Dumbo's Feather :: Writing even when your rituals fail you

If you know me at all, you've heard about my writing ritual and very likely discussed yours. And if you've been around this blog awhile you know that for the most part I think that writing rituals are a lot of malarky.

At the very least, they are only helpful until they become a crutch.  The only thing that matters should be getting the words going on the page. Nothing should help that process so much that it gets to a point where the writing stops if you're without it.
 

Of course if you've been around that much you also know that I am a coffee drinker with a writing problem. (Apologies to the ghost of Brendan Behan.)  It's an intrinsic part of my writing life. The first amazing sip that runs through my brain in the morning, turning the lights on and starting the machinery, the warmth of the ceramic cup in my hands (I hate cardboard cups), the heady aroma of Coffea Arabica wafting through my sinuses as I sit and contemplate the next sentence, the next index card, the next plot point...

Despite all my warnings, all my deep contemplations about the ways in which habit becomes ritual, becomes crutch, becomes problem, I've allowed coffee to slip under the radar.  I've even formed an attachment to the pauses occasioned by the need to go to the counter for a fresh cup or to the kitchen to make a fresh pot.

I've even been known to refer to it as "a cup of clever."
So what happens when I don't have that?

I'm about to find out.

Two weeks ago I had a conversation with a chalk drawing and at the end of the day was told that the medicines keeping the chalk drawings away didn't mix well with coffee. I'd sipped my last cup for at least four weeks.

At first I shrugged and said "oh well".  The headaches only lasted a day or two.  But before I knew it, two weeks had passed and I hadn't had a thought that I felt was clever enough to be worth writing down.

Now there is a blank page and a blinking cursor and the deep dread of having nothing to fill the space. Because I've had to give up my morning cup of clever and nothing I've come up with has yet been worth blemishing that perfect white space.

Frailty, thou art writer.

So all of you who have heard me rant at you about how you "can't write" until you've just the right moleskine, a special pen, a particular chair, a specific song, an old typewriter, a specific computer program, or whatever... now is your chance to gloat.  

Go ahead, I earned it.

But you only get to gloat until I sort out how to get focused and get the words on the page anyway. Because this is the world of "Writer heal thyself". There are only so many hours in the day and I refuse to spend any more of them feeling sorry for myself.

"Awake" is overrated anyway. 

Muses are annoying prima donnas.  You have to be able to write without them. And you have to be able to write without all the rest too. The comfy chairs, the ideal table in the perfect cafe, the pen that fits your hand just so... they will all slip in when we least expect them to. And when they fail, we have to keep writing anyway. 

Every day. Without fail. Do the work.

I know that, no matter what the mouse in my hat tells me, the feather's not magic.  I could darn well fly all along. These are the days when discipline and practice pay off.  My butt goes in the chair, my words go on the page. With a borrowed pen on the arm of a patient bystander if necessary.

Whatever you do, whatever happens to you... Just. Keep. Writing.

Please excuse me. I just thought of something to fill that blank page that's been mocking me from the other window.

Howard Carter Saved the World :: Writing As Performance Art Redux

I have often described writing as the fine art of talking to yourself.  And many times, that's what it feels like: a writer goes into a corner with his or her computer and a few months later, comes out bearing a ream of paper and a couple of new nervous tics.

I prefer the idea that writing is a conversation between writer and reader.  A conversation that starts with the writer and then is gifted to readers to carry on with on their own.  Writing Howard Carter Saves the World has cemented that idea in my mind forever.  For me, this is the first time that this conversation has happened in real time.  Getting more or less constant feedback from people who were reading along as I wrote was mind-blowing at times.  At times, it resembled improv or stand-up more than writing.  I was able to "read the crowd" and react when something wasn't working or if a joke fell flat.

That's a gift.

It's also a bit nerve-wracking.  Sometimes we need that insulating blanket of time between the day the words hit the page and the day the reader reacts to them.  I gave myself some of that by pointedly not looking at the Google pageviews.

Sometimes, it's better not to know.  The idea of an audience was sufficient.  That much of the insular relationship between writer and words I felt it necessary to protect.

If you were reading along, I thank you.  If you haven't read it, there's still time.  If you want to wait for it to pass under the editor's pen, I certainly understand that too.

This has been a strange, sometimes harrowing, and always rewarding experience.  Writing the whole thing in public and posting it online as a serial gave me an entirely different relationship to the text -- even though it's still a first draft and a bit rough in places, it's a lot more polished than most first drafts have any right to be.

At times, it was like writing and publishing a new short story every couple of days.  And at other times I ran dry or ran aground and didn't know if I could keep going.  Knowing the audience was out there reading -- no matter how small or large it might be --  kept that next chapter coming.

And in the end, we saved the world.

Together.

It panned out to be about 95,000 words spread over 42 chapters, a prologue and an epilogue.  I predict that in revisions it will lose between 5,000 and 10,000 words, so some of what you've read will never make it to the final edition.  That's the way of things.


For now, rest well, citizens of the Earth!  The story is complete and your world is safe once more.  Howard Carter is getting a well-deserved rest before I hop in my time machine and revisit his tale for the next phase of its journey from daydream to finished book.  The poor kid's been through a lot!

If you were waiting until I was finished to read it, now's your chance!  I will very likely take it down sometime in May, which is when I will begin revising the manuscript to begin submitting to agents and editors.  Click the image below to be taken to the front page.

Implementation :: The Tools Are Not the Trade

Flashback Friday - This post first appeared 23 January 2010, revisiting a long-running discussion I've been having with myself on how ritualized my writing experience has become.  What if I had to give up coffee tomorrow?  The mind boggles. . .

---

Acknowledging that I'm at risk of painting with too broad a brush here I feel that I can say with assurance that on the whole, writers love rituals. Every writer's book and blog I've read talks about their ritual at some point, the ingrained habits that get them "into the zone". My writing certainly gains some sort of psychological homefield advantage when I'm writing in my "nest" or at a table in my favorite cafe.

I don't want to make it sound more metaphysical than it is, but there does seem to be some energy in those two places that agrees with me. At the very least, the effort seems greater if I write anywhere else. 


A lot is made of the implements that a writer uses and I'm no saint in this respect. I chortle periodically over some bit of trivia (like Wallace Stegner's typewriter) because it reinforces some portion of my own writing ritual. It's certainly easy to see how this can go from force of habit to becoming as superstitious about our rituals as any NHL Goalie, and slip from harmless habits into the realm of compulsive need. But I'm here to tell you that the tools are irrelevant. 


There's a tendency to get too precious about the creative act and obsess overmuch about the tools at the expense of the creation. Writer's blogs (like this one) abound with lengthy introspection on the mystique of writing, obsessing about the meditative stroke of the golden nib across a page or the percussive "ka-CHUNK" of the typewriter hammer striking the page. 


Ultimately, it's all baloney. At least insomuch as it's purely psychological, the writerly equivalent of Dumbo's feather. And I've found that as much as this psychological trick helps, it also it sets us up for writer's block. Ask yourself what happens when you lose the feather? Misplace your nice fountain pen or run out of ink for your funky old typewriter? Or (paying it back) if you can't get to your favorite writing spot? How do you keep writing on the road if your cafe table or easy chair or desk are a thousand miles away?

The only way to create and sustain a writing output is to make your writing a movable feast. Revel in your materials and your environment all you want, but always keep in mind that the pen isn't doing the writing, you are. Because in the end, writing is about sitting your butt in a chair in front of a computer, day after day and week after week, putting words on a page. 

No matter what we want to believe, it remains work, not a mystical act. I mentioned handing out Moleskine notebooks and pens at Christmas to those in my immediate vicinity who had mentioned to me the desire to write without actually writing anything. But with all due respect to my friends at Chronicle Books (the moleskine makers), a Mead spiral notebook would do just as well -- my current novel began on the back of a coffeestained napkin for heaven's sake. 


If the ideal tool or writerly setting frees your creativity in some fashion, go for it, but I'm here to tell you that the tools are irrelevant to the process and to get too wrapped up in them is to invite writers block at a crucial moment sometime in the future. 


Whether you're using a quill pen or a laptop, it's about getting from the first word to the last as effectively as possible. When the obsession with writing in a particularly "writerly" fashion becomes an obstacle to writing. Get used to writing in different places, at different times, with different instruments. The ideal time to write is when the ideas are fresh, with whatever comes to hand, whether it's a typewriter, a laptop or the pen you stole from the waitress.

But don't steal a pen from your waitress, it's not nice.

Implementation

Acknowledging that I'm at risk of painting with too broad a brush here I feel that I can say with assurance that on the whole, writers love rituals. Every writer's blog I've read talks about their ritual at some point, the ingrained habits that get them "into the zone". My writing is certainly some sort of psychological homefield advantage when I'm writing in my "nest" or at a table in my favorite cafe. I don't want to make it sound more metaphysical than it is, but there does seem to be some energy in those two places that agrees with me. At the very least, the effort seems greater if I write anywhere else. A lot is made of the implements that a writer uses and I'm no saint in this respect. I chortle periodically over some bit of trivia (like Wallace Stegner's typewriter) because it reinforces some portion of my own writing ritual. It's certainly easy to see how this can go from force of habit to becoming as superstitious about our rituals as any NHL Goalie, and slip from harmless habits into the realm of compulsive need. But I'm here to tell you that the tools are irrelevant. But there's a tendency to get too precious about the creative act and obsess overmuch about the tools at the expense of the creation. Writer's blogs (like this one) abound with lengthy introspection on the mystique of writing, obsessing about the meditative stroke of the golden nib across a page or the percussive "ka-chunk" of the typewriter hammer striking the page. Ultimately, it's all baloney. At least insomuch as it's purely psychological, the writerly equivalent of Dumbo's feather. And I've found that as much as this psychological trick helps, it also it sets us up for writer's block. Ask yourself what happens when you lose the feather? Misplace your nice fountain pen or run out of ink for your funky old typewriter? Or (paying in back) if you can't get to your favorite writing spot? How do you keep writing on the road if your cafe table or easy chair or desk are a thousand miles away? The only way to create and sustain a writing output is to make your writing a movable feast. Revel in your materials and your environment all you want, but always keep in mind that the pen isn't doing the writing, you are. Because in the end, writing is about sitting your butt in a chair in front of a computer, day after day and week after week, putting words on a page. No matter what we want to believe it's work, not a mystical act. I mentioned handing out Moleskine notebooks and pens this Christmas to those in my immediate vicinity who had mentioned to me the desire to write without actually writing anything. But with all due respect to my friends at Chronicle Books (the moleskine makers), a Mead spiral notebook would do just as well. My current novel began on the back of a coffeestained napkin for heaven's sake. If the ideal tool or writerly setting frees your creativity in some fashion, go for it, but I'm here to tell you that the tools are irrelevant to the process and to get too wrapped up in them is to invite writers block at a crucial moment sometime in the future. Whether you're using a quill pen or a laptop, it's about getting from the first word to the last as effectively as possible. When the obsession with writing in a particularly "writerly" fashion becomes an obstacle to writing. Get used to writing in different places, at different times, with different instruments. The ideal time to write is when the ideas are fresh, with whatever comes to hand - whether it's a typewriter, a laptop or the pen you stole from the waitress.

On The Media - On Books & Publishing...

Typically extensive and thorough coverage, featuring the likes of Neil Gaiman. Takes an interesting tack. . .

Work Habits II -- The Laptop

Because of NaNoWriMo, I've put 14,600 words into my laptop in less than five days... and boy are my hands tired! And I am reminded of those crazy videos they showed us back in high school... SPEED KILLS! Or in this case, causes carpal tunnel and a host of other problems that could put the pinch on your writing comfort right quick. After all, what good does it do to win the world by writing your novel if you're unable to sustain production and parlay it into a writing career?

"The reason is simple - with a fixed design, if the [laptop] keyboard is in an optimal position for the user, the screen isn't and if the screen is optimal the keyboard isn't. Consequently, laptops are excluded from current ergonomic design requirements because none of the designs satisfy this basic need." -Cornell University

In the picture I posted of my little writing nest, what's missing is a lap desk or pillow that would raise my workstation up to a level where neck and shoulders wouldn't have to slump at a disagreeable angle in order to type. (Being a touch-typist helps, because I can keep thundering away without looking at the screen as I am doing right now, but that it's not a panacea.) Every writer I know uses a laptop almost exclusively. According to statistics delivered at a recent distance-learning conference my friend Andy Duckworth is tweeting from, 88% of college students own (and presumably use) laptops. Carpal tunnel doesn't care if you're a Mac or a PC. The Cornell website I quoted above includes some great tips on keeping your body from suffering for your writing habit. CUergo is a site dedicated to helping Cornell students (and everyone else) survive the demands that working at a computer place on the human body.

• 5 Tips for Working on a Laptop
• Ergonomic Guidelines for arranging a Computer Workstation

I know that a lot of people tune out the moment I start talking about ergonomics. But if you want an extended writing career, it's going to require an appreciation for the demands you place on your body as you type furiously away in the passionate embrace of the muse. Nothing will make a laptop ergonomic. You can plug a keyboard and a monitor into the thing and use it like a regular compter, but that sort of defeats the whole purpose of having a laptop. So at least take those minimum steps unless you have more faith than I do in the future functionality of VOIP dictophones.

Work Habits (Writing nests redux)

As I said, I tend to spend most of my writing time in public places such as cafes and libraries. But when I'm home on the weekends, the reading and especially the research end of this operation continues apace... and that means a but of a writing nest. At some point, I fell out of the habit of writing at a desk. The large horizontal surfaces leant themselves to stacking. And stacking is the enemy of organization (I think I read that somewhere.) My preferred spot is a well-lit chair with a bookshelf nearby loaded with the books I need to be able to reference on a whim. Since we turned one room into a properhome library, I've plunked my chair into that room and arranged my most frequently used reference books and style manuals nearby. With NaNoWriMo starting tomorrow, I felt it was imperative that I have everything arranged and ready to go so that I can sit down and start to really generate some pages without the necessity of stopping to hunt down a reference book. Speed-noveling aside, this is generally a good writing habit to be encouraged anyway. (Incidentally, the only reason there are empty shelves in the photo is because the rest of my father's library has not yet arrived. I recently doubled my shelfspace to accomodate them.)

The Fourth "W"

The first three, of course, are who, what and when.

I am often told that setting is the soul of a novel. But what of the setting of writing of the novel? How important is location for the author? There are writers whose writing studio, garage office, garret apartment or table at the cafe are as important to their work as the gardens of Giverny were to Monet.

This morning I had a business meeting in the cafe where I usually write. This is a smallish cafe near the school where I work. It's communal, convivial, funky and all the things a coffee shop should be. It's also a bustling local hangout, an intersection of writers, musicians, book groups, poets, priests and politicians all of us bonding over a cup of caffeine.

One of my colleagues looked around and said: "You write in here?"

I looked at her for a moment and then shouted "Sorry, what?"

I'd never noticed before how noisy the place was. But to be honest, I like it. The first question I ever asked my readers was "Where do you write?" As I said then, I like to have people around when I write. Rather than a distraction, the boisterous atmosphere of the cafe reminds me not to be a hermit, that the writers who have a breakout hit and then retreat to an isolated cabin to compose the Great American Novel are usually never heard from again. The people around me inform the narrative, pour their energy into the words.

Because it's been awhile and I have hopefully attracted some new readers since I first asked this back in February I thought I'd ask again and expand upon it a bit...  

If you're a writer: "Where do you write?" Does the boisterous energy of the masses distract you? Or does it help you? What makes the ideal place for you to partake in the written word? Does the setting have to fit the piece? Or is it a mixed bag: does the crowd around you help with scenes that bustle, but take you out of your groove if you're trying to write something lonesome?  

If you're not a writer: "Where do you read?" Does the setting help or hinder the narrative? One of the first things I did when I got to Seattle was read everything I could find that was set here. If I'm traveling somewhere and I know there's a book on my shelf that's iconic for my destination, I'll grab it and take it with me. When I was driving across the US, I read 'Lost Continent' by Bill Bryson in the hotel room every night before bed. I discovered Michael Connelly's Harry Bosch novels when I was in Los Angeles. Leave your thoughts in the comments section! I really want to know.  

Today's Quote of the Day:

"Walk into any bookstore or library, calculate how many lifetimes the average person would need to read all the fiction contained therein. To think that one has anything to contribute, to any genre or tradition, takes genuine hubris."

-Laura Lippman Read in the Washington Post Online

Find Me Here

The Writing Life Part IV - Find a Place & Fill the Page

I prefer a laptop with a view...

A short garden tangent

It's important (to me, at least) to have someplace to enjoy the gardens and still get some writing done. This weekend I built this little courtyard in the front garden to have someplace to sit and sip coffee and enjoy a morning's writing. The brick is recycled from an old barbecue I tore down for a lady in return for the bricks. The pavers are just concrete pavers from the local home improvement store laid in a harlequin pattern. The whole thing is designed to be water-permeable to avoid runoff. (The angle looks odd because I'm standing up on a deck shooting down.) Naturally, the bare dirt will be flowers and herbs eventually. At the risk of going floral on you, the foliage to the left is a huge stand of beach roses (rosa rugusa) that are the centerpoint of the gardens. A hardy, lovely flower that requires minimal watering to survive and as an added bonus, the deer hate 'em! Can't wait to sit under that umbrella and begin work on the revisions to Mummer's Dance!