the myth of the productive writer: on slow creativity
forcing your creativity versus listening to it. plus, a note on turning off the 'noise' all around us
Like every good second-born daughter who’s a little too much like her father, when I’m told to do something, my instinct is to do the opposite. (Love you, Dad.)
In this season of writing, I have been learning about the writing process and perfectionism. Consistently, I come across advice that says to establish a consistent writing routine. Thirty minutes before work. Thirty after. Just weekends. Maybe during lunch?
The more I try to plan it out, the less I’ve written and more I’ve felt confined.
I’m Type A. I love a deadline. Goals make my world go round. I even had one for my writing—finish my first draft by the end of April. Spoiler alert: that’s probably not happening.
Last year, I completed my first-ever first draft in two months. I was living at home, working remotely, and had little else to do in the evenings. I’d take care of the dogs then go up to my room, put on my headphones, and write for hours. I’m talking about three hour segments, writing until it’s dark out, breaking for dinner then running back. It was an all encompassing and joyful process.
But life looks different now. That doesn’t mean it’s bad, just an adjustment.
I still work remotely, but now from an apartment where my desk is right next to my bed. I live with a friend, and we spend our evenings together. I’m building a new life in a new state. I’m trying to make a community. My priorities have shifted.
The evenings spent inside my brain have been replaced by plans with friends, watching a show with my roommate, running errands, going outside. The time available to write is chopped, and when I do have the time (and have it planned), I resist. I’m tired, especially after staring at screens all day. Sometimes, I’d rather just read before my roommate gets home.
Above all, you cannot force your creativity.
My creativity is like my breath of fresh air; it tastes of freedom. My type A, list organized self is forced to sit down and watch the beauty around us. Some days I want to write. Other days, I want to read, or paint, or walk. When I force creativity, I don’t like what comes out.
What I’ve been trying out recently is a more flexible evening where I get what I need to done, but the way I go about it differs depending on what I need that day. Above all, I aim to move my body, write something, eat dinner, and wind down with my roommate every evening.
Last night, I itched to write. I had an idea for a short story, so I wrote for a whole hour before switching to my manuscript to work through a tricky conversation I’d been avoiding. Tonight, I’m planning a run and a quick Pilates session. After that, I’ll finish this article but won’t have time for further writing. (Running always fills me with energy.)
And maybe tomorrow? I’ll finally paint the last piece in my workbook I’ve been thinking about.
Another recent realization is that working on more than one project at once is actually helpful. Currently, I have the short story and the manuscript. I had been spiraling with perfectionism surrounding the manuscript’s first draft. By working on something new, I got out of my head and found that mental door to my creativity. Now, instead of obsessing over one project, my brain splits its attention between two, which leaves less room for overthinking.
My point is that yes, some writers are incredibly productive, but that doesn’t mean you have to be. That doesn’t mean you aren’t a “real” writer.
Your creativity is yours.
Some days I don’t write at all. Some days I can’t wait to. Some days I sit down, and my mind goes completely blank. None of that means I’ve failed.
There is such beauty in slow creativity. In allowing it to pull from deep inside you, somewhere that feels sacred, and fall onto the page. Writing is yours. Above all, it is yours. Sometimes, you just need to turn off the noise around us and listen to it.
That’s all for today. Much love
Izzy
Love you too Izzy! :-)