This post made possible by three “quick” e-mail breaks
I meant to write my first post a long time ago. A long, long time ago. Like the first week of July. But, there were so many reasons-slash-excuses not to. At first, I’d just finished my thesis, and I was tired. Both my weary brain and my laptop’s overworked cooling system needed to take it easy. Then I went on vacation, and when I got back, I was too busy catching up on work. Then I had some freelance assignments to finish. And so on for the next two months—procrastination at its finest.
Even now, after the things on my official to-do-first list have all been checked off, I am still only writing this post because I forced myself to.
I am not one of those writers who “has” to write. I write because I make myself. Sure, I love it, kinda: writing helps me understand myself and other people, it gives me a voice and an audience, it takes me into pockets of the world I would never have explored otherwise. It makes the gears in my head start turning.
It also sucks. We all know this. As Dorothy Parker said, “I hate writing; I love having written.”
There’s the agonizing over finding the right subject, the right word, the ever-elusive balance of humor and depth. Right after I finally find a rhythm, I inevitably realize that I deserve a break, maybe one quick little e-mail check. Half an hour later, I’m caught up on e-mail, Facebook, Smitten Kitchen, Garfield Minus Garfield, and Apartment Therapy, and my cursor’s still blinking in the exact same spot.
When I’ve somehow got a complete draft, things are no easier. My revision process borders on obsessive. The structure is fussy, the tone is off, the anecdotes aren’t relatable enough. I need to do more research, then check my facts, then recheck them. I panic, knowing I’ve written in the entirely wrong direction. I start over. Soon I’ve got four versions of the same essay underway and I’m freaked out. Better check e-mail again. Just for a second. Anything to avoid slogging along.
In an interview in Willow Springs 66, Jess Walter talks about how he’s come to love the entire process of writing a novel:
“The emotions of writing a novel, the highs and lows, the ups and downs, the loathing for what you’ve written—I described it in my journal at one point as the diary of a man living on the ocean who has no idea what tides are. ‘Oh my God, the water’s going out! It’s a drought! Oh my God, the water’s coming in! It’s a flood!’ I couldn’t believe how seriously I took this. With every book I would say, ‘If this is not the worst thing ever written…I need to just throw this away and start from scratch.’ And then the next day, I would say, ‘I may be writing a new kind of literature here. There’s a very good chance that my grandchildren will have to study this book. I should put a little note in there for them.’ The grandiosity was stunning, and the lows were stunning, too….I’ve learned now that I love almost every part of that journey. I even love the self-loathing.”
I am jealous. I do not love my process. The inevitability of failure along the way only makes me avoid getting started for as long as I can. But Walter’s perspective gives me a bit of hope for the wiser, older writer I might someday be. Maybe I’ll count the abandoned subjects not as abandoned, but essays I’ll be ready to write later. Maybe I’ll recognize that my many drafts are just part of my process, and not evidence of failure.
Until then, here I’ll be, forcing myself to sit down, crack open my laptop, and keep on going. After one quick little e-mail break.
i, too, hate the process of writing. like, HATE it. but at least now i have finally figured out how to break into conversation with jess walter the next time he shows up at a party (instead of being struck dumb, per usual). i gotta know if there are magical incantations i can recite to help me get from “hate” to “embrace the grandiosity/lows of it all.”
I am so feeling you on this one….I love being a writer and I love the high of finishing a piece, even a bad piece, but I hate writing. I put it off, I make excuses, I tell myself that it’s not important enough to worry about and then…I worry about it, I obsess over it, and worst of all – I have sucking guilt about it. Even after I publish something, I will go back and edit it several times – sometimes days or weeks after the piece has been up. It’s a crazy thing we do – like Doctorow said, “Writing is a socially acceptable form of schizophrenia.”
What about when it’s going well? I know I hate the process when things aren’t flowing, but there are those magical spans of time when stories seem to flow out of me, from somewhere I can’t access on command. Those times keep me writing, even when writing is tooth-grinding agony, in the hope that it will happen again.
I so agree with what Jason, T, and Laura says. I too am a procrastinator and very good at beating myself up for having this personality flaw. I have to have a clean slate on my to-do list before I can sit down to write. When I finally hit the sweet spot, it’s way too late and I can’t keep my eyes open. Then I beat myself up for not sitting down to write earlier in the day. Then I go to bed and start the whole thing over again. I guess I should be happy that at least I have a process, even if it’s a sucky one.
Yeah, those moments, when things just effortlessly work, are part of what makes it all worth it. They tend not to stick in my mind as much as the teeth-grinding parts, though. What I usually hang onto is the finished piece. Knowing that the last essay (somehow, eventually) turned out okay is what motivates me to struggle through the next one.