Work avoidance is one of the major paradoxes of the writing profession. Generally, writers want to write (or want to have written), but all too often we find ourselves doing anything else but. We’ll mow lawns, do the dishes, polish silverware–anything to keep from facing the blank page. At the same time we know we eventually have to get to work, so we come up with all sorts of strategies for forcing ourselves to the keyboard.
Sometimes a single strategy works beautifully for an entire writer’s career (for instance: for over 40 years Fred Pohl wrote four pages a day no matter what, after which he was free to polish all the silverware he wanted), but in my own case I’ve discovered that any particular strategy only works for a couple of months before I learn to subvert it. As a result I have to keep inventing new ones. I’ve come up with quite a few (some of which I’ve stolen from other people), which I offer here for anyone who cares to try them. They’re not in any particular order, so don’t feel compelled to work your way down the list. Just try the ones that seem interesting, and remember that some of them won’t work for you at all. Also, while some of them are mutually exclusive, most of them aren’t, so you can mix & match all you like.
I’ve needed strategies in my life, from time to time, to keep myself writing. Over the past few weeks/months/years/whatever those have fallen off a bit — or, at least, I have. I used to write everyday, anywhere from two to six hours but usually at least three or four, without much difficulty or need for strategies. I won’t say I was as productive (I wasn’t) but the time was spent writing.
As it stands now, I’m doing well if I find an hour, cobbled from various fiteen minute increments here and there throughout the day.
I’ve been reading a lot lately about a few writers, ones who spent their lives much as I do — in day jobs, making as good as they can in the real world, and writing when time permitted. Invariably, they all got up early in the morning to write. That was when they got it done. Professors, marketing execs, stay at home moms, salesmen, dock workers — stealing time at the beginning of their day to do something with paper and ink before heading out to class or the office, store, docks, kitchen.
I’ve always been a late night writer, doing my writing after the day is done, the kids are in bed, the dishes are put away, phone calls have been made, homework finished, and everyone (but me) has gone to bed. That worked well enough a few years back, but not so much any more.
Maybe it’s the past few years taking their toll, maybe it’s working harder and more intensely during the day than I ever have before, maybe it’s just that I’m getting old . . . but I’m tired, more than usual. And my nights aren’t as late as they used to be, my mind not as sharp, my motivation not as compelling.
So. I’ll try setting my alarm clock. See how that works out.
(You can read Oltion’s strategies here. There’s some good stuff there.)