What’s My Excuse?
“If you really want to do it, you do it. There are no excuses.”
“Only put off until tomorrow what you are willing to die having left undone.”
The imposter syndrome is real as I write these words. Here I am, unpublished and mostly unknown and I’m trying to share some advise on writing, but I’ve hit a block recently. So this is selfishly more for me than anyone else, but if this advice gleams your way and you can take something from it, I’ll consider it an additional success.
The block isn’t quite writer’s block. I have a story I’m currently working on, and have a really good idea on how it will shape up (aside from the ending, but I’m excited to be it’s first reader and see what makes sense as I lay out the track as it chugs along) but it’s hard to find make appropriate the time.
We are all given 24 hours in a day. Some of us need more sleep than others. Do I sleep too much? Probably. I’ve tried writing in the morning like too many productivity books recommend (see The 5AM Club by Robin Sharma) and it’s not like I was in a coma as I slept; I could do it, but I felt cranky and on edge the entire day (sorry again to my partner for those days where I was miserable to be around.)
And don’t get me started on the intestinal issues which only made me, usually someone described as a teddy bear in both demeanor and body type with a squishy middle, into a barking, frustrated beast on their way to the 4th trip to the bathroom that morning as the microbes in my gut protested this change in scheduled programming the only way they knew how.
Yes, this bear spent plenty of time in the woods doing...you know.
And the words? They didn’t flow either. Sure, I came up with some decent copy, but I kept starring at the little clock on my laptop or even worse…the one on my attention stealing brick we call the smartphone, because like most writers, I had a day job that paid the bills. I couldn’t and didn’t want to be late for that, so it was impossible to get into any sort of flow.
So, I threw that advice out the window, smothered it with my pillow, buried it in the yard, and pretty much forgot about it. Will I resurrect it in the future? Maybe, but as Jud Crandall said in Stephen King’s Pet Sematary, “Sometimes dead is better.”
One thing I’ve forgotten and relearned in this age of keeping up with the Joneses is that everyone is different. Some of us can work on 3 hours of sleep without needing any caffeine while some like yours truly are dragging as the summer rain falls and 7 hours minimum plus a cup of coffee is just enough to keep me functioning. We all have our own way of doing things, because it works for us.
What works for me? I’m still trying to figure that out. During NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) last November (2023), I wrote the minimum 50,000 words and even though the manuscript was far from perfect at that point and produced only 10% of material I was truly happy with, the biggest benefit was knowing what it took to write all that, and how to do it.
My process at that time:
Set a timer on something that didn’t display a countdown or time, also known as the electric fireplace downstairs.
Start at 7PM and end either at 8PM or 9PM depending on the timer and how much I wanted to get done.
Writing and not going back to revise. Just getting the rough draft down.
Phone facedown out of arms reach.
Music with minimal vocals. (specifically, music by Nicolas Snyder of Scavengers Reign, a show I really enjoyed. Specific album below.)
The lessons I learned, however, I did not take with me.
What I need to do:
Implement Deadlines: In NaNoWriMo, you have a month to write a novel or roughly 50,000 words. Left on my own to my own schedule, there is no hard deadline. Days become weeks where I don’t put words on paper. I think about my story often, but there’s no agency. But as I talked about in my last blog, we need to make the time.
Refine the process: Writing like that worked for me, but I’ve been trying to work in my home office which I thought would work better for me. I think back to Stephen King’s On Writing where he described his work space where he wrote “Carrie and Salem’s Lot in the laundry room of a doublewide trailer, pounding away on my wife’s portable Olivetti typewriter and balancing a child’s desk on my thighs.”
So what’s my excuse? I need stick to a place that works for me which seems to be the downstairs living area. When I do write, I’ve been documenting various factors to see if there is a correlation in anything. But so many other authors could write anywhere (see Stephen King). So, maybe it’s another factor…Find the difference between self-care and procrastination: Life can be stressful. But compared to other authors, I have it easy.
Stephen King, despite getting hit by a van, eventually got back up, and set his mind and body to writing.
And who could forget Irish author, Christy Brown, who was born with severe spastic Cerebral Palsy in the 1930s, and managed to find a way to paint and write with his left foot. Hence, My Left Foot which was was a hit and eventually was adapted into a movie. He would continue to write even more works until his death at 49 years old. What the hell is my excuse?Be Gentler On Myself: It’s easy for me to beat myself up over not writing. I’ve been doing it the last few paragraphs, but punching myself in the metaphorical face (worse…in my pride) is not going to help me put words on paper. Like a dog who peed on the carpet one too many times, it’s hard to help myself, and being scared only makes the piss come out faster. Instead, I need to understand sometimes isn’t the right time. Writers have lives because they are outside of just writing. We have relationships with family and friends, partners, work, chores, and other interests. If we didn’t have those things, we wouldn’t be that interesting. It’s one thing to read how a rose might smell, but it’s another thing to actually breathe in the rose, the sweetness of it, the touch of the petals that tickle our face, and share our unique experience to others. At the same time though…
Push My Comfort Zone: Burn out is real, and I’ve been there. Not to the point of ending up in the hospital, but the fatigue, eye twitching, headaches, and the malaise is distinct. Some writers have been there. But like exercising which intentionally tears muscle and builds it stronger, I need to keep building mine. Which brings me to…
Build Momentum: Start with a smaller goal that is easy to trip over and keep with it for a week (100 words a day…which is 100 more words than I’m currently doing on my novel). Then, 500 words a day (about half of my original goal). And finally, 1,000 words a day.
Will you write everyday?
I’ll try.
But that’s not good enough.
Well, neither is resenting the work. I need to ease myself into it and make it fun. And if I set the bar low, it’ll be hard to not do it. Here is my final task:Make it Fun and Put Other Things Away: I’ve heard if you make the writing fun, it’s impossible to not want to do it. Part of it might be something isn’t gelling in the story. Part of it is being impatient. Good things take time. And while playing video games is instantly more satisfying and an easy way to burn the 2 hours after work, it’s not fulfilling for me and my life. If it was, I wouldn’t be over 1,000 words into this blog post. Maybe I can gamify my writing process in my spreadsheet with a reward after big milestones. Like self-care and procrastination, there’s a balance where one path leads to burnout and another leads to lethargy.
One final thought:
Did you hear about the caveman painting that was squirted on with water? Someone wanted to take a better photo, so they sprayed the art with water.
If we could somehow interview that early homosapien that today and tell him/her/them that the art that they made was still there, they would be happy whether they thought it would be or not. And they didn’t do it for money (that we know of) but instead did it because they wanted to share their talents and story with their fellow people, sharing their experiences and leave something for the next one of their kind to come along. They weren’t worrying about getting published or making money (that we know of). Instead, they left this world with something wonderous in a place where we eventually rediscovered it long after it was created. It’s not the exact same as a manuscript or novel, but it took them time, effort, and a vision to see it through with time constraints like daylight (we take lightbulbs for granted.)
I should bring out my inner caveman, work with what I have (thankfully, it’s less mud…well I hope that’s mud, and berry juice compote and more of a pen, pencil, paper, and computer system), and produce what I want to share from the heart that at least I can enjoy and share with others someday.
I have no excuses left. If a caveman can make and enjoy art, why can’t I?