Are We Having Fun Yet?
By Julia Munroe Martin | May 30, 2016 |
Photo by Amy on Flickr’s Creative Commons
A couple of years ago I took a weekend writing class from a reasonably well-known author. In the first hour of class he told us a little bit about his writing process, and at the end of his spiel he said how much he really hated writing (but was driven to do it by the stories he had to tell). Writing is hell, he said, I don’t enjoy it, not one bit, and, further, if you’re a real writer—if you’re doing it right—you shouldn’t enjoy it either.
At the time, I was beginning revisions on my second novel, and I was querying my first. I couldn’t wait to sit down to write everyday. I was in the zone. I was having the time of my life. I opened my mouth to disagree, but when I looked around the room, I saw that everyone else was nodding in agreement. I clamped my mouth shut, put my head down, and furiously took notes, determined to learn what I could.
Here’s the thing. What I remember most from that class is not what that writer set out to teach. My real take away was this: if you’re a real writer, writing’s not fun.
Here’s the other thing. That first novel (that I was querying at the time) is in the drawer. I’m querying novel number two—the one I couldn’t wait to write everyday—and now I’m working on a new project. But I’m stalling. I’m writing but barely. I stop short of using the words writer’s and block in close proximity, but let’s face it, that’s what I’m afraid of. Because although I’ve started several times, I’ve never gotten very far. It wasn’t that I ran out of story; it was more that I…couldn’t write any further, wasn’t sure how to proceed. And eventually I just stopped.
So…am I a Real Writer Now?
Of course Mr. Reasonably Well Known Author’s voice is loud in my head. “Now you’re a real writer,” I imagine him saying to me. “Now get your ass in the chair and write, dammit.” (Yes, he would’ve talked to me that way; he did a lot of pointed swearing and swearing while pointing.)
How can I be a writer if I’m not (regularly) writing? Not even when I do put my butt in the chair—which, for the record, I do everyday. But, it turns out that may not be enough, because there’s a second piece I need to complete the writing puzzle: flow. In a blog post on Psychology Today, psychotherapist Barry Michels explains it this way. There are two points when a writer gets blocked (eeks, there are those words again). The first is sitting down to write. The second is “flow”—the feeling I describe as fun…being in the zone…when the writing just seems to flow effortlessly out of your brain and onto the keyboard. It’s the feeling of looking at something after you’ve written it and barely remember writing it. That’s what it used to be like for me—and that’s what I miss most and want to get back to.
Michels says lack of flow comes from the inability for a writer to be noncritical of what they’re writing. He advises this: “If you can’t accept the bad, you can’t get to the good. It’s as if the flow is pure, clean water trapped behind dirty, disgusting sewage.” And if you can’t welcome the sewage? You’ll never get to the good stuff.
Sigh. Welcoming the bad is easier said than done. Lately—in addition to having trouble putting words on the page—I’ve been deeply critical of even ideas I come up with to write about.
What’s A Writer To Do?
Rather than spiral into a negative vortex of, Oh my god. I can’t do this. What if I can never write again? (Which is what I—somewhat jokingly—recently texted to a writer friend.) I’ve started to accept and acknowledge my fear of writer’s block and then let the thought go, instead visualizing myself moving toward the flow of clean, pure water. I imagine writing effortlessly again.
I know I’m not the only writer who has struggled with this. In a 1979 article in The New York Times Book Review, Philip Roth said, “The road to hell is paved with works-in-progress.”
No, Mr. Roth was not the one teaching my class, and, no, I still don’t agree with the author who taught my class, but Mr. Roth and writer friends I’ve talked to about this have helped me open my mind to look at writing differently than I once did. Yes, I want to find that effortless place again—the fun of writing—but I’ve accepted that the path to get there may not be all fun. Maybe it’s not as black and white as I once thought it was. In fact, maybe Mr. Reasonably Well Known Author wasn’t (all) wrong. I’ve embraced the fact that sometimes writing—or parts of writing—will feel like hell, and when it does I need to pull on my hip boots and wade through the sewage before I can once again taste the clean, clear water of writing fun.
Do you think writing is (or should be) fun? Or is it pure hell? Or is it not so black and white for you either?
[coffee]
Julia Munroe Martin (@jmunroemartin) is a writer and blogger who lives in an old house in southern coastal Maine. Julia’s other passion is photography, and if she’s not writing at the dining room table or a local coffeeshop, you’ll likely find her on the beach or dock taking photos. Julia writes The Empty Nest Can Be Murder mystery series as J. M. Maison.
What this boils down to is most people don’t think fiction is a real job. Every novelist out there somehow translates into another hour of unpaid overtime for themselves. Some authors feel compelled to create an aura of martyrdom about themselves because it gives them something to answer the scorn with. Otherwise the question is a little silly: for every occupation, there are some people who will like the work and some who won’t, and among both sorts there will be good days and bad. You don’t need anyone to tell you how to feel.
I think you hit the nail on the head with this: “Some authors feel compelled to create an aura of martyrdom about themselves because it gives them something to answer the scorn with.” Definitely the vibe I got from him. Thank you for understanding and for your encouragement.
Julia, there’s a quote that’s been attributed to either Dorothy Parker or Robert Louis Stevenson, “I hate writing; I love having written.” I don’t think hating writing makes you a writer, but I have to admit that I always find myself nodding in agreement with this quote (most of the time). Ironically, to me, the dread of making myself sit down to write and digging a well to find the “flow,” always makes me feel like the opposite of a writer. I guess we writers come in all flavors. Thanks for this.
I think you’re right that writers come in all flavors — but I also feel like you do that the dread and digging to find the flow makes me feel the opposite of a writer. Thank you for your understanding and for the great quote; I haven’t seen it before!
Great post, Julia. I can identify with yuck sewage-bring-on-the-fun-clean-water as all part of the writing life. Maybe it has to do with the phases of the creative writing process–first draft, major edit/revision stage, more refining and fine tuning, and so on? Each aspect seems to come with its own flow moments and challenges.
Some of the folks here are probably familiar with a book I have found to be most helpful with the ‘hell’ part…The War of Art by Steve Pressfield.
Appreciate your sharing. Here’s to writing happiness–and a good set of hip boots when necessary.
I’d agree that each phase of writing seems to come with its own moments of flow and challenge — although from reading through these comments today, I think it varies from writer to writer. So interesting! I’ve not read The War of Art, but I’ll definitely be checking it out, thank you. And I may also be looking for that pair of hip boots! Thank you for reading and for your kind comment.
Julia,
I can really relate to this.
There was a project I dawdled on for three years before I put it “in the drawer.” Building an 8″x11.5″ coffin felt like hell. Another story basically attacked me on my morning walk and I had to hustle home to write down. I completed it in three weeks. That may sound awesome (and it is) but it was a rhyming picture book which means I thought in rhyme all day, every day until the project was done. Ever tried winning an arguement with your spouse by saying things like, “If you’d just get here on time, I really wouldn’t mind”? Yeah, that felt like hell too.
But then I took a hiatus from writing. Now that was the real misery.
So yes, sometimes and some parts of writing really suck, but not writing, that’s the real hell for me. I keep that in mind when my thoughts start to rhyme.
There’s much I can relate to in your comment, Celeste. Like this…what a perfect way of putting it: “Building an 8″x11.5″ coffin felt like hell.” And I can relate to the attack of an idea too — I love that feeling so much. And like you, now that I’m on a partial-hiatus from writing, it really is the most miserable. I want to write all the time and it’s hell when I can’t do it. Maybe I should try rhyming? ;)
Writing is a blast! If you’re blocked, get up, go do something else and come back to it a little later with fresh perspective.
Why is that first novel in the drawer? No publisher wanted it? They take 1-5% of what they see in a year. Publish it yourself. When it sells – and it will – and you can pay for a meal or a bill with that money, congratulations, you’re an author. Forget what very famous writer you took a course from said. Here are a couple of things another very famous writer said:
“If you wrote something for which someone sent you a check, if you cashed the check and it didn’t bounce, and if you then paid the light bill with the money, I consider you talented.”
and
“Amateurs sit and wait for inspiration, the rest of us just get up and go to work.”
and
“The scariest moment is always just before you start. After that, things can only get better.”
and, finally, this:
“Sometimes you have to go on when you don’t feel like it, and sometimes you’re doing good work when it feels like all you’re managing is to shovel shit from a sitting position.”
Who said all of those things? None other than one of the most famous writers ever, Stephen King.
Publish both books and keep on going. You’ve already done the hardest part, the thing most people who think they have a book in them never do, you sat down and you wrote them.
I love Stephen King’s thoughts and ideas — he’s very inspirational. I actually did self publish one of my books and I may consider doing so again in the future. I think it’s true that I often don’t give myself enough credit for having written the books I have, thank you for reminding me. And thanks so much for reading, Anne; again, I so appreciate your kind words.
Writing isn’t a perfect living hell (I know because that honor belongs to my day job) but I would classify writing as difficult most of the time interspersed with bouts of “Man alive, this is so cool!”.
I would be surprised (and would love to hear from them) if any author finds writing is always easy, but I’d guess we all live for those flow moments–those times when you look back on all the toil and say ‘This was so worth it!’
For me, without doubt the most tortured part of the process is not the writing per se, though difficult, but having a head full of ideas and trying to wrestle a story into place without my mind carting me off in 50 possible directions. I lose a lot of time because of this and get very frustrated.
But I wouldn’t trade the adventure for anything.
Yes, I think all of us live for those flow moments — it’s totally what makes all the other difficult times worth it. I’d never separated it out before, but I think I agree with you that wrestling the ideas into place is probably what I’m really struggling with, and right now I can’t quite nail down exactly what I want to write about… yes, tortured and frustrated is exactly how I’d describe it. Here’s to getting back to the adventure part!
Writing a first draft is like forcing myself to eat a plate full of raw broccoli. I know it’s good for me, but getting it down will involve a lot of stalling, whining, and gagging. The only thing that gets me through the torture is the promise of that enormous chocolate lava cake (revising) at the end. Poke anywhere and delicious words spill out.
The process depends on the manuscript, though. I have whipped out an entire first draft of about 100K words in three months before, and that was accomplished during my firstborn’s naps. In that case, the broccoli came after the cake, and you can imagine how much of that I could stomach. In case you are wondering, that manuscript was read by a total of five people and lives under the bed.
Your comment is so interesting to me, Kim….because each of us has such a unique and different way of viewing writing and the writing process because for me the editing/revising has always been the much more difficult part of writing (over first drafting). But what I’m finding is that not only do each of us as writers prefer different parts of the task, but that preference can change and morph over time — now I seem to enjoy revision more than writing — just as I’ve read on WU in other posts that being a plotter or a pantser can change….or writing a first draft quickly or slowly (I’ve now experienced it both ways, too, just as you have)….just as apparently taste for broccoli can (I love it). I’m pretty sure, though, that not many people would disagree about the promise of an enormous chocolate lava cake. I know I’ll have that image in my mind all night…
Mr. Reasonably Well Known Author doesn’t enjoy writing.
Do you find his books reasonably enjoyable to read?
Dying to know!
Haha, Anna, good point. No. I did not. Not at all!
I had a bad experience and took even worse advice to heart and didn’t write any story for nearly a year. Looking back, I think it did me good to experiment with other forms of writing and that time helped me realize, for sure, in stone, that I’m a storyteller.
But now I feel I’m nearly back to square one. I tried to use the same process as before- complete and utter pantsing. It took me another few months to realize I’d changed, and my process had to as well. So I went to work on an outline and realized I loved it. Now I’m right at the beginning of drafting, and is the sludge ever thick here. I’m taking it one day at a time, and use the outline to tether me.
It’s not the old heaven of being blissfully in the zone yet, but it’s not hell either. Some days, I smell sulfur, other days I hear the dulcet tones of good times to come.
Reading this and the comments helped me realize most of us experience, well, shades of gray. (Sorry.)
Oh, Tonia. I could’ve written your comment. It sounds like we’ve had some very similar experiences with writing. And this… “It’s not the old heaven of being blissfully in the zone yet, but it’s not hell either. Some days, I smell sulfur, other days I hear the dulcet tones of good times to come.” Yes, that. And yes, shades of gray. Thank you so much for reading and understanding and empathizing.
“If you’re doing it right, it shouldn’t be fun” is bullshit, pure and simple. People like Mr. Reasonably Well-Known Author probably shouldn’t be teaching; I suspect they do more harm than good.
I wish you’d been sitting next to me in class, Jeffo…thank you. I will say that at least I wrote an honest end-of-class evaluation because like you I suspect these kinds of teaching methods do more harm than good. Thank you for reading and for your comment!
Writing is hard. It’s lonely; it can trigger intense anxiety; it barely pays anything; who reads anymore?; and it takes moving from the busy-busy world of the everyday to a calm space where we need to deep-breathe in order to sink into our own enchantment. But it isn’t only that. It’s also the elation of that absolutely exact turn of phrase, the epiphany of the perfect twist ending. Like you say: the flow. Writers write because it is the way we make sense of the world. I rarely call it fun (although some days, yeah, it is) but I do call it meaningful because it’s the task to which I’ve devoted my life.
“It’s the task to which I’ve devoted my life…” Exactly how I feel, too, Lauren. One of the things I love most about writing for WU is the incredible sense of community I get from writers; I so appreciate your empathy and understanding.
I’m always wary of people who make bold general statements, especially when they contain words like should, shouldn’t, always or never. I think this process is different for each of us and changes over time. For me, ‘hard’ doesn’t necessarily mean ‘not fun’. Yes, more often than not the writing doesn’t come easily. But there are moments of flow when, after endless hours of revising and shaping, the sludge gives way to a flow of the good stuff. I think this is what keeps me coming back to my chair, the knowledge that if I’m willing to feel uncomfortable most of the time, I might get the payoff. But writing is not for folks who need instant feel-good results. Your pretty-well-known writer made me think of a teacher I had who liked to cuss and make pronouncements similar to what he made to you. As a wide-eyed first time novelist, I had to unlearn some of the things this person said. So I agree, some people shouldn’t teach. But they do, and so we get to develop the skill of discernment and oil our bullshit meters. All good. Thanks for this!
“hard doesn’t necessarily mean not fun.” Thank you! I’m so glad you said that, Susan! Here’s to unlearning and the skill of discernment.
I’m actually making progress in that first draft. Ha. That even surprises me. Two things I’m trying to do after culling through lots of advice. Make my writing time a priority. Putting it before cleaning the house and other tasks. So now the writing gets done first and the house straightened second. (and some days the straightening is not so straight.) Second, write fast. Don’t think too much for the first draft. Rather than stopping to research a point, I make a note to do that later with I revise — if I even keep it. Writing fast on a time limit has really helped me get something down. I know a lot will change in revision but at least I think I will have a first draft to revise by summer’s end. Something I’ve been talking about for three years. Or four? You inspire me, Julia. Hopefully, I’ll be drafting a second novel this time next year.
That’s wonderful that you’re making progress, Jamie!! I’m not sure how I inspire you, but I’m glad I do…and I love that you put writing first. Such good suggestions here, thank you. So glad you’ll have a first draft by summer’s end, exciting. Thank you for inspiring me with such joyful writing news!
Julia, I urge you to read Elizabeth Gilbert’s book Big Magic: Creative Living Beyond Fear. She maintains that how we view our work is entirely up to the writer. She writes: My ultimate choice, then, is to always approach my work from a place of stubborn gladness.
When I weigh down my writing with worry and concern it ceases being fun. When that happens I take a break from working on my manuscript. Instead, I re-discover the joy of writing by writing just for the fun of it.
I will definitely get that book, Leanne; thanks so much for the suggestion! And for the understanding and empathy — so very appreciated! Here’s to writing for the joy of it!
I loved Big Magic… And I’m actually sitting down to write again. Can you believe it?!
I have to order Big Magic, Shary! And I’m so excited you’re writing again!! That’s awesome!! <3
Julia, writing is a release for me. I love it. What I get frustrated with (and note that I do not call this hate) is when the words don’t flow, when the picture or movie in my head is difficult to translate into words. First drafts are generally a pain for me, but I love revising, making the story as true as I can make it. In contrast, a good writer-friend of mine loves letting the first draft pour out of her, but doesn’t enjoy revisions as much.
I don’t really understand the mindset of hating writing. I much prefer Jane Yolen’s attitude: Take Joy (she has a book by the same name :) Happy writing, Julia.
I’ve always been one that loved the flow of the first draft — clearly right now it’s not flowing all that well — but like you would never have described my feelings about revising as “hate.” You’re the second commenter who has mentioned Jane Yolen’s book, and I will definitely check it out. Thank you so much! Happy writing to you, too, Vijaya!
Hmm… For me, writing is a great many things, but hatred doesn’t come to mind. I actually find this kinda sad. If a writer really hates writing, maybe he / she should find something else to do with their time. Writing can be a difficult slog sometimes, and it’s not always rainbows and kittens, but life is too short to spend a ton of time doing something you hate.
Dee Willson
Author of A Keeper’s Truth and GOT
That’s exactly what I thought, too, Dee — I didn’t ask but wondered why he kept doing it.
I’ll take an educated guess that this teacher writes literary fiction, not genre. The writing-is-hard-and-painful school of thought dominates literary fiction. It always has because these writers supposedly stare into the depths of their unhappiness then write what they find in their own blood.
As someone who has written for over thirty years, I’ve found that writing can be hard and unhappy at times, but, for the most part, I enjoy it.
I always say that writing is fun, but the business aspects stink.
I also suggest to my writing students that, if they don’t enjoy the process of writing to find something else to do with their time because the financial and emotional rewards of a pro career aren’t worth it if you don’t enjoy the writing.
Yes, he does write literary fiction, good catch! I think that’s good to make the distinction between having fun and enjoyment — the satisfaction of accomplishment is something I didn’t write about, but yes there’s that, too, even when I’m not having fun; this has been more true in my freelance writing, which I’ve been at for a long time. Thanks for understanding and for your POV from the teaching side. Much appreciated!
Your words ring all too true, Julia. I’ve had times like this myself. As with any work, there are bad days and good days. And sometimes when there are a few more bad days than good, these feelings can quickly bring us into a negative spiral.
I’ve found pursuing a different creative outlet to be incredibly helpful. I paint (terribly) or practice photography. There are no expectations. It’s something to get me away from words and into another frame of mind.
Have you read Big Magic? There are lot of great suggestions and positive pick-me-ups.
Drawing & painting are my diversions for those times too.
I’m so glad to hear you’ve gone through this too, Jackie — well, I’m not glad as much as I am relieved. Photography has really helped me (at times) to get me into another frame of mind so I know what you mean. I’ve considered painting as well. I like what you say about there being no expectations. I haven’t read Big Magic, but I think I need to get a copy. Thanks for your empathy! So appreciated!
Yes, writing is a job. But if you like it, it isn’t really “work” in the traditional sense. Same as any job. And, if people really don’t think writers have to put forth any effort, then why aren’t those critics writing? Oh, wait, some critics do write. And they suck at it. Just remember that and keep doing your job!
Exactly, I agree. Here’s to refinding the like in writing. Thanks for reading, Steve!
An excellent post, Julia, on a difficult topic. I say it’s difficult because few writers enjoy talking about the rough spots, or rough months … or rough years. Sure, one can mention it briefly, ala “I’ve been distracted lately, but it’s going better,” even if the latter sentiment is more wishful thinking than anything.
What I’ve come to realize is my first book, frightening as it could be at times, was enthralling. On some level, I knew the story and had faith all was possible. I trusted I would find my voice. What I needed would come, be it editing help, better words, a path to publication. And that belief was true, surprisingly true in hindsight.
Only afterwards did I realize all I learned in the process also sewed seeds of doubt on my sophomore effort. Now I know why so many stories involve writers who are blocked; after all, we’re constantly told to write what we know, aren’t we? It was as if I knew too much, and all the ways things can go astray. My flow, now that you’ve given me the vocabulary to describe it, was shattered. In the months afterward, I found countless ways to sabotage my efforts, including a rather unhealthy obsession with promoting the first. I lost over a year of productivity in the windmills of my mind, and lost the joy writing had initially brought to my life.
Yet I still love writing … could never speak ill of it. I know in my heart, and head, that I am built for this. That’s what ultimately brought me around. Now I rise each day with that basic thought, a mantra of sorts. Thinking of it in spiritual terms is fitting, for I suppose I am learning to believe again.
Trust yourself, Julia. I’ve read enough of your writing, and viewed enough of your beautiful photos, to see you have stories to tell. You know how to capture a moment, and to convey true emotion. In short, you have what it takes.
Be well, and write what you love, with love.
John, I cannot tell you how much your comment means to me — thank you from the bottom of my heart. This alone: “Yet I still love writing … could never speak ill of it. I know in my heart, and head, that I am built for this.” Yes. But moreso for the fact that from your comment I know you understand exactly how I’ve felt. Enthralled. And now, yes, shattered flow. It’s very hard, and my greatest solace has been through the kind words and understanding and encouragement of my writing friends. I’m glad to count you among them. Thank you.
Anytime, Julia. Anytime.
Good post. I know the feeling of having the book take over and the words begin to fly onto the screen. It can be joyous but also painful, depending on what I am dealing with at the time.
Basically, every one writes their own way.
It really is a joyous/painful feeling, but–yes–we all write in our own way. And, as I’m realizing, sometimes our way may change along the way. Thank you for reading and for your kind words.
Whenever I’m blocked, I pull out a trusty book about writing that has prompts or “assignments” at the end of each chapter. I take a prompt, let my mind go and end up writing something that has the potential to turn into a great story or novel or personal experience piece. I don’t allow myself to critique. I just write and then look at it a few days later. It’s not a masterpiece, but it always shows me I’m a writer. And with that confidence I move back to whatever project I felt blocked in.
That’s such a good suggestion, Giselle — I love that you don’t allow yourself to critique. Thank you for thoughts…I’d love to know what book you use!
I’ve read the post and skimmed over the comments, and not one writer here has made any mention of right brain/left brain.
There’s a classic book out there: Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain: by Betty Edwards. This book is talks to artists, but the theory applies to all forms of creativity. Essentially it says that the brain is divided between the creative half and the critical half. All our lives our formal education has trained the critical left side of the brain to overpower the creative right side. When we run into writer’s block, it is the left side taking over because that is what we’ve been taught to do.
I’m saying this badly, but it’s from the top of my head. If I just get it down on ‘paper’, using the creative right side of my brain and not worrying about style or form, that’s my first draft. (You see how awkward this is coming?)
THEN I can go back and edit it into a much smoother style using the left side, the critical side of the brain.
If you think about this a while, you will realise that our best ideas come to us when we wake in the middle of the night with ideas running rampant. Or when we’re in the shower, or walking the dog in the woods or driving down the road. These moments are when our mind is relaxed, when we’re not TRYING.
We can’t force creativity. The right side of the brain, the creative side, is only free when the left side relaxes and lets it free. We can’t force the left brain to shut down. We must relax and let it rest.
That is when the right brain finds it a joy to write.
That book has never been out of print since it was first published.
Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain; by Betty Edwards.
I will definitely check out this book, Lyn, thank you so much! I think you really are onto something! I was brought up in a family that — to put it mildly– did not encourage me to pursue a career in creative writing (not a serious or academic enough endeavor). Whenever I have doubts about my writing, I kick into extreme self criticism and then become my own worst enemy. It sounds like this book my really give me the help I need to break through. Thanks so much!!
I vacillate between loving and hating the writing bit. But I still love the editing bit – fixing that first draft can be hard, but I find it so rewarding.
Fixing the first draft is so rewarding, I agree, but I’ve always leaned toward loving the drafting more…yet more and more coming over to the side of loving the editing/revising more. Thanks so much for reading!
You might want to read Jane Yolen’s book, Choose Joy. I think we have a say over whether writing is fun or not. Maybe not over whether it is hard or not, but we get to choose how we feel about the process. Good luck.
I will definitely check out Jane Yolen’s book (love her writing!). I definitely agree that we have a say over how we perceive things that happen to us — so I should to apply that to my writing too. That is such a good point. I’ll check out Jane’s book! Thank you!
I think it works a bit like running / exercise for some people. My sister is a cross-country runner and willingly(!) goes for 9km runs. When I ask her how she can stand it, she surprises me by saying that it’s actually hell when she’s doing the run — she’s like any other mere mortal who hates the sweat and the painfully beating heart and the stitches in the side. But there’s something more, the rush, the feeling of power, the knowledge that she’s accomplished something, that must cancel it out for her. Similarly with writing, there are times when it does feel a bit of a slog but writers are the ones who find some sort of joy in that uphill battle. To be honest I feel a bit sorry for this writing instructor of yours who apparently doesn’t find that joy!
You know, explaining to me how your sister feels makes me feel a little bit better about that class and the instructor — thank you. Maybe that is really what he meant (vs. what I understood he was saying). Still, like you, I do feel a bit sorry for him. The rush of the writing flow truly is a joy! Thanks so much for reading and for your comment, Greer.
Wonderful article, Julia, and boy, can I relate. I think there are flow days and sludgy kinds. Sometimes you get both in one writing session. I have a hard time just spilling out a first draft also, I get hyper critical and think, well, aren’t I just making things harder for myself in the editing stage if I don’t clean this up along the way? But then I never finish. I’m trying now to write a memoir, which is a crazy leap from my comfort zone and experience in fiction, and in a way, it’s easier to just spill out in this new genre, maybe because I have little to compare it to. I wish you luck in finding that clear stream, at least for a while!
Thank you! I think you get to the heart of it, Dana, with this: “I get hyper critical and think, well, aren’t I just making things harder for myself in the editing stage if I don’t clean this up along the way?” That’s how it starts for me and then it becomes a downward spiral. I love that by writing something totally different, it’s freed you to find the flow….here’s hoping I do, too. Thank you for the empathy.
20 years ago, when I was in grad school for writing, I had an independent study with the teacher who asked if I enjoyed writing. When I said yes, he said, “It’s fun isn’t it?” That stuck with me, because so many people acted as if it’s torture. If it’s such torture, go do something else! Of course that doesn’t always mean it’s easy. But something can be a lot of hard work, and still fun.
Now that’s the kind of writing teacher to have! To state that writing is fun? That’s wonderful. And I totally agree that something can be a lot of work and still be fun. Thank you, Chris!
Honestly, I believe the answer is a fairly clear-cut one. If you were to ask any author that continues to work on improving their writing, I believe that they’d all agree that there are days of despair; even moments of pure hell. The same could be said for professional athletes – I couldn’t imagine that every day of training is welcomed with an immense enthusiasm, such as, “sure, I’d love to run another 20 laps!” or “I’m genuinely thrilled at the idea of being unable to sit down after training.” A certain amount of pain must truly be endured in order to achieve the desired result. Writing is no exception.
I think you’re absolutely right. Nothing is all fun all the time. I think that’s why I was a little taken aback by the “hate writing” comment. Writing is definitely no exception to some days needing the extra 20 laps to reach the desired result; so true, Dave! Here’s to me finding that balance.
Julia,
I always love your insights and this is an excellent post! Interesting too that there is such variation in the comments– a full spectrum of emotions when it comes to writing.
I also love Lauren’s idea that we write to make sense of the world. I have heard other writers argue that writing “well” means sitting in a spartan room with headphones and no internet–keeping the world at bay. The implication is that a writer can step out of the world and into “the zone” at will. Of course, the corollary is that not being in the zone is then some sort of failure on our part.
I don’t think it’s ever that easy. Writing doesn’t happen in a place that is separate from everything else — and everything else includes noisy kids, sick parents, broken-down cars, backaches, and dog vomit (among other things). One of the most self-sabotaging ideas I cling to is that I can write well and write at the same velocity and output NO MATTER WHAT. Not true. Sometimes there is pain or grief or illness, and they are another type of “sludge” to wade through.
That’s the work. Sometimes it’s hard. Sometimes it’s easy. For me, it’s usually a mess of words and minutes tangled into something that I would rarely call flow, but that is definitely mine, in any case. I do my best to claim it.
This is something I’ve thought a lot about lately — the fact that I really can’t (always) separate out my writing life from my everyday life. In fact, I almost wrote about how writers never get holidays like other people do, because how do we turn off our “jobs,” if you call it that? And in reverse, how do we turn off what’s happening all around us (completely) to write? It’s such a conundrum especially if we happen to have something extraordinary going on in our lives. I’d certainly agree with this: “One of the most self-sabotaging ideas I cling to is that I can write well and write at the same velocity and output NO MATTER WHAT.” So much so that I think I’ll write it on an index card and tape it to my laptop. And it’s especially nice to hear another writer reflect what I feel myself. I always love your insights, too, Lisa — thank you so much for the empathy and the kind words! (BTW, I agree, I love the variety of comments to the post — fascinating!)
I love writing. Love, love, love it. It’s my dream job, and I’m incredibly lucky to do it for a living. But to be honest, for me, at least, the question of whether writing is fun or hell is almost irrelevant. Our society puts a lot of emphasis on personal happiness and “being in the moment”, such that we’re conditioned to think, Am I happy? Am I enjoying this? all the time. But for me, writing is a state of NOT thinking about myself at all. I’m there to serve the story. Period. Not to make myself happy, not to have fun. I sit down and try to empty out my own ego so that the story can flow without my putting up any roadblocks in it’s way. I really don’t ever stop to think about whether I’m personally happy or having fun while I’m writing, I just sink into the story– and yet perhaps paradoxically, that feeling of serving the story and telling it to the best of my ability makes me indescribably happy.
That is so wonderfully amazing, Anna. I understand exactly what you mean from the times I’m in the zone and feeling that flow…and the indescrible happiness that accompanies it. But I know what you mean about our society puts a lot of emphasis on happiness, so much so that if we don’t have it, we feel like something is wrong. Even more so if we see all our FB friends advertising how happy they are. I’m so glad you weighed in here. Such important points. Here’s to sinking into the story!
I have to come back and chime in again since this post was so timely–coming at a time when I had a rare opportunity to have 5 days off in a row that for once DIDN’T have to be used for errands, doctors appointments, other obligations.
This weekend, writing was FUN. Brainstorming was fun. Yesterday, I zipped off over 9000 words–first draft words to be sure, but words nevertheless. More important than that, I had 4 straight days to sit and think and be and just think about my characters, my subplots, the novels in series.
In some ways we pride ourselves on our rush, rush, rush society. Brag that we wrote for 3 minutes before the dentist pulled us back to the exam room. And certainly we have to take advantage of every spare moment because most people don’t have the advantage of living any other way.
But for me, no argument any writer ever makes will dissuade me that creativity flows best when you have time to be something other than an anxiety riddled, time-panicked machine. Yes, I know all the arguments about working under pressure, etc and that certainly has its place and I’ve experienced it.
But having this experience this weekend, I wonder how much creativity is lost, how many inventions are not made, how many life saving cures not developed because most people have no choice but to run screaming through every day like their hair is on fire.
I definitely had fun with this writing and am going to make a point to take another long weekend just as soon as I possibly can. I’m ready to experience that flow all over again. That is what the joy of writing is all about.
I’m so happy you came back to tell us, BK! That feeling of fun writing — those 9K words — is what I live for in writing. It is the best feeling in the world. Anxiety definitely puts the skids on writing for me, too, whether it’s work or personal. That’s such a good point. This made me laugh out loud (really): “I wonder how much creativity is lost, how many inventions are not made, how many life saving cures not developed because most people have no choice but to run screaming through every day like their hair is on fire.” Funny but so true!
Well, I actually like writing, so I guess I’m not a real writer. :-) Seriously, there are rough days when the words come slowly and I think they are crap. Then there are days when I can’t type fast enough and I know those words aren’t crap. When I read Bird By Bird by Anne Lamott a number of years ago, I loved her chapter on shitty first drafts. I knew that those pages of crap just needed to sit there until I finished the story. Completely finished the story. Then I could go back and work on craft to polish the crap into something better. That to me is what writing is all about.
Now ask me how much I like the business side of writing. :-)
What you say makes so much sense to me, Maryann! The pages of crap just sitting there until the story is done, ready to polish…right now I long for not only the free-flowing days but the rough days (as crazy as that sounds). As for the business side, now that’s a horse of a different color! :-)
Yeah. Some days I’m thinking, “Fun? What’s fun again?” And other days I’m thinking, “I can’t BELIEVE this is my job! :D” Sometimes they’ll even be back to back on the same WIP. Sometimes one WIP is torture while another is bliss, and it doesn’t necessarily have to do with which is good or bad, simply how my mind works on them. Fun is great, and important — because I do believe angst can make its way to the page — but not always a given. I work even when I don’t feel like it because I treat this as a job, but I also revel and play when the mood strikes me, because I also treat it as a calling and a passion. So mixed feelings, absolutely. Hang in there, Julia. The fun will come back when it’s ready. :)
This is so helpful, Annie, thank you for your comment:
“Yeah. Some days I’m thinking, “Fun? What’s fun again?” And other days I’m thinking, ‘I can’t BELIEVE this is my job! :D’ ”
I’m coming to that…and wondering how somehow fiction writing has not ever seemed like hard work before now (even when treating it as a job…maybe I’ve just been lucky to this point). Yes, the fun will come back (I need to trust that it will) and meanwhile, I need to make sure I still treat it like a job. Thank you for the sage reinforcement.