Writing on a Boat, with a Goat: Navigating an Evolving Writing Process
By Heather Webb | January 23, 2020 |
As I sit in the Chicago airport during a layover on my way to the Sundance Film Festival (headed to meet up with our very own Queen of Writer Unboxed, Therese Walsh!), I’m pondering the way my writing routine has changed. If you’d asked me a few years ago if I could write at a stand-up counter in the airport with hoards of people streaming on either side of me, I would have laughed. If you had asked me where and how my most important writing takes place, I would have said quietly, at my desk, or on occasion, in a dark corner at my local Starbucks. But as I munch on Garrett’s gourmet popcorn (omg, it’s the best here), I’m rather surprised at how I’ve changed.
In fact, it isn’t just the “where” that has changed (I write on a plane or on a train, in a box with a fox. I will write here and there. I will write everywhere. Thanks, Dr. Seuss), but how I view the different phases of creating a story that has drastically changed. Writing happens when I’m in the checkout line at the grocery store, or sitting in the carpool line. When I’m in the middle of a conversation with a stranger. Writing happens during meditative and repetitive activities—steamy showers, driving, exercising, eating green eggs and ham. It happens when I least expect to be assaulted by ideas or by my protagonist’s voice. I’ve learned that all of the staring out of the window processing time is writing time, too. It allows plot threads and characters to simmer in a chunky word stew. Eventually, the goodies in that stew float to the surface when they’re properly cooked.
Processing time is essential, but I have to admit, sometimes I need the reminder. Sometimes I try to force the writing. I stare at the page and I lament some plotline that isn’t making sense, or some character that isn’t fully three-dimensional and my wheels spin and spin like a computer program that won’t load. What usually follows is some sort of self-loathing or discouragement, and as I step away from the computer frustrated, I lament “all the lost time” of not putting words on the page.
What I’ve learned is when the words won’t come, it’s a symptom of something missing in the scene. It is also an indication that I might need to approach the story, character arc, or scene from an entirely different angle. I’ve learned to give myself permission to experiment.
I’m in the midst of putting the finishing touches on a book that I’ve been working on for three years. It has been three years of frustrations but also excitement and A-HA! moments. Moments of being proud. Not only has this book forced me to write when I could and wherever I could, but it has forced me to take the processing time I need. It has also demanded I experiment, and to let things go that aren’t working. As a usually-linear plotter, it has upended my process. In fact, I have a waste document with 36,000 words, two discarded timelines, one discarded framing device, and one discarded point of view to prove it.
I’m learning about how key flexibility is to the life of a creative, in all sorts of ways. Most of all, I’m learning to trust the process. I hope this is growth. I believe this is growth.
How has your process evolved over time?
Heather Webb is the USA Today bestselling and award-winning author of historical fiction. As a freelance editor and an adjunct in a MFA in Creative Writing program, Heather has helped many writers sign with agents and go on to sell at market. When not writing, she feeds her cookbook addiction, geeks out on history and pop culture, and looks for excuses to head to the other side of the world. To date, her books have been translated to seventeen languages.
What a thoughtful and meaningful post, Heather! Thank you for articulating what I feel too, but hadn’t clarified the way you have—that “writing” isn’t really the correct word for what’s more properly “story creating” or “story birthing.” The stuff that happens below the surface, in the subconscious parts of the mind and heart, is just as essential as the stuff that happens when we sit at a keyboard. To name this process “writing” implies that the keyboard part is the main thing. Obviously, it has to make it to the keyboard! But for sure, reflection and rumination are as much a part of the process as typing—which is why I’ve never liked the idea of setting “goals” to produce X words per day. For me, that doesn’t help, though I can see that for some, that can help to free the mind from other concerns. Isn’t it great how many aspects there are to this process for all of us! Thank you again!
Ah, Terminal B at ORD. Did you say hello to the dinosaur near Starbucks? I send a an iPhone picture of him to my kids every time I pass. Last time he was wearing a gigantic Cubs jersey.
I have written in both Concourse B and C, usually the the United frequent flyer lounge. Coffee bars are better, though. I also write on planes. Or pretty much anywhere. In snatches. Which is maybe why I now use sentence fragments?
If I waited for the right time and place or needed a routine, I would never get any writing done. True, a three hour layover beats a half hour dash between gates, but ORD is my friend. DEN too, and so on.
Enjoy Sundance. Get some writing done, there will be layovers between screenings.
As a long-time bread baker, my mind went right to that process. Gathering ingredients, combining, mixing, then waiting for the dough to rise. If it doesn’t, you can assume that something is missing or that conditions are somehow askew.
For me, writing is very much like this. Gathering, mixing, waiting. I don’t fly a lot but in the course of everyday life, I’ve learned to savor the anonymity of standing in lines to take mini-dives into the work. I’ve also learned to ask for the girls in the basement to ruminate while I sleep. It’s amazing what they can do in eight hours that I often can’t do in a week. Thank you for a wonderful post and enjoy the Film Festival!!
Susan, I love the bread making reference. Some of my best thinking takes place while kneading the dough. No, I do not – will never – own a bread machine. The kneading time is much too valuable.
I getcha, Susan. Another crucial step in making bread is punching down the dough before shaping and letting it rise again before baking. I used to cringe from criticism, my “punching down.” Now I look forward to it. I have so much to learn if I’m going to produce a beautiful, nourishing literary loaf.
Wonderful and clever post, Heather! I do have to remind myself a lot that I need brewing time, and that staring at the ceiling or out of the window of an airplane really is work, too.
Have a blast!
Hey Heather–I see an evolution in my process, too. Although I still do almost all of the actual typing of words in my office, as I always have.
I guess what I used to consider a need for quiet and a specific desk, keyboard, etc. has evolved into an awareness of the need for head-space. The actual noise in my life isn’t always the noise that keeps me from “working” on my WIP. And conversely, sometimes the noise I encounter in silence at my desk is counterproductive, as well (i.e. sham trials, etc.).
Hope y’all are have a marvelous–and productive–time in Utah! Here’s to ongoing evolution!
Hi Heather, I confess this has been my writing process for a long time. On a vacation, my husband driving, I always took notes. While my son had his saxophone lesson, I always wrote in the car, brought my notebook with me. In doctor offices, I’ll have the current book I’m reading but also a notepad in my bag. Sometimes the notes are amazing and yet–sometimes, well, I toss them. My motto–be prepared! Enjoy Sundance, another place to spark creativity.
Heather, wonderful post. Have a great time at Sundance! Enjoy, and let the processes simmer.
This world throws rush, rush, hurry, hurry messages at us–all the time. We are expected to fill each moment with productivity. And I try to pump it out. I feel guilty if I’m not pumping it out. Finished one manuscript onto ten more. But burn out happens… I don’t want it to happen to me. Thank you for this reminder to slow down, Heather.
Thanks so much Heather to see that I am not alone. If I hadn’t given myself permission to experiment a couple of years ago, I wouldn’t have the “real” story for my novel.
My best to you at Sundance.
Great post, Heather! I’ve evolved as a writer over time as well, though with this novel I feel like I’m moving backward. Or maybe it’s just that I need the quiet and peace during the early stages, but then when I know where I’m headed distractions don’t seem to make as much of a difference… Thanks for writing about it! Have fun at Sundance!!!