A Revelation (Or At Least Today's Excuse)

"....when you watch your work unfold day by day, piece by piece, there's no escaping cause and effect. Simply put, what you did got you here, and if you apply the same methods again you will likely get the same results again. This is true not just for being stuck but for all other artistic states as well -- including highly productive states. As a practical matter, ideas and methods that work usually continue to work. If you were working smoothly and now you are stuck, chances are you unnecessarily altered some approach that was already working perfectly well. (For years I set aside daytime for artmaking and evenings for writing; at some point I reversed that schedule and months passed before I realized my writing had dried up -- not for lack of ideas but because it turns out I process words better at midnight than at midday.) When things go haywire, your best opening strategy might be to return -- very carefully and consciously -- to the habits and practices in play the last time you felt good about the work...."

From Art and Fear by David Bayles and Ted Orland

Yesterday I had a bunch of appointments that tied me up most of the morning. Since I didn't want to miss a day of productivity, I grabbed my Alphasmart and headed for Starbucks, with the idea I could snag at least an hour of writing before my day got going.

Now normally, Starbucks is the oasis of creativity for me. It's my own personal Bat Cave. (The subject best saved for another blog) But yesterday, I couldn't do a thing. I managed maybe three or four paragraphs before my hour was up and I had to leave. As a result, I spent the rest of the day beating myself up for being unproductive. Worse, I kept saying "I have to write" only to discover that, every time I attempted, the words were even more blocked.

Finally giving up, and having declared myself a lazy, no-talented slug, I picked up a book, and lo and behold, read the above passage. Suddenly, yesterday's lack of productivity made perfect sense. Of course I couldn't write. Yesterday morning I was rushed, almost manic in my quest to steal 50 minutes of writing time. Squeezing in a few minutes at the keyboard, and the desperation to do so, killed my creative energy. I needed my regular routine, my regular schedule, in order to be productive. Grabbing a few minutes here and there is not how my creative brain works. I've always likened my writing process to digging in a cave with a melon-baller. My brain needs time to warm up; to dig around in the dark until it finds the light. Yesterday's quickie session didn't allow me to get past the digging.

Every so often, a writer will talk about time management, and inevitably someone will suggest writing in short bursts. "Carry your Alphasmart or notebook with you," they'll say, "and write while your kids are at soccer practice" or "while waiting at the doctor's office." For years, I tried this, and with the exception of some very rare occasions, failed to be productive. It took until last night before I realized why.

Does this mean that you should never "squeeze in" writing? Absolutely not. Some days "squeezing in" is the best we can muster -- particularly if we've got husbands and children and outside jobs that demand time. And for some, "squeezing in" is highly productive. Once upon a time, I could do amazing things giving a notepad and a commuter rail trip into Boston.

But what I did learn is to honor my process and, more importantly, not to beat myself up, when that process is disrupted. If the best I can muster is three paragraphs, then that's three paragraphs I didn't have before. At least I have something to jump off of when I go back to writing today.

And that, in the end, is better than nothing.