Wednesday, December 5, 2012

Why I don't write

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There are two kinds of writers in the world: those who are naturals and those who have to work at it. I'm captain of team Work At It. And while I'm okay with that, it also means that writing is often more of a discipline for me than some sort of inescapable outpouring of words. And while I'm a pretty disciplined person, I find myself incredibly undisciplined when it comes to writing. Probably because it's really, really hard work.

I mentioned before that I've been reading a little book called How to Write a Lot by Paul J. Silvia. Confession: I haven't actually picked up the book since I wrote about it last month, so I've still only read one chapter. But that chapter kicked my butt. What it said about writing was right, but I just don't want to do it. It's like meeting with your doctor and having her tell you that you need to lose weight or eat better and you know she's right, but please, please don't make me give up my ice cream.

Chapter one is about all the excuses we make for why we can't write. The one I identified with most:"I don't have time" or "I'd write more if I had big blocks of time." The author argues that our mistake begins when we try to find time to write instead of allotting time to write, and defending that time once we've allotted it.

I've never really allotted regular time to write. Instead, I've been what Silvia calls a "binge writer," putting off writing until I feel so guilty and anxious about it that I make myself write for a few hours just to get it out and and feel better about myself....until another month goes by.

The truth is that I haven't read past chapter one because I haven't allowed myself to allot time to write. There's a part of me deep down that needs to be convinced that writing is worth my time, and while I know in my head that it is, I still struggle to see it as "productive." Often, I'd rather do laundry, write a letter, return emails, make baby food, or clean my house than write. Why?

Because I can see my progress. 
Someone will appreciate it. 
I can check it off a list. 
I feel productive. 

Writing doesn't usually give me that. 

It's never done. 
Most people will never see it. 
The goal is almost never certain. 

I found this from something I wrote back in the summer of 2010: What I love and hate about being a writer is the discipline of it all. Hate that it rarely comes to you quickly. Hate that it's easier to do just about anything other than write. Hate how it isolates me for hours on end--all for the sake of a paragraph! But love how I discover myself. Love how the pages accumulate like layers of quiet snow. Love the feeling of moving people with words. And I couldn't do the love part without discipline, which I often lack as a writer. I was writing every day then, and it shows.

So, if I'm really convinced (and I amthat I'm a writer and that using my gifts to write is an act of obedience and worship to God, then writing is absolutely worth my time, and that time is absolutely worth defending. 

So. Now I have to do the tough work of deciding on what allotted writing time looks like. Once a week for 30 minutes? More? Less? I worry about committing to more than I can follow through on, but I also don't want to commit to so little that it's just a lesser form of binge writing. And I have to learn to leave my cell phone in the other room, the dirty dishes in the sink, the face unwashed if need be so that I can make writing the priority it needs to be. I need to quit being a slave to "productivity," need to believe in the worth of my writing. But how? My friend Melissa sent me a great New York Times article by Silas House that touches on the answer, I think. Click HERE to read it.

1 comment:

Eating Cheetos said...

"Love how the pages accumulate like layers of quiet snow."

Beautiful.