How To Become a Writer
By Lisa Cron | December 11, 2014 |
photo by Robert Couse-Barker via Flickr
Change is hard, even good change. Learning to navigate change is why we’re wired for story in the first place. Even when we’re caught up in what we might think of as mere entertainment, under our conscious radar the story is mainlining inside info on how to deal with the changes that we can’t avoid, put off, or pretend aren’t really there. And so since the only constant is change, there will always be new stories, because stories will always have something to teach us. That’s why storytellers are the most powerful people on the planet.
But that power doesn’t come easily. I’m not talking about the power that comes from the story, the writing, or what you can do to become a better writer (you know, the thing I’m always going on and on about). Today I’m talking about something else: having the power to change your life in order to have a shot at writing anything powerful at all. Most of us try to avoid, put off, or pretend we don’t need to make any changes in order to write a book – but we do.
[pullquote]To become a writer, you have to give something up. Something time consuming. Something you care about, and that in all likelihood might have unsettling, ongoing ramifications once you let it go.[/pullquote]
And of all the changes large and small, there’s one that underlies them all, and without it nothing else matters much. What change is that? The willingness to pay the ultimate price in the most precious commodity we have: time. Sounds obvious, doesn’t it? But as with most things, while the general concept is crystal clear, the specifics – what you need to actually do – is not. Because to become a writer, you have to give something up. Something time consuming. Something you care about, and that in all likelihood might have unsettling, ongoing ramifications once you let it go.
This is a lesson I learned from my writing coach, Jennie Nash. She told me early on that if you want to be a writer, you have to take a good hard look at your life, find something you spend a lot of time doing, and give it up in order to free the time to write.
I didn’t believe her at first. Like most people, I thought I could find the time to write.
But with crazy busy as the new norm, who ever finds time laying around unused? Especially since all that great “time saving” technology they’ve been gleefully producing at warp speed has morphed into the biggest time suck ever. Did you answer all your email today? Tweet? Post something on Instagram? Pinterest? Check in on Facebook? Catch up on the blogs you read? Leave meaningful comments? Respond to the comments on your comments? Feed the dog? What dog? Uh oh.
[pullquote]Turns out mental energy is not something we can simply will ourselves to have. It’s biological.[/pullquote]
Point is, modern life is overwhelming enough. It doesn’t just gobble up your time, it saps your energy in the process. Which, as it turns out, is way more finite than we knew. Turns out mental energy is not something we can simply will ourselves to have. It’s biological. As Stanford Neuroscience Professor Robert Sapolsky says, “It turns out that the power part of “willpower” is no mere figure of speech. The brain is as real a blood-and-guts biological entity as . . . your blood and guts. The largest lesson is that who we are and what we do must always be considered in the context of the biology occurring inside us.”
Trouble is, we live in a society that doesn’t believe that for an instant, and loves to tell us we can do anything if we just set our mind to it. Learning that this is not true – that we do have limited resources – is very hard.
It’s much easier to embrace the notion that being a writer is something you can slip into your life by rearranging your schedule, or getting less sleep, or grabbing ten minutes here or there. And there are books that will advise you to do just that. In fact, I just randomly typed, “write a novel in ten minutes a day” into google to see what would come up, and guess what — there is a book with that exact title. Will those daily ten minute snippets add up to anything over the long haul? Probably not. Will there be a long haul, will you really shoehorn out ten minutes a day forever? Again, probably not. Not because you’re weak willed or lazy, but because all those things you’re doing already are taking up all your time, and carefully structured schedules do not take kindly to being messed with.
[pullquote]We live in a society that loves to tell us we can do anything if we just set our mind to it. Learning that this is not true – that we do have limited resources – is very hard.[/pullquote]
That’s why you have to be bold. You have to take a good hard look at your life and see what can go, even though it hurts. And maybe, just maybe, the unease we feel letting something go is a good thing. Maybe the lingering fear that we’ve made a mistake isn’t regret. Maybe it’s the point. Maybe it’s saying: You’ve given me up in order to get something done, so you damn well better give it your all. At the end of the day, isn’t that what having skin in the game is all about?
That idea is summed up best in the commencement speech that Shonda Rhimes gave at Dartmouth last year. When in college, her dream was to be the next Toni Morrison. Instead she went on to create a TV empire that includes Gray’s Anatomy and Scandal. She’s incredibly successful. She has a great family, great kids, an amazing career. Doesn’t sound like she had to give up anything, does it? And yet . . .
[pullquote]You have to be bold. You have to take a good hard look at your life and see what can go, even though it hurts.[/pullquote]
“People are constantly asking me, how do you do it all?
And I usually just smile and say like, “I’m really organized.” Or if I’m feeling slightly kindly, I say, “I have a lot of help.”
And those things are true. But they also are not true . . .
How do you do it all?
The answer is this: I don’t.
Whenever you see me somewhere succeeding in one area of my life, that almost certainly means I am failing in another . . . That is the tradeoff. That is the Faustian bargain one makes with the devil . . . You never feel a hundred percent OK; you never get your sea legs; you are always a little nauseous. Something is always lost.
Something is always missing.
And yet . . .”
And yet we keep at it, don’t we? We keep going, we keep striving, we keep working to make a difference. Which means that along the way we’ve had to give up lots of other things — things that we really wanted to do — in order to keep our eyes on the prize.
Which brings me to why I’m writing this post: I’m going to be taking a leave of absence from Writer Unboxed for the next four months, while I write my next book. Jennie made me. I’ll be back in May.
What about you? What have you given up in order to have the time to write? And how do you deal with those moments when it made you feel like you were failing in another area of your life?
Lisa Cron is the author of Wired for Story: The Writer’s Guide to Using Brain Science to Hook Readers From the Very First Sentence and Story Genius: How To Use Brain Science to Go Beyond Outlining and Write a Riveting Novel (Before You Waste 3 Years Writing 327 Pages That Go Nowhere). Her video tutorial, Writing Fundamentals: The Craft of Story, can be found at Lynda.com. Her TEDx talk, Wired for Story, opened Furman University’s 2014 TEDx conference, Stories: The Common Thread of Our Humanity. A frequent speaker at writers conferences, schools and universities, Lisa’s passion has always been story. She currently works as a story coach helping writers, nonprofits, educators and journalists wrangle the story they’re telling onto the page; contact her here.
Such a great post! And something I’ve been blindly grappling with myself lately. Thanks for making it so clear and for the free tip from your writing coach. I will miss reading your posts, they were definitely among my favorites. Good luck on your book!
Great post! I was just talking with a friend about this yesterday – something’s gotta give if you want to do “it” (write, start a business, etc). I think we do get sucked into the vortex of willing ourselves to do it – as though if we change our mind, it will happen.
Good luck writing and you have given me something to mull over today.
Lisa-
Enjoy your time “off”. You’ll be writing your new book, hooray, but also enjoying a new role in your life, I know. Double hooray.
Thanks so much for sharing that truth from Shonda Rhimes. I have three careers–four if you count family life–and like her I’ve found it impossible to give each of them 100%. That adds up to 300%, which is practical in mathematics but not life. Something always suffers.
Right now that something is my desk at my office, which currently looks normal for publishing (piles of paper) but is for me a mountain range of clutter. I can barely stand to look at it.
So how do I rationalize the time that writing takes? I do because what really matters is not a clean desk surface. No one will remember that, and no one else cares. it’s the advice I put on the page that makes a difference in this world.
You too, Lisa. Thanks for your outstanding posts this year. Looking forward to your return in May–and to seeing you a little closer to home in the meantime. Enjoy the holidays!
I woke up before dawn from a dream in which I had children. It took me a moment to come fully out of it, and to realize that I have no children, and likely never will. A temporary but profound sense of melancholy washed over me as I laid there.
Why am I revealing this in a WU comment? Because I’m guessing that people sometimes wonder about me. Those who start to get to know me see that I live in a beautiful place, that I married my soulmate, that I (mostly) do what I (mostly) love every day (whether it’s carpentry or writing). It becomes apparent, even to those who only know me online that I don’t have a “regular” day job.
I’m guessing that people wonder, “how’s he do it?” The answer is: something had to be sacrificed. I have writing time now because I surrendered over two decades of my adulthood to work. I’m talking- 70 hours/week, take calls most nights, get up at 4:30 am six days a week, no vacations for years-on-end – work. There was nothing else. Outside of career accomplishments, I recall almost nothing of my thirties. Except maybe accumulating “stuff.”
Long story, still longish – we reached a turning point. The “stuff” is mostly gone (or it’s 15 years old). Yes, I live in a beautiful place, with a beautiful wife. Yes, I have time to write. But there were, and are, sacrifices. We live simply, in a house that many would consider a tiny cottage. Please don’t misunderstand. I’m not whining. I’m grateful. But part of what this post is about is deciding what’s important to you. I’ve decided.
Thanks, Lisa, for the reminder. To appreciate what I have, and to continue to make the right choices.
Damn Vaughn. If I didn’t like you before, I’d certainly have no choice but to like you after this post. Thanks so much for opening yourself up in your response.
When I got serious about writing, about actually finishing something, I gave up a volunteer position as a docent at our zoo. I loved it. I loved teaching people about animals and conservation. I loved working hands-on with some incredible animals, including large birds of prey. I loved the friendships. But I realized one day that anyone who goes through the training can be a docent. But not everyone can write my novels. Only I can do that. I was a docent for six years. I’ve been writing seriously for going on three years and I’m starting to see the first hints of success on the horizon. I haven’t regretted giving up the docent gig. And now I find myself wishing there was another activity that could be so easily given up. Like my job. :)
Ah, yes. Time. Never enough to read, to work, to exercise, to stay in touch with the kids, take the pup for walks, scrape away the top layer of dust from the furniture, grocery shop, take the car in for inspection. Oh yeah, and write. None of those things are negotiable (well, maybe cleaning), so I guess watching Netflix will have to go.
Lisa–
As your posts always do, today’s serves wonderfully to stimulate thinking. For me, three reactions come in the dubious, lickety-split fashion of commenting on blog posts that deserve better.
1. Being busy always caused me to bring more and better concentration to my writing. With lots of other commitments and duties, I had to make the best possible use of the time I was able to steal for writing.
2. I’m retired now. I don’t have as much disposable income, but lots more disposable, discretionary time. Paradoxically, this condition is challenging. I have an enviable degree of time freedom, which demands more discipline from me as a writer, not less. That this discipline is all too often missing is evidenced by what I’m doing right now.
3. As you rightly say, stealing/borrowing/mortgaging time for writing always involves giving up something. The hard reality is that, at least for me, most of this sacrifice occurs at the expense of human relationships. Notwithstanding huckster books claiming to show how novels can be written in ten minutes a day, writing is solitary. It demands the selfish, self-centeredness of being alone, of not being available.
And this often turns out to be true even when I’m with others. All too often, preoccupation with a character, or a plot problem is occupying me when I’m with people who deserve my full attention. And more often than not, they know it. Just as bad is serving up boilerplate, generic chitchat and body language, meant to suggest I’m paying attention. Or, also hardly admirable, being very engaged and interested, but only because the person I’m with has suddenly struck me as a potentially rich source of “material.”
Lucky for me, though, I usually get a pass for such bad behavior. At least I hope so.
Such an enriching post Lisa. Thanks for reminding me of what I’ve given up to be a storyteller. Being a writer can feel self indulgent and thus, an illegitimate choice. Of course it’s not. It may be counter-cultural because there is no immediate payout, and maybe there’s never a payout, but it’s a legitimate choice and remembering that I’ve sacrificed something BIG to make time for storytelling helps to remind me of that fact.
I’ll miss your posts over the next months but am THRILLED that you’re working on sharing more of your knowledge with the rest of us :) Good luck and thank you!
This is probably the sanest, best, no-nonsense advice I’ve heard on the subject. One which I still struggle with (not for nothing is my blog called ‘Finding Time to Write’), but I need to grow up and take your words to heart. Thank you – just in time, I think!
I think you’re right, Lisa, and giving us notice that you’ll be away for four months to write your book points to the second half of your message–you have to give something up in order to fulfill a commitment you’ve made to write. Once upon a time I gave up an hour of sleep at 5:30 every Wednesday morning to write an “episode” of a novel about a vampire kitty-cat. It took 53 weeks. I learned that my creative “bladder” usually holds about 1000-1500 words, just about right for a commitment of an hour or an hour and a half. I’m a pantser, so that discovery journey every Wednesday morning became something to look forward to (most of the time; sometimes it was a total pain, but I stuck to it). Looking forward to seeing you back in May.
I am into week 13 of Jennie Nash’s Author Accelerator program and it has changed how I write remarkably, but I think a big part of this was my decision, at the onset, to really give a serious chunk of time to my project. I though it appropriate at the outset to give my weekend up for writing, but a few weeks in I enjoyed that so much that now I ave added Wednesday too. This means work suffers, but so be it. I get a holiday mid-week, a chance to do the work I love.
Ultimately, I am losing money to give my writing the time it deserves, but you know what? It’s working! When I’m a bit broke or when I have to turn down clients because I’m putting my writing first I feel perfectly fine because I known I am giving my all to the one thing I believe in most. Perhaps some might think I’m crazy, willing to live like this for a few years while I get a book together, but I like to compare this to doing a PhD, or an apprenticeship – where people often invest thousands of unpaid hours getting into a career they love.
What’s extra great, too: those three days don’t feel like work. Don’t get me wrong, writing is hard work, but at the same time for me it is a job where time doesn’t factor in. I could sit for hours with my story and my attention is on it and that’s wonderful. I enjoy those frequent times where I stare off into nothing, contemplating plot and character, returning to planet earth when the next piece of the puzzle has come to me. And I wouldn’t be able to do any of this if I was squeezing in 20-30 mins a day in my coffee break.
A great post on the need for sacrifice. I believe there’s only one guarantee with writing: only the guarantee that you get out what you put in.
Thanks for a wonderful post, Lisa, and many best wishes for the new book you’re working on. This post hit a nerve because we sacrificed having more children so that I could stay home and write. And now, my husband and I mourn the loss of children we’ve never even conceived. Some regrets run too deep because they cannot be undone. So now, I’m grateful for the two teenagers we have (they are amazing to be with) and the time to write books that matter, otherwise, the sacrifice would’ve been for nothing.
I wish I could give up my day job, but that’s not possible. The thing I jettisoned–and really don’t miss–is watching television. Other than a couple of ballgames each week, my TV viewing is minimal. That freed up all kinds of time for writing. What I find most challenging is not carving out time each day, but getting my head in the right frame of mind. Writing takes intense concentration and focus and it’s not something I can do by grabbing 10 minutes here and 10 minutes there. I like to write at night but sometimes I am so mentalluy fatigued that it is impossible. I guess we all have our particular challenges with finding the time to write each day. Best wishes on your book, Lisa, and we will misss you on WU.
Wonderful post, Lisa. I’ve (mostly)had to give up my homeland – my family and friends, my landscape, my sense of belonging somewhere.
My husband’s work keeps us in the states (in the midwest.) My homeland is the UK. and i can’t keep up those connections as well as raise a family, run a small business and write.
That was a decision i took a long while ago.
If it isn’t about writing, close family and friends, exercise or meditation, then i don’t make time for it.
Longing to see your new book. i totally love Wired for Story and enjoyed working with you in Salem.
You’ve done it again, Lisa.
First you clarified for me that our brains our wired for story, and now you explain how our brains cannot do everything. We must choose. Of course. It’s so obvious, but so not. Especially if you’re a woman and watch those perfume commercials around the holiday season. They aim to convince you, that a real woman is invincible, a real woman can bring home the bacon, and fry it up in a pan, and look like a supermodel while accomplishing everything perfectly.
I read a story where a granter of wishes warned the wisher that magic always has a price. Reading your article here, makes me understand that you can substitute the word, writing, for magic, and the statement would still make a lot of sense. In fact, you could substitute dance, paint, travel, any choice and/or pursuit at all, and it would still make sense.
Thank you once again for dispelling all the smoke and mirrors and getting down to the nitty gritty fact. You’re alleviating a lot of guilt for me here—I’m sure for many of us, as you empower. You have armed us with the scientific knowledge of what choice entails. Choice comes with a price. Making that price worth the choice, that’s the real magic.
Lisa,
Good for you, taking the time for your book; bad for me, as I won’t enjoy and learn from your posts for a few months. However, I’ll gladly make that sacrifice if my reward is a new publication to stand beside my copy of WFS.
Such a(nother) wonderful and timely article.
Like Vaughn (and thanks, V, for such an expressive comment, which is indicative of the way the WU Tribe works–openly and vulnerably–so that we may grow as writers. Much respect, brah. Brah. I never use that word.)…anyway, I digress…like V, I worked long and hard for many years to reach a point where, when it was most needed, I was able to semi-retire and care for my mom. That was no sacrifice, more an honor, yet consumed all of my time.
It was during that period that I had the thought to pen any of it down. It was difficult, to say the least, and during my journaling, I wrote short stories and developed from there. Studied.
Free time was hard to find, and whatever possessed me to take up this venture at that point in life is beyond me. A need to be heard. A way to release…everything, if you can understand.
Since Mom has now passed, as well as my grief (at least the intense part), one would think I have much more free time, but it quickly filled with other comparably important demands.
And that’s where this post (and especially the UnCon) gave me strength to carve–yes, take a knife and cut it out if need be–my niche in this industry. It means saying “NO” to those equally comparable demands of life (which is indeed making a sacrifice, to some degree), and suffer in an entirely different way.
Which lends more credence to the term, tortured artists.
May your muse be gentle, kind, and swift.
Excellent post, and very timely. I’m working on a bit of goal-setting and figuring out what works/doesn’t work in my current process–because it’s clear a few things need to change. I will have to give some serious thought to what to give up, since the demands of family have taken precedence this year (often at the expense of the writing).
In a former life as an academic, I remember similar advice: what will you give up in order to finish the dissertation? Thinking about that helped me to finish (finally!), but also helped me to realize that a career as a professor would require me to give up writing fiction…and then I knew I had to make a very serious choice. Except it turned out it was an obvious choice; I may regret the time I “lost” in graduate school, now and again, but I’ve never truly regretted leaving academia. It’s helpful just now to remember how much I have invested and to KEEP GOING.
And thank you again for the reminder that we only have so much mental energy. I know this, I know this…but it still bears repeating! And when that energy is drained, we just have to give it a chance to recharge and be patient.
Best wishes to you, Lisa, as you work on the book! I think we all look forward to hearing how it goes…when the time comes.
TV.
TV is what I’m starting to give up to have more time to be a writer–which includes both writing and reading.
TV can be such a time sucker, especially when you have Netflix. Now I try to stick to a max of 2 episodes a day, so I have time to read and write.
Beautiful, Lisa, thank you. You’ll be missed until May.
You ask what we’ve given up to write. For many years, I gave up huge chunks of my career (I run my own business). When writing, I felt guilty, like I’d abandoned by business. Recently, I have the opposite dilemma. Circumstances have forced me to focus on my business (which happens to feed my children), and writing time seems hopeless. I yearn for it, but it must wait. Sometimes life dictates priorities. Sometimes, writing is the thing we must give up.
Denise Willson
Author of A Keeper’s Truth and GOT
I’ve been struggling with managing my time. I’ve read there are all these things you have to do if you want to be published even before you finish the book. But these other things take time away from writing.
This is really timely and good advice and I need to think about what I am going to give up to make the time to write.
Thank you for a great post.
You are so right Lisa. I had to choose some things to sacrifice when I started to really focus time on my writing. TV, knitting class, cooking large dinners, baking, needlework. I work full time and write under two names so far. It’s a challenge but we do it because we love it. Because it is part of who we are. Yes, I still make time for the things that are really important like family and RWA, but other things have fallen by the wayside. It hurts and I miss it, but I also know where I am going and have to work to make it happen.
Erzabet Bishop
Author of Written on Skin (and many others)
I really needed this article today. It has been almost a year since I retried from my full-time out-of-home job and refocused my life as a writer, speaker, teacher. But I struggle with trying to figure out if I’m just living a pipe dream or if I can actually succeed at this. I have purchased your book and hope to get it read in time for the contest of “free services”. Thanks again….and best of luck on your “time off” for your book.
Lisa:
I am so bummed you’re taking a break from WU and so thrilled we’ll be able to read another book from you. Loved Wired for Story, among my most used (and abused, based on appearance) writing books.
What makes this post work for me is that you’re not exhorting us to make writer-friendly decisions from on high, but making the tough choice yourself. Very smart to have someone like Jennie in your life to make the choice clear, as most of us duck the tough decisions when we can.
And i wouldn’t mind if you wrote very fast with your proven skill. I need more of what you offer.
Thanks, Lisa. Your words always inspire, especially this passage:
“Maybe the lingering fear that we’ve made a mistake isn’t regret. Maybe it’s the point. Maybe it’s saying: You’ve given me up in order to get something done, so you damn well better give it your all.”
If we really want something bad enough the fear of failure that spies on our progress, as soon as we make a sacrifice, is a tool we can use to keep us on track.
Since I let go of my day job to write full-time, I’ve made enormous progress. I’ve also replaced my day-job obligations with what I was raised to believe were my duties as a wife and mother. When I look at the dog hair on the floor and ring around the tub or the wastebaskets that need emptying, I fear my house is going to end up looking like Judy Dench’s in the film IRIS. You know the scene where the cop shows up to investigate when Iris goes missing and almost throws up when she goes into the bathroom. My house isn’t that bad, but I do wrestle with my Donna Reed complex now that I’m a full-time writer.
We can always find a way to stay away from the page. Thanks to your encouraging words today, I’ll have a much easier time doing battle with Donna Reed. Thanks.
I shall miss your monthly inspirations. Fortunately, the notes I took during your workshops at the UnCon and Wired For Story are only a glimpse away.
Happy Writing!
Hi, Lisa:
To make a writing lesson and not just a life lesson from this wonderful post — even characters who seem fulfilled possess a sense of lack. This lack fosters a yearning …
And so the journey begins.
May your months working on your novel be the most productive of your career. When you look back at what you had to give up in order to claim those months, may you consider the sacrifice worthwhile, if still bittersweet.
You will of course, without a doubt, darn tootin’ be welcomed back here with open arms and yips of joy (wait … that was my dog).
Best of luck, happy holidays, knock em dead.
Feed the hungry ghosts.
Hi Lisa,
Just caught up with your wonderful post as on holiday in new Zealand. Yes, not enough time before! All you write is so true and love the comments too. I was thinking though part of why we are always so busy apart from everything you name, is that we are caught up in success and failure/gain and loss.
I am learning to work from a ‘learning paradigm’ these days.ie. Whatever happens, what do I learn? And I learn exactly what you are saying! Unless I sgive up an hour a day on my Twitter account, my 2nd book will never get finished.
Thank you for such an insightful post. I have been thinking of the time issue for some time now, and I’ve been considering a post on wasting time for my blog. I am the queen of getting sidetracked with distractions, and before I know it, the day is gone. I am disabled, so I have more time than most. This article has helped me come to a realization that I need to get much stricter with myself. Thanks for the tips! Best of luck with your time off. I’ll miss your posts, but I am excited to read your new book! :)
Your insight will be missed.
Smart Lisa, smart Jennie. We’ll be here when you get back.
I have a hard time letting things go and admitting I’m over-scheduled. It’s comes from not always being sure about the boundary between quitting too soon or quitting for the right reasons. But I’m getting clearer about the distinction with time. You made the right call!
Lisa, thank you for this reminder that I shouldn’t feel bad that I’m not superwoman. :) Like a few other posters above, I’ve given up TV to find time to write. What I hadn’t fully realized until this year–I’m on sabbatical from teaching this year and thus have a LOT more time for writing, sleep, kids, and everything else–is that I’d largely given up reading for pleasure, too. This year I’m finally getting back to reading a TON, not just the books I’m teaching or the books I’m reading to my kids, but whatever happens to catch my eye at the library and whatever people recommend to me, as well as things I’ve long been wanting to read. I had no idea how much I’d been shortchanging myself in reading time until I suddenly had the time to do it again. The trick next year when I’m teaching full time again won’t be to work in the writing; it’ll be to work in the reading time. –Which, of course, feeds the writing and the soul.
Hi Lisa,
I’m glad you’re taking some time off for your self and your next book, and I wish you great success!
You’ll be missed, but I know you’ll be back, with more of your wisdom. It always gives me heart when you say “storytellers are the most powerful people on the planet.”
I do my writing first thing in the morning, before my brain starts going haywire with all the demands of any given day. I keep trying to figure out how I can block off more time later, but there’s my day job, which keeps us solvent, and various family demands that can’t be ignored.
Your post made me check out Jennie Nash’s site, and I’m thinking her Author Accelerator program might be just what I need. It’s easy to hold yourself accountable when it comes to other people’s needs, but a whole lot harder to give your writerly needs their just due.
I’m glad that Jennie made you take this time off, and I wish you all the success in the world!
Deb
This post really resonated with me, Lisa, because we’re fed this myth that you can have it all – job, family, social life, writing and if you can’t find the time to churn out a novel every year, the implication is that you’re not disciplined or motivated enough.
But something has to suffer, and I have given up a number of things to have the time to write. But funnily enough, most of those things don’t mean much to me anyway. The first is TV – such a time waster. I never watch it. Secondly, housework. I do the bare minimum and do a thorough clean every now and then (usually only when we’re having guests!) Admittedly this isn’t much of a sacrifice, as I hate housework.
Thirdly, a full time income. I work only 3 days a week – admittedly, my partner works full-time, but I am still sacrificing those extra luxuries and holidays we could have if I worked full time. And finally, a social life. If I didn’t spend so much time writing I would probably have time for a wider circle of friends and more outings, and to be honest, sometimes I wish I did, but as an introvert, I’m generally happy to have a small circle of friends and plenty of time alone.
It’s all a matter of mindset, I guess. It’s probably more useful to think of it as prioritizing rather than sacrificing, but I think if your writing is important to you, you’ll do it gladly.
What a helpful way to think about the problem! I wrestle with to-do lists and schedules and beat up on myself. I come up with tricks, like using a kitchen timer when I’m on the internet and turning off the internet connection off entirely when I’m writing. Yet I still come up short.
Choosing what I have to give up–now that restores my sanity. Thanks for such an insightful post, Lisa. I hope all your changes are good ones. And I’m looking forward to your new book!
Hey Lisa!
My name is Katharine Grubb and I am the author of “Write A Novel In 10 Minutes A Day.” I’m blown away that not only you and I seem to be of the same mindset that you CAN MAKE time to pursue your dreams, but also that you kinda mentioned my new book. (To be released March, 2015!)
The book came out of my five year journey of finding 10 minutes a day here and there to write my novel. I am a homeschooling mother of five children and I decided that if I waited until circumstances were perfect, my writing dreams would never become reality. Not only did I succeed in writing that novel, I blogged about it and then got contacted by a publisher (Hodder & Stoughton) who wanted me to write a book for them. Had I not taken the time I could find, I’d still be waiting on my first contract.
I have so much to say about this. I believe that it was not just important for me to do this, but it was important for my children to watch me set my timer, keep myself organized, hold myself to high standards, learn all I could and try, even if it meant failure.
Not only did I surpass all expectations I placed on myself, I have the joy of meeting people around the world that can use a little encouragement, practical tips and community around it.
Thank you for championing this idea!
I think this is part of what makes writing in the midst of emotional crises so hard at times. When you’ve already lost so much, who wants to choose yet another thing to give up?
And yet… and yet.
Who wants to lose *writing*, on top of everything else? A temporary break from certain kinds of writing, at the most. And in the midst of turmoil it’s hard to trust yourself to give up and later pick back up even that much. But what else can you do? Choose something to give up, or the not choosing becomes the choice, something will be chosen for you. We can’t do everything. Aaaaah.
Australian author Carmel Bird, in her book DearWriter, advises giving up housework. She says:
‘Students always think I am joking when I say give up the housework. I used to say give up ALL the housework, but the students have persuaded me to say NEARLY all. You have the choice of a clean house or a finished story. I am assuming you will make the right choice.’
I do minimal housework; sometimes less than that. When it gets to the stage where I can’t stand it or can’t continue to function in the mess — which takes a long time — it is the housework I fit into 10-minute increments here and there.
Email is also good in that I can write one xmas catch-up letter instead of many.
PS Doing vcery little housework also means I have practicaly given uo entertaining,too. If people drop in, I can get them a cuppa and find a place for them to sit, but for anything else I arrange to meet friends at cafes. It saves a lot of preparation time!
Thank you, and enjoy your writing time. I can see exactly where my time is being zapped, Facebook, email and surfing the internet. Even trying to catch up on blog posts about writing! I have figured out how to fit in my reading, audiobooks…I will now close Facebook and get to some research…
I crossed this bridge a long time ago, when I gave up all hope of having a “real” job for the uncertain promise of having a writing career. By coincidence, I was just ranting about this very thing in the latest issue of my Noiseletter (contact me to join). I copy/paste it thus:
For a couple of years there, like in the late eighties and early nineties, I subsidized my writing habit by hustling gigs as a strolling entertainer at shopping malls all over Southern California. I was extraordinarily good at this — a master of “beating my head against the phone” — largely because I had no shame. I would happily cold-call a mall marketing director, speak in the worst fake British accent you’ve ever heard, and sell myself as Bob the Jester. Or worst fake Irish accent and Bob the Leprechaun. I did it all. I had a ventriloquist act for a while (with my little wooden pal Rusty Randy Einstein Jones). Tons and tons of mime work. Partnering with my wife, we were the White Glove Mime Service, and when we did Santa Mimes at Christmas time, the malls just threw money at us. A hundred bucks an hour. Each, folks, each. That’ll support a lot of writing habit, you know?
My logic for this was simple: If I got a “real” job in a “real” firm, I couldn’t hope to make more than, let’s say, fifteen bucks an hour. I’d have to sell a whole lot more hours just to make ends meet, and that meant lots less time to write. But if I just hustled a little bit — beat my head against the phone — I could bank a week’s worth of work in just a handful of hours. Especially at Christmastime (see above: money thrown at). In this I learned an important lesson about earning: You have to sell something more than your time. If all you have to sell is your hours, you have to compete against everyone else who has hours to sell — which is pretty much everyone. But if you sell your chutzpah, or your indifferent eptitude as a ventriloquist, or your willingness to randomly entertain people for hours on end, or some other skill (or putative skill), well, now, that’s value added. You can put a higher price on that because not everyone can do it. In fact, almost no one can do it, because almost no one dares to try.
That’s the other lesson I learned. Dare to try. Throw it out the window and see if it lands. The worst they can do is say no (as they did during Desert Storm when I tried to promote myself as Operation Bob the Jester — no, that one didn’t work). I suppose I’ve always had audacity, but in those years I learned that I could monetize audacity. You can, too, by the way.
My last strolling Christmas was 1993. By the next year, a lot of things had changed for me. I was getting more TV writing gigs and, especially, starting to work overseas as a teacher and trainer of writers. I remember realizing that I no longer had the time nor the need to book myself out as some demented Santa’s helper. It felt good to leave that part of my life behind. I never did it again and I never missed it. But boy did it serve its purpose.
Can I pitch this to you as an early New Year’s Resolution? Find some way to be audacious. It’s pretty amazing how far a little moxie will take you if you let it.
Hey, Little Moxie… that’d be a great name for a demented Santa’s helper. Maybe it’s time to bring the act back.
“Hello, shopping mall?…”