I have been having trouble eating, sleeping and blogging lately because I have been so focused on finishing my book (or, “book” really). I have toiled over my “book” and dreamed about the day I finally complete it for more years now than I care to admit. To keep myself on track, I gave myself an absolutely firm, drop-dead, non-negotiable deadline of the end of March to finish it. I recognize that this is similar to the absolutely firm, drop-dead, non-negotiable deadline of December 31, 2011, that I gave myself last year, except now I really mean it. Seriously. And if it’s not finished by the end of March, then definitely by the end of April. Or May. I’m going to have it done by the end of spring, for sure.
I want to blame work, my mortgage, reality television and other commitments for my lack of progress, but I know the problem lies with me. Sometimes, I just find it hard to write because I find it hard to connect with my myself. The problem with this is: there is no other way to write a book other than writing a book. I believe in discipline and a firm work ethic, in sitting down, focusing and getting the job done. It’s just that, for me, every time I sit down to write, in those precious snippets of time, my inner voice sits down with me, reading over my shoulder. And she’s a total bitch.
“Really?” she says, “You’re going to write that?”
“Who are you kidding? You can’t do this.”
“Everything you write is terrible.”
“You’ll never be a writer, never amount to anything. You’re an embarassment.”
“Why don’t you just give up now and cut your losses?”
“You should really reconsider the length of your hair.”
And: “You look like Rick Santorum in that sweater vest.”
And on and on and on until I am paralyzed with self-doubt. I will sit over my computer like a statute, hands in position on the keyboard, on the brink of self-actualization but never quite achieving it. There goes another day. There goes February.
I am always interested to know if other writers and artists are plagued with self-doubt, if they have an inner critic that sits on their shoulder like the Great Gazoo spewing venomous dumb-dumbs. A few summers back I had the honour of studying writing at the Humber School for Writers with Bruce Jay Friedman, a prolific and successful novelist, playwright, screenwriter and actor who did the New York deli circuit in the sixties with Mario Puzo and other writers who shaped an era. In his 80’s when he taught the class, Bruce still had his finger on the pulse of great writing and was spot on in his critiques. I remember, once, a fellow student asked him what he does when he feels a creative block, how he overcomes the unquiet mind, the uncertainty and the fear that cripples good writing.
The class grew quite. Leaning in closer to him we sat with pens poised ready to record his enlightened advice.
“What do you mean what do I do when I have writer’s block?” asked Bruce, confused, “I just write the next fucking line.”
His words spoke to me and to date have been the single best piece of advice I have ever recieved. They have been more invaluable than all the self-help books, the writing books, the writing workshops and the cognitive-behavioural therapy combined.
Should my inner critic peep up from behind my shoulder now, I try so hard now not to engage in philosophical debates with her. I try not to engage in her self-reflection and to wallow in the self-pity she leaves in her wake. I’ve realized that when I sit down to write, I don’t have to think about the end of my book, whether I will ever get there and whether it will say what I want it to say or whether it will be rejected. I don’t have to worry if I am ever going to make it as a writer, if I am going to fall short of my dream. I don’t need to book a haircut or think about what awful conservative I’m dressed like. All I have to do is write the next fucking line. That’s it.
Then, once I’m done that line, I’ll worry about the next.
Unfortunately I’m all too familiar with the above. I’m in it now as a matter of fact. The heaviness that accompanies the self doubt and stuck-ness renders me stupid and frozen in my chair. I know what I’m doing, which is even worse, but sometimes, I just can’t move! It’s almost as if I have to go through this down time in order to get up and going again. It goes in phases. If you can quiet the critic and just write the next fucking line, then it’s been a productive day. My heart goes out to you and in writing this post, you have written the next fucking line.
Thanks for the encouragement. So sorry to hear that you are stuck right now. And here I am thinking, if I could just write as well as the girlfriendmom, I would never have writer’s block or self-doubt again! We’ll just have to keep on keepin’ on together, I guess…
The wonderful and talented and apparently hugely insecure (and curly-haired) Ann Lamott paraphrases someone else (wonderful and talented I’m sure, although i can’t remember his name) who says that writing is a bit like driving home in a snowstorm in the middle of the night with weak headlights. You can only ever see a few feet in front of you at a time, but you can make the whole journey that way.
Writing is pain…but its encouraging to know that you really do only need to see a few feet (or one sentence) in front of you at a time.
Also, your beautiful writing Wendy gives the rest of us such pleasure that you can tell that inner-voice bitch to shut her face or we’ll all come after her for slowing you down.
I love that analogy Maya. Thank you so much for passing it along. I will try and focus more on the driving and less on fixing the headlights. Thank you, as always, for having my back even when it’s up against myself!
Oh, I have SO been there! That’s the trouble with creating something. We have such doubts in our ability to . . . well . . . create. (Why do I think I could do this? Everyone else in the world could do it better than me.) And so on. But remember one thing. You are absolutely unique. No on. NO ONE is quite like you. Has your insights and perspective. Your particular abilities. Your experiences. They make a unique blend that is purely, completely you. So no one can write your book but you. And you can do it. I’ve seen your writing. You are fantastic! Keep it up. And tell that bitch on your shoulder that you need an errand run – in Timbuktu – and send her on it. Good luck. Looking forward to seeing your name on the NYT Bestseller list!
Diane you are an endless source of strength and encouragement and I don’t know what I would do without you! I shared your insight with some people I write with today, that no one has a voice quite like you, and everyone ooooed and awwed at your brilliance. I look forward to seeing your self-help book on the NYT Bestseller list.
1. A writer is somebody for whom writing is more difficult than it is for other people.
Thomas Mann
2. I write when I’m inspired, and I see to it that I’m inspired at 9:00 every morning.
Peter DeVries
3. You have an advantage. I grew up using a typewriter. On a typewriter, you really want to get it right the first time since you damn well don’t want to retype the page. On a computer, you can throw words on the screen and keep reshaping them until they’re as close to ideal as you can mold them. This is assuredly still a painful process, but less paralyzing. And before that, people wrote with quill pens. I.E., it could be worse.
Dee Doubleyou
Good luck on the 3/31/12 deadline!
Thanks Dee Doubleyou. The inspiration quote has been up at the writer’s centre I work at and I always find it, well, inspiring. I find the abillity to edit so easily, though, to be a blessing and a curse. Given my terrible penmanship, I am happy that the quill pen has fallen by the wayside. Definitely something to be thankful for!
Not that I’m an authority or anything, but how about telling that inner voice to shut the fuck up. Then say something nice to yourself and get on with your day.
Sounds pretty authoritative to me Pamela! I like it and will from now on only respond to my inner voice with words that can’t be said on television.
When you were describing the person over your shoulder, I also thought of the Great Gazoo! When I get writer’s block, I step away for a few minutes then come back to it. Trouble is I always get inspiration when I’m driving, in the shower, anywhere, where no pen is available!
Lisa Weinstein
Feel free to visit me, http://www.lisagradessweinstein.blogspot.com
Me too! I do my best writing in the shower. Apparently Aaron Sorkin does too. I remember reading an article once that said he literally showers off writer’s block, sometimes taking upwards of 8 showers a day when he’s working on something. I was so happy to read that, as if this might be the key to writing success (though I think mine and Sorkin’s similarities unfortunately stop there!)
Can’t wait to check out your blog!