If I had not been so determined to set seriously to work, I might have made an effort to start at once. But given that my resolve was unbreakable, given that within twenty-four hours, inside the empty frame of tomorrow, where everything fitted so perfectly because it was not today, my best intentions would easily take material shape, it was really preferable not to think of beginning things on an evening when I was not quite ready--and of course the following days were to be no better suited to beginning things. However, I was a reasonable person. When one has waited for years, it would be childish not to tolerate a delay of a couple of days...Unfortunately, tomorrow turned out not to be that broad, bright, outward-looking day that I had feverishly looked forward to. When it had ended, my idleness and hard struggle against my inner obstacles had just lasted for another twenty-four hours. (from In the Shadow of Young Girls in Flower)
How easy it is to justify not beginning to write. My favorite method of stalling is to read books on writing. I confess to having read The Courage to Write twice already. This is symbolic writing. It's a little like reading a book on weight loss with a pastrami sandwich in one hand, telling oneself the diet will start on Monday.
A great way of procrastinating is to read about the rituals of famous authors. Kent Haruf, for example, sits in front of a typewriter blindfolded and types as quickly as possible. As in an Catholic church service, there are a lot of smells and bells.
Some authors, like Anne Lamott and Natalie Goldberg and Julia Cameron, are better known for their books on how to write than for their other works. My favorite guide is Francine Prose's Reading Like a Writer. These books can be as helpful as they are seductive, yet in the end nothing but putting pen to paper will suffice.
It seems that a great many people feel they have a book in them (as opposed to a painting or a song or a dance) and they are just yearning for a stretch of free time to kick back and set to work. The novel is almost complete--it just hasn't been written yet.
Part of the problem is having such high standards: "I must wake up at 4 am to work on my novel" or "I must sit in front of my computer for 5 hours a day." Everyone at least marginally interested in writing has heard the advice to write at the same time each day, everyday, for at least an hour. Why is this simple prescription so hard at times?
I think many people are unknowingly afraid of what the act of writing will stir up. It's a form of perfectionism. If they abandon themselves and lose a minimum of control, they may end up broke, drunk, or crazy.
In the end, not writing is quite difficult. Once you plunge in, even for a few minutes, there is a great sense of relief.
I like the diving (your word, plunging) into writing as a sense of relief. It reminds me of those hardy souls who can jump into cold water, and then cheerfully say to you, "Come on in, it's great!" I'm always the one who slips in slowly, letting the shock waves grip inch by inch up the body.
ReplyDeleteNever having hazarded the long forms, I have never known the terror (and pleasure) of taking that plunge, so I always slip into my writing in brief sorties, little toe-jabs, wading around.