Perhaps the most frightening sight for a writer is the blank page. Its terrors have driven many of our brethren to strong drink, greatness, or both.
Sometimes I even hate finishing a page because I know another one is waiting, its vastness daring me to fill it with my puny thoughts, meager vocabulary and--by the way--how could anything I produce ever be worthy of the writers who have gone before me? I used to make "C's" in high school English!
And so goes the constant babble of recrimination spewed by the monster of self-doubt lurking behind every blank page, which often becomes a mirror for our deepest insecurities.
The Monster's Source
The source of the monster's power is not merely the risk of humiliation
we take every time we write, when we reveal parts of ourselves as
personal as our underwear.
There's also the mystery of the creative act. Although humans have explored deep space and the mysteries of DNA, we still know frighteningly little about creativity except that some of us have more of it than others, and that if we study our craft and work real hard maybe, just maybe, the magic will happen--but maybe not.
It's that possibility of not measuring up that makes some of us write not at all, others of us less than we would like, and many of us at a lower level than we could if sitting down and doing it were not so anxiety-ridden, so unpleasant, so frightening.
I Am Not Worthy
When I left my job as a college professor of writing in order to
freelance full time, I was forced to deal seriously and quickly with
these issues of self-doubt and procrastination. I developed a technique
I call "block writing" that helped me overcome three common mistakes
that self-doubting writers make, especially when the writing clock
strikes high noon and it's time to create a first draft.
3 Mistakes Writers Make
Mistake #1: Writing Too Slowly
Ever watch a painter or sculptor work? They don't pause after each
brushstroke or chisel strike. But I know writers who cannot pen more
than a sentence without stopping to reread and revise it, as if perfect
prose should flow from them like birdsong and the final product should
take shape sentence by perfect sentence.
Au contraire.
On a first draft, the writer must probe the soft underbelly of thought where words and vision, form and intuition come together. Taking that inward journey means a commitment to writing in an uncensored way, and that usually means writing quickly and without stopping. By writing quickly, we finally silence the critical monitor, the little devil who sits on our shoulder interrupting the creative process: "Is that the best word?" "This is probably a dead end." "What's a better way to phrase that?" "Will my professor think that's stupid?" The devil gets his turn in the revision and polishing stages, not now.
Writing quickly also gets us in sync with our internal voice, which gives writing its authenticity and resonance. The bottom line is that there is a time to create and a time to evaluate. Although both are legitimate parts of writing, they are best done at separate times.
Mistake #2: Not distinguishing between the fear of failure and the possibility of failure
It amazes me that every time I sit down to write, I still get that
panicky fear in my gut that makes me want to wash dishes, sharpen
pencils and walk the cat--anything to procrastinate. I still have to
remind myself of the important difference between the fear of failure
and the likelihood of failure.
Rooted in psychological insecurity, fear of failure often has little connection to its actual possibility. The reality is that if I've done good research, know the format and audience I'm writing for, and I am willing to put in the time, then failure is unlikely. Although I've learned to accept my irrational fear of failure as a part of my writing personality, even to welcome it because it makes me try harder and keeps me humble, I've also learned to trust reality: I recall all the other times I've sat down to perform this same act and been successful. Why should it be any different this time? The strong likelihood is, I tell myself, it won't be.
Mistake #3: Focusing on the final product
While riding horses and occasionally teaching writing at the University
of Virginia, William Faulkner talked of the difference between "those
who want to write and those who want only to have written." I think he
meant that--rather than focusing on the ego or monetary by-products of
our work--we are better off focusing on the challenges of writing, the
potential it offers us for personal growth and learning, and the
satisfaction of creating something.
Books and articles and business reports are mere things. Their completion offers only momentary fulfillment. In the end they will be read by few, remembered by fewer. What's left to sustain us? The doing.
Over the years, I've found that block writing has taught me these four simple but important lessons, without which I don't think I could make a living doing this:
1. To write, no matter my mood or level of fear
2. To focus on discrete steps and problems as they arrive in predictable sequence, not on the final product
3. To keep my head down and butt in chair, ignoring the long, arduous road I must travel to produce final copy
4. To derive primary satisfaction from the actual process of creating, not its outcome. While I always hope that the final product will be one of my best, I know that there will always be successes and failures and things in between, but the satisfaction and joy of my craft will never abandon me.
How To Block Write
To begin block writing you need a timer, preferably with an alarm. When writing a first draft, I use the timer to divide my writing day into 45-minute to 1-hour blocks, each followed by a 10-minute break.
The goal is simple: to sit derriere in chair and not get up for 1 hour. Eventually, doing this will become automatic. You'll have to give it no more thought than you do to brushing your teeth. You just do it without the complaining, the hesitation, the extra push of will.
Know This
Tell yourself: If I sit down for enough 1-hour blocks, eventually the work WILL get done. To paraphrase Woody Allen, "80% of writing success is just showing up."
Avoid heavy commitments like, "Each block I will produce two pages of copy."
Bull-dookey.
It doesn't work that way. You never know what's going to happen once you sit down. You could produce 20 pages or 2 or none at all. Each outcome will have occurred for a legitimate reason.
All you do know is this: put in enough time in the chair and eventually it will get done.
Three More Things You Really Need