writing – angst

Writing slowly

/ Tracy Abell / 40 Comments

Sometimes it’s easy getting caught up in envy for other writers’ processes, especially the Stephen King-esque writers who hammer out manuscripts at an astonishing rate.  

Last night I found out (again) why I’m not that kind of writer.  I was feeling frustrated and anxious about the scene I was writing (or as [info]idaho_laurie so aptly put it, I felt twitchy) until I went back a few pages to where the writing felt good and then, with a running start, read to what I’d just written. 

It took a couple reads but then the problem was suddenly so obvious.  And the fix was very easy.

Now, if I’d caved into those demon voices that ridicule me for producing just hundreds of words per day, that taunt me because I’m nearing forty-five and still haven’t sold a book, that admonish me to get the lead out and produce something marketable, well, I’d either have curled up in the fetal position or started pounding the keyboard in a panicked attempt to write pages and pages just to prove I was a real writer writing a real book in a take that, demon voices! kind of way.

I’m so glad I didn’t.  I know from past experiences that it’s so much harder for me to rescue a book from tangents and mis-placed emphasis than it is to write at a slow but solid pace.

I need to remember that this fall when I participate in JoNoWriMo+1.5; a couple hundred solid words per day, every day, is a perfectly fine way to draft a book.

 

With a little help from William Faulkner and my friends

/ Tracy Abell / 55 Comments

This morning

[info]dotificus

 pointed out that I was leaving rather sad writing-related comments on journals.  She wisely advised I stop beating myself up about my lack of progress and instead, give myself room to write whatever comes to mind.  To relax and breathe.  Or just be stuck.  Her concern brought tears to my eyes.

A few minutes after reading her comment, I left for my weekly somatic experiencing appointment.  When I got there, I told my therapist I was weepy this morning because I was so frustrated and stuck on a project.   In talking about it further, I realized a huge part of my anxiety is the worry that I’d “talked” myself out of this book.  The thing is, I learned the hard way (as in having to abandon a really great project) that I cannot talk about a book until I have at least a first draft written because each time I say something about the book, it’s like letting air out of a balloon.  Pretty soon the book/balloon is flat and lifeless and I have no desire to play with it anymore.  I do have a first draft of this book but it’s different than the others I’ve written.  More plot oriented than character-driven.  Since I’m not as comfortable with plot as characterization, I started talking with Zippy about plot issues.  Well, he suggested stuff and we talked and talked about my book, and at the time I thought it was really cool to have that connection and collaboration.  Now I’m not so sure.

In discussing all this loss-of-energy-on-this-project stuff with my therapist, I realized I needed to stop talking about this project.  Then she recommended visualizing a circle around me and my project, one that keeps that creative energy close but also prevents anyone/anything from interfering in my process.   So I closed my eyes and did that (somatic experiencing is all about looking within and tracking physical/emotional sensations.  I know it sounds wacky but it’s been a lifesaver for me).  She asked if there was anyone I wanted to stand guard on my circle, to help me keep out the interference.  I chose William Faulkner.  As I visualized my circle with ol’ William standing guard, I felt relief.  Not one hundred percent relief, but some.

Then we talked more about the panic and doubts I’ve had about this project and I told her I felt like I was in a free fall.  She asked if there was anyone I’d trust to grab onto me, to stop my fall.  I immediately visualized a human chain of writer friends, all of you, reaching out to grab my hand.  As I pictured all of us linked by our hands, I thought about how you all understand what I’m going through, how we all cheer each other on, and celebrate the good moments and mourn the bad.  I thought about how this publishing trek is so tough and competitive but how everyone here is willing to help out the other writers. 

I got teary again.  The good kind of teary.  In that moment, I felt safe and confident of my writing ability.  The panic and doubts were gone.  I wasn’t alone in my crazy shame spiral.  You’ve all been there.  You know what it’s like and you all do your best to drag fellow writers out of that icky place.

Since this morning’s appointment, I’ve had a couple more moments of loathing and doubt.  But each time I visualized my connection with all my writer friends, and felt calm again.  Later I sat at my desk, closed my eyes and basked in the quiet

[info]lurban

 wrote about in today’s post.  And you know what?  I wrote 700 words. 

I appreciate each of you so very much.  Thanks for all you give.

 

Things I (Hope) I Know

/ Tracy Abell / 29 Comments

I’m trying hard to stick to my THINGS I KNOW list as I figure out story/plot issues before starting my second draft.

Yesterday I added a bunch of details to the list, including one that raised the stakes.

Yesterday I felt pretty good about the process.

Today?

Today I’m reading through pages of notes I wrote during the first draft. 

I’m back to those feelings of panic and overwhelm.

Which ideas are usable?

What should I ignore?

I read those notes and lose all focus as my brain scampers off on some A.D.D.-inspired field trip.  Maybe this should happen.  Maybe that.  How about such and such? 

Someone needs to give my brain a good talking to.