Category: Writing Advice

A writer needs to write to be a writer, right? The obvious answer is “yes” but, as I’ve pointed out in a previous post, we don’t all have endless hours each day to dedicate to writing. Unfortunately, the average writer’s life involves much more than the pursuit of word counts, and yet we encounter all of these success stories in which writers claim to produce 20+ pages each day. Who can keep up with that sort of volume? More importantly, should all writers aim that high?

I read an interesting article on this matter on the website for Author magazine. In it, James Thayer outlines different examples of successful writers, some of whom compose(d) ridiculous amounts of pages each work day, others who are/were about as slow as a tortoise, and still others who fall/fell somewhere in between. Thayer points out that Ezra Pound produced eight books and a hundred magazine articles in just six years, Stephen King writes about 2,000 words a day, and that it took J.R.R. Tolkien eleven years to write The Lord of the Rings trilogy (which, at the time, was one long book).

Clearly, every writer works at his/her own pace. But how do you decide your own pace? Slow and steady like Tolkien, frenzied and frightening like Pound, or some middle ground like King?

In truth, no one can solve that riddle for you. Ask a hundred writers and you’ll get a hundred different answers. Ask people who don’t write? You can forget about that right now; they aren’t familiar enough with the process and certainly aren’t familiar enough with your process to help you make a decision.

For some writers, it may be best to not set a word or page goal at all. Some people don’t operate well under pressure while others need it to thrive. If you don’t do well with pressure–think back to timed tests in compulsory school–then you shouldn’t even bother setting that sort of goal. It may sound counterproductive and lazy, but sometimes a deadline or threshold isn’t needed.

If you do work better  under some pressure and want to set yourself a goal, pay attention to how quickly you write. How many words or pages can you crank out in an hour? Two? An entire afternoon? Once you’ve figured out your pace, match it with the average amount of free time you can make in your schedule each day. Your rate multiplied by that time will get you your ideal goal.

You can even change your goal depending on the day of the week or the season. New commitments pop up all the time, making it unrealistic to try and maintain a constant writing schedule 365 days a year. Most people say a consistent schedule forms a habit, which in turn makes it easier for you to ensure you write each day. We all know that life doesn’t let much go as planned, so you have to be flexible.

While swimming through the sea of word counts and deadlines, don’t lose track of why you started this process: for the love of writing. Writing, like life, is full of trial-and-error. You can’t be too upset if you don’t make your goal a few days or you don’t write that bestseller in three months. It takes a while to learn your process; I’m still learning the best methods for my writing. Be patient and, while you shouldn’t let yourself get away with too much, cut yourself some slack every now and then.

 

About a month ago, I wrote a post on a writing quote from Anne Rice. Rice’s quote encourages writers to go where the pain is, where the pleasure is, wherever your passion is when writing. I believe this to be sound advice. However, I’ve found it hard to follow. In particular, I have a hard time going where the pain is. Opening wounds does not come easily to me, and my struggles make me wonder: are some wounds not meant to be opened, even for fiction?

I’ve sincerely tried opening wounds for my writing. I know that there’s a rich vein of emotional material there, but something keeps blocking me. Whenever I attempt to immerse myself in these pains and sensitivities, I hit a brick wall. It feels as though something clamps down on my skull and an unbreakable window stands between my writing self and those emotions.

Don’t get me wrong, my negative emotions and experiences do often slip into my writing. It’s when I consciously write those emotions, when I try directly opening wounds, that I can’t access them.

Ray Bradbury once said that thinking is the death of creativity. Is that the case here? It certainly doesn’t help. When we overthink the pain we’re trying to access, we fear revisiting it. At least I do. Self-preservation dictates we avoid that which causes us pain. If memories and emotions cause pain, our minds and bodies will do all they can to avoid those wounds.

Does that mean we should avoid opening wounds? Are some scars too fresh or deep to touch, or should we push past the avoidance reflex for the sake of good writing? Do we just need to stop overthinking it?

My answer is a firm maybe.

Really, the memories and emotions we want to avoid make our writing rich and real. If we’re so deeply affected by them, our readers will be, too. Still, we have to take our mental well-being into account. If we have severe mental and/or physical reactions to opening wounds, those wounds may not be ready to pick at yet. Someday we might be ready but, at the moment, we’re not.

Sometimes writing can help us work through our emotions, like therapy. Sometimes we need to forget that other people might read the work to let the emotions seep through uncensored. Many times, we need to abandon the idea of directly accessing emotions and memories and let our subconscious write for us. We may not get what we originally set out to do, but we’ll at least have solid material to work with.

Emotions are the, to state the obvious, the heart of writing. Anything written without them turns out like crud. That’s why we can’t let ourselves shut out our personal selves while we’re writing. We may not react the same way as a character should or we may blather on in order to work through raw emotions, but those problems are best ironed out when rewriting. The initial writing phase is all about getting words onto paper; we need to let our id speak then and give our ego and super ego the stage later.

Do you have a hard time writing about painful emotions or personal pain? Have you found a way to push past that brick wall? Leave your thoughts in the comments below.

If you like this post, be sure to sign up for e-mail notifications of new content and our newsletter, The Scrapbook, through the links provided in the menu.

 

Earlier today, I read an article from The Writer about creating DIY writing retreats, whether at a friend’s house or at a home rented in Mexico. The author has many interesting ideas and makes many good points. The two most important she discuss, in my opinion, are the need for no distractions and the need to set your own definition of “productive”. However, most of the ideas in the article involve either you going away or the other people in your house going away. What if we simply can’t do that?

I’ve discussed finding the best place to write multiple times on this blog. Somehow, I can’t ever find the right place. I can’t afford to leave and, unlike the author of the aforementioned article, no one I know plans to leave town for too long anytime soon. Even if they were, at best I’d only be down the street from the chaos. I can’t send everyone else away, either; they have their own responsibilities to take care of here and they can’t walk away for more than a day or two without a lot of advanced planning. I get some writing done in those short bursts of freedom, but lately it hasn’t been enough.

I know a lot of writers have this issue. We have family, social obligations, work (we have to pay the bills somehow), pets, chores, the list goes on. I can hear the objections to this belly-aching already: if you’re a real writer, if writing is so important to you, you’ll make some sacrifices and find a way to fit it in.

I’m sorry but I need money, so I can’t pay to leave and I can’t close down shop (figuratively) for more than a week or two. It also doesn’t help that not everyone gets the hint to shut up when I say I’m working.

Well then, what’s the plan? How can we create DIY writing retreats when we can’t go away or send others away?

Desperate times call for desperate measures; it’s time for plan “barricade myself in my room (or spare room)”. It’s a bit obvious but often the obvious answer is the right one.

Locking yourself in a room within the house with your browser closed and phone turned off allows you to exist in a sort of vacuum almost free of all distractions. Of course, if you live in an area like mine, there’s still plenty of noises that you’ll have to block out. That’s where you’ll have to get creative. Play music you can write to, invest in noise-cancelling headphones, buy a cheap pair of disposable earplugs, whatever it takes. My personal favorite is playing a string of TV shows or movies I’ve watched a thousand times before; I can block that out a lot better than crowing roosters and people talking outside my door.

The fun part comes in personalizing your DIY writing retreats. Hang up posters and artwork you find inspiring; line bookshelves with your favorite books and works by writers you admire; a whiteboard, cork board, or sticky notes to jot ideas down; if you have a mini-fridge taking up space in the garage or storage, you could really make it a retreat. A mini-fridge stocked with essentials, a makeshift mailbox constructed from a cereal box slapped on the outside of the door, and a bed, cot, or sleeping bag and you’ll only need to leave for the bathroom.

Whether it’s for a few hours after work or a couple weeks, you can make your own retreat without anyone leaving the house. You just have to get creative and assertive. Insist that no one bother you, that someone else walk the dog and do the dishes. After all, people can’t tease you for being a writer who doesn’t write if they complain about what needs to be done in order for you to write.

What are your thoughts on writing retreats? Have any ideas for DIY writing retreats you’d like to share? Drop a line the comments below and help other writers find ways to solitude.