Welcome to another edition of Fiction Notes. You can find previous essays here—topics range from idea generation to the importance of talent, to outlining a novel. If you like what you read, please hit reply or shoot me an email. And if you haven’t, please sign up!
This week I'm covering the border-line infamous topic of productivity. Specifically, I'll be writing about productivity for writers. I know. Productivity is an ugly word. Adding the word 'productive' behind the word 'artist' or 'writer' makes some people want to vomit... But still... There is stuff to be said on the subject…
The Great Procrastinator
Ask any writer and they'll tell you: there is only one thing that is harder than writing, and that is the act of sitting down to write in the first place. This is why writers are known as the biggest procrastinators in the arts. But why?
Because writing is hard, for one. It takes all we have, and more, to write something. And our bodies are smart. They don't want to be cajoled into spending that kind of energy just 'cause. But there is another reason, a more pervasive one...
There is a lot of pressure that comes with writing. When you write, no matter what you write—you're exposing yourself. You're saying: Hey! It's me! I have something to say! Please listen to me! Sometimes it gets worse. Sometimes what you are saying is: This is me. Come, watch me be naked. Please don't judge me too harshly.
On Pressure
I think of pressure as inversely proportional to writing productivity. Pressure serves a role, of course. It is a great motivator, a great source of energy, to get things done when facing a time constraint, or when what is motivating you to do the thing you are doing is extrinsic to you (i. e. doing something for money.)
But when there is no immediate time constraint (i. e. writing a novel you know will be ready at least two years from now), and when the motivation is intrinsic to you (if you're not internally motivated to write, then you shouldn't be doing it at all), pressure just gets in the way.
Back to the inversely proportional relationship between pressure and writing—increase the pressure, less writing gets done. Decrease the pressure, and you feel at ease, and the creativity starts flowing, and you feel safe to expose yourself, expose your true self with all its quirks and warts, and well... more writing gets done.
There are ways one can lower this pressure. Most of them are very context-dependent, specific to each writer. But there are also a few principles that have helped me a lot and might help you too.
Don't focus on word-count, focus on time spent sitting at your desk.
Look at it this way: if you focus on achieving a daily word-count, you're setting yourself up for failure. Quite literally. Because in each second you spend not having reached the, say, 1000 words of the day, your body and mind will be in a state of failure. Now, if instead, you focus on just sitting there and spending 1-hour writing, no matter the result, even if you write no words whatsoever—every second of that is done in a state of success. No matter what happens, as long as you just sit there for the pre-arranged amount of time, you've succeeded. Your mind and body can tell the difference, trust me.
Or just look at this Ryan Holiday quote:
I once read a letter where Cheryl Strayed kindly pointed out to a young writer the distinction between writing and publishing. Her implication was that we focus too much on the latter and not enough on the former. It’s true for most things. Amateurs focus on outcomes more than process. The more professional you get, the less you care about results. It seems paradoxical but it’s true. You still get results, but that’s because you know that the systems and process are reliable. You trust them with your life.
Be proactive, not reactive.
Take control of your own life. It is you, after all, who decides when you want to write. Make the decision to write, just as you make the decision to work-out three times a week, or to sleep eight hours a night (which you should, by the way.)
And decide before-hand, ideally. Look at your week and think: when can I write? Choose a start time and an end time, too. Then, try to repeat that as often as you can.
It doesn't matter when you write although there are better times than others. It doesn't matter for how long, either. What matters is that you decide to do it.
I'm not asking you to ignore inspiration (which is a real thing). What I'm asking you is to not let inspiration rule your creative life. If inspiration strikes you—great. Stop what you're doing and take a moment. Pull out your phone, or a notepad and write whatever insight you just got until the inspiration leaves you. Because it will; it never lasts for long. Think about these sudden strikes of creative genius as gifts from the gods above, unpredictable, unannounced, underserved. Then leave those notes aside. You'll get to use them in your next pre-planned writing session.
But how does all of this lower the pressure? There is something inherently powerful about being proactive, for one. But there is also the fact that taking the reins of your writing practice allows you to...
Build A Routine Around Your Writing Practice
In other words: Treat writing like a habit. Habits last. Habits, you can improve upon.
Look at Rafa Nadal, who just last Sunday won his 13th title at Roland Garros. His matches are riddled with tiny habits and routines that build up to a bigger habit—that of being one of the best tennis players of all time. Before every point, he carries out exactly the same motions. In every court-side change, he drinks his water and positions the bottles in a very specific way by his bench. Every. Single. Time. OCD? Crazy? Maybe. Smart, I would say. What exactly is he doing? He is tricking his mind into ignoring all distractions, all previous thoughts. He is forcing his attention back to the task at hand—that of playing great tennis.
So, be in the habit of writing. Then, build a series of smaller habits around your practice, ones you can repeat easily every time you sit down to write and that will put you in the right frame of mind, that lowers the pressure.
For example: drink a glass of water, then pour yourself some coffee. Sit at your desk—don't begin your writing yet—take a breath. Drink a sip of your coffee, adjust your chair. Now open your writing app (or whatever you use to write). Take a breath. Say "Go" inside your head, and start working. Or not. Just remember Neil Gaiman's rule: during this time you set aside, you're allowed to either write or do absolutely nothing at all. It's your choice.
These sessions can be 3-hours long, starting the moment you wake up and after you take a shower; or they can be 25 minutes long, after dinner with your family and just before bed. It doesn't matter. What matters is that these sessions look as identical as they possibly can, day after day. This will make it so when you do get home after work, and eat dinner, and think the last thing you can possibly have the energy for doing right now is writing, your body will automatically get into that I'm writing now mode we all know and love.
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That's it for today! Have a great weekend.
Best,
Matias.