are unhappy because we desire something.
Wanting it to be done, already. Wanting awards. Wanting recognition. Wanting to be more clever than you are, or more artful, or more mesmerizing.
You have to let go of these goals, especially the goals you can’t control. You have to NOT WANT. That’s… not easy.
Here are some exercises to drop the wanting:
Write NOW – focus on this moment, just what’s in this room. Be boring if you want.
Star Wars was on to something: the dark side is easier, faster, more seductive. Write viciously – let’s describe that person we hate. Pull an Emperor Palpatine and give in to the hate.
Want nothing more than what you are doing. If you catch yourself wanting, acknowledge the want, and put a pin in it. “I’m not planning my fabulous career now; I’m writing. Think about that later.”
Sometimes just making a note of the desire will help you move it off your plate.
2: With Greater Knowledge Comes Greater Self-Criticism
When you’re starting out, you have no cares for the final product. You’re playing. It’s amazing to see a page full of words and think, “This is exactly like Isaac Asimov.” Because a written page is a written page.
My first writings were all terrible, full of stereotypes and put-down humor and things I’d stolen from Saturday morning cartoons. It was what was in my little baby brain at the time and it all went on the page.
Then… I started seeking critique.
I learned that I was using stereotypes and put-down humor I’d gotten from cartoons. Ouch.
It was harder to write with these new constraints: “Don’t use stereotypes” and “Don’t use put-down humor.”
I had to train myself out of bad habits, and training is work. Just like lifting weights.
Repeat this for each new writing skill learned. I had to learn to stay in a single point of view, to use tenses correctly, to plot, to structure… each one had a requisite time of struggle to get it right.
So, how do we turn off the self-criticism machine?
My friend Mary said she hung a sign over her desk that read “It’s only a rough draft.”
Open a new file, title it “secret private version no one will read” or something like that.
Write something completely self-indulgent. Fanfiction of your own work, maybe.
Write luxuriously. Want to use big fat words? Sentences with five sub-clauses? Knock yourself out!
I’ve written some things so self-indulgent I used dates instead of titles for the files because I didn’t want anyone to want to read them if somehow they got a hold of my laptop. I saved them in a special folder titled “productivity reports” that I don’t back up.
If you feel yourself aware of that future reader breathing down your neck or looking over your shoulder, find a way to lock them out. This draft is not for them. Loosen the constraints. Anything can be changed in draft two. Or three. Or twelve!
No one has to know.
3: It’s not fun writing what you “should” so don’t
Related to the self-criticism. I often found myself saying, “I can’t write that, it’s been done” or “I can’t write that, it’s trite.” or “I can’t write that, no one likes that kind of story anymore.” or “I can’t write that, everyone will know I’m horny for orcs.”
Sound familiar?
The urge to write, the inspiration is so rare and beautiful–why throw that away?
Look: whatever you decided to write, it was what you decided to write. So what if it’s trite or overdone or reveals an uncomfortably accurate picture of your personal obsessions?
- “Been done” plots appear on best seller lists every other day. Why let those other guys have all the fun?
- Stories are not their tropes. Think about it. Is “Project Hail Mary” the same as “Arrival” or “Armageddon”? No! Even if people have read this type of story before, they haven’t read YOUR version
- Readers may just share your obsessions. Have the bravery to give that to them.
- I’ve written over a hundred stories where a handsome, strong man is strangely vulnerable and needs a woman to rescue him and no one has commented on it yet, so I think personal obsessions are not as obvious as they feel to the author.
Here’s an exercise:
Give yourself five minutes to write a list of things you love to write about.
Flip the paper, and give yourself five minutes to write a list of things you love to read about.
Compare the lists. What’s on both of them? Write THAT.
When I’m feeling like a story has stopped being fun, I go back to what I enjoy writing, and bam! I add it. Did this story NEED sassy dialog and a chase scene? Well, too bad, now it has it, and I’m happier.
4. Write Badly on Purpose
This is a technique I use when I’m stuck on drafting, and I do it a lot these days as I find myself more and more drafting on deadline.
I write BAD, on purpose. Super bad. Worse than you’re imagining. No, worse than that. Stuff like:
The good guy escaped, somehow, and then looked back at their friend and said, “Wow, that was easy.” Except it wasn’t so easy, because then there’s a complication of some kind, and they end up in the jail cell scene I want to write.
It not only gets the bare bones of plot on paper, the silliness of it can banish a bad mood. Then, I can go back and make it slightly less bad, replace one generic description with one specific one, replace one sentence with a paragraph of action, and slowly work this crap into not-crap.
What could you write if you let go of all the internal critics?
5. Happy Writing is Better Writing
If you’ve been reading along thinking, “Yeah, but, I can’t do THAT, my quality will suffer!” Relax.
The stories I have thought the least about writing, that I’ve dashed off for fun, are often the ones that sell quickly, and I think there’s a reason. When I’m enjoying the process of writing, my prose is quirkier, more “me.”
In a time when we’re facing the scourge of computer-churned prose, embrace the individual, the unique. It’s beautiful because it is you. And if it doesn’t sell, at least you weren’t miserable while crafting it!
I hope this helps.
