I wrote 308 words today.
308 words. It’s not a lot, is it? And yet, it is. It really, really is. It’s the first 308 words of fiction I’ve written for months. The deadline is in a week and a half. And here’s the kicker: I can’t write stories which I started months ago. By then, I’ve played it all out in my head, I’ve told people about it, it’s done and I’m bored and I want to chase another dog’s tail.
Up until today, I’ve had an obsessive approach when it comes to writing. I’ve had to be in the perfect mood at the perfect time with no interruptions, and then I can just blitz over a thousand words at once. And typically, when I’ve written it all down, I’ll feel great for about… half an hour? And then the doubt sets in, deep and unrelenting. I read it back and, you know, it really isn’t that great, it has a lot of flaws and it needs a full rewrite. But by then I’ve already told the story, I’m bored of it. And so I let it rot in my stories folder until I come across it two years later and go, “Hey, that wasn’t actually so bad. What a waste.”
Blog posts are different, of course, because they’re non-fictional. You don’t need to think up plot, or characters, or a narrative. It’s not nearly as challenging, right? Except I used to approach blog posts the same way too, remember? One blog post every month and a half, not much in the way of editing, no working to deadlines; all natural.
And then I made myself write two blog posts a week.
A blog post will typically hit around 500 to 750 words, sometimes more, and sure, sometimes I don’t feel like writing them. But I’ve given myself a deadline, and I’ve committed to it on a public platform that I use as an example of my capabilities of a writer, so it’s a real deadline. And so far I’ve not missed a day in four months, besides the time WordPress failed to publish a scheduled post, and that came the day after. So why should writing fiction be any different?
I have been attending a university course about writing professionally (although many would argue that’s not possible), but I’ve still been approaching it as a hobby. Something that I only do when I really, really feel like doing it. And that not only leaves long stretches between the times that I write, it also doesn’t give me any time to get used to a particular style of writing or to really pledge myself to a piece of fiction. This latter point is something I have real trouble with, but as I’ve gone over in my gaming blog of all places, I’ve found that I’m slowly regaining the ability to focus on one thing and shut out all the others. It’s a little difficult, but it’s so much better.
I’m able to write hundreds upon hundreds of words and create worlds, and bring people into them. It’s a gift. It’s the one thing I’m remotely any good at, and lately it’s been like… a small aspect of my personality. I’ve been afraid to discipline myself into pushing that ability, in case I… what? Stop enjoying it? In case it becomes work? Well, aren’t you supposed to do what you love for your work? I admitted earlier that sometimes I don’t feel like writing these blog posts. And yet, when we truly get down to it, I’m not going anywhere. I love doing this, and I savor every reader. I may not exactly have a huge following, but this place truly does give me a sense of purpose, and it’s fun to tweak my brain for arrangements of words and topics.
Education has allowed me to break down other works of fiction, pick up on intertextuality, on subtle foreshadowing, extended metaphors, and it has enriched my experience of the world. There are times when this feels more like a burden that a blessing, but really, when it comes down to it, this deep-seated feeling of stagnancy and lack of purpose is probably born of my failure to sit and grab these threads of inspiration and write them down, even if it feels like work. I’ve been waiting for some shot of inspiration to come to me before I start writing, but I feel like sometimes it’s the other way around; you need to try before the inspiration comes. Write shit. Publish it proudly, then hide it away a year later. But do it often, and be relentless. Everything I’ve been avoiding.
There’s probably deeper reasons to me avoiding writing, stuff which doesn’t have anything to do with writing itself… but stuff ’em. To quote the logo of a certain company, just do it. Not that easy, sure, but if I sit here and wait for something to come to me then I’ll be the living incarnation of a monkey at a typewriter, and I’ll die of old age before Shakespeare comes to me. No. It’s time for a different approach.
I’ve written 308 words of fiction today. But this blog post is 914 words long, and New Year’s Resolve was written just an hour or so ago. So to hell with demotivation. You don’t need to feel motivated to continue trying, and if you don’t continue trying then you’ll fall into demotivation faster than gravity can pull your ass to earth.
Perpetually Perturbed 