Two posts ago, I talked about how I evaluate my writing practice/journey/whatever you want to call it. I use a few different metrics to determine if I’m growing as a writer, satisfied with my growth trend, or feel like I’m floundering in some way or another. In a perfect world, I would always “pass” my evaluation with flying colors. I’d always be happy with how writing is going. I’d always be growing.
But that’s not reality. So, what do I do when everything is going wrong? We’re going to break this down into several blocks, beginning with, how is everything going wrong? Unfortunately, there are myriad ways that things can go wrong. Over this and two more posts, I’m going to speak on three of my top issues and how I deal with them. If you have any questions or have a specific issue that you’d like to see me address, drop a comment or shoot me a message. Without further ado, let’s get into it.
Problem number one: I don’t have time or energy to write, and I’m struggling to write or perform any writing-related tasks.
We can call this a lot of things: block, lack of motivation, disinterest. “Blocked” might look like sitting down to write and having no ideas, or otherwise feeling stuck on where you are in the project. Sometimes you know exactly what to write, but the words refuse to flow, and you just can’t get excited about how the story is moving.
Occasionally, the block has little or nothing to do with the writing itself. There are times when I get so overwhelmed with things going on in the rest of life that I have no creativity or emotional energy left to create, and so I keep pushing writing farther and farther down my to-do list, until I finally look up weeks or months later and realize I’m totally off track.
I find any and all variations of this problem to be the most frustrating issues, because there’s a psychological and emotional aspect to it that I can’t always quantify. The mood isn’t right. The vibes are off. There’s a little something that’s missing.
Fortunately, this hasn’t happened to me in a while, and there are a couple of reasons why.
- I notice when the feeling is coming.
Sometimes the block comes out of nowhere, but oftentimes you can see it coming down the pipeline if you pay attention. Are you starting to drag a little bit when headed to writing sessions? Are you constantly pushing it lower on your priority list? Are your sessions taking longer to get started, and you can’t wait to walk away from your desk?
The moment you see this happening, change something. I switch projects. I start a new project and work on two in tandem. I write in a new place. I call up my sister and plan to write and drink mimosas together. I journal about the feeling and assess what’s driving it (Boredom? Busyness? Lack of plot?) so I can get to the root of the issue.
The best block is one you never get.
- If I’m already in it, I muscle through.
Here’s the thing. I can hate writing with every fiber of my being, and I can still make myself write. It’s just like doing the laundry, going to work, and getting your oil changed. There are things we simply have to do as functioning humans, whether we want to or not, and you can make writing one of those things.
This works best if you catch the block early on, before it really sinks into you. When you notice the drag, set yourself some reasonable expectations – show up to your workspace and actually write for twenty minutes (set a timer, do not stop typing), then move on. Sit and work on your plot for ten minutes of focused work, then move on. Keep your expectations firm but kind, and just keep showing up until the block moves on.
- Take a structured break.
Sometimes it’s too late. The block has you by the neck, you’re frustrated and overwhelmed, you hate the sight of your computer, and you’re contemplating just offing the entire cast of characters.
Take a break. It’s not the end of the world. There’s a point of forcing it that hits diminishing returns, and you’re better served taking a moment to regroup. But don’t just close your computer and say you’ll come back to it eventually. You’re taking a structured break. That means you’re going to set a time limit on the break. Two to four weeks usually serve me well. I will literally put a note into my calendar app that says when I have to go back to work.
In the meantime, if I can pinpoint specific issues within the project that spurred the block, I’ll keep them percolating in the back of my mind. I keep a doc to stick in notes and musings and little ideas as they come to me concerning the project.
When the rest period is up, I come back in, reassess the project, make a plan to implement changes, and then go from there. If the reassessment leaves you with more questions than answers, don’t give up. Find a friend or a beta reader or even hire a developmental editor who can look over the project for you and give you a detailed and specific report. You can continue your structured break while they look it over.
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All of this deals with having the time but not the will to write. But what happens when you just can’t seem to find the time? What if you have very little time and never seem to use it to its full potential/the project isn’t moving in a fashion you consider timely?
We can beat ourselves up with the old “everyone has the same 24 hours in a day” nonsense, but that’s not the whole of it, and we all know that. There are a lot of things that simply have to be prioritized above writing when it’s your hobby or side job, and stealing from your sleeping hours isn’t a sustainable answer.
I want to focus on taking whatever time you have – whether that’s five hours a day, five hours a week, or one hour a week – and getting peak usefulness out of it. We’re covering a lot of ground here but stay with me!
When I did the National Novel Writing Month challenge for the first time in 2009, I was a homeschooled high school student. I wasn’t doing any sports and had no commute anywhere. All I did was school, my house chores, and write. I was writing 12+ hours a day. I blew through the required 50k words and then some.
In 2010 when I did it again, I was in my first year in college, working, and driving all over creation. Those 12-hour writing sessions were a thing of the past, and I still blew through the required 50k and then some, this time writing in crazed 15- and 20-minute sessions throughout the day whenever I had a free moment.
Good writers write, and good writers write a lot. If you can’t do it in hours-long stretches, then you have to do it in sprints, and you have to make every second count.
If you have, for instance, thirty minutes on a Saturday afternoon, then don’t wait until Saturday afternoon to decide what you’re writing or where. Write a plan in advance for where you’re going to sit, what you’re going to work on, and how many words/scenes/chapters you want to write. And get very specific. If the goal is 1,000 words in 30 minutes, that means you’re writing 34 words a minute or faster for the entire time. (You can Google “typing speed test” and see how fast you are!). Know that you’re going to push yourself to stay on target and not let yourself off the hook.
This works for thirty minutes, fifteen minutes, and even ten minutes. I’ve done five-minute writing sessions right before jumping into bed at night. Just sit and write as fast as you can for the allocated time, and then stop and go on with the rest of your responsibilities.
If you’re someone who edits as they go, it can be more difficult to make use of smaller writing sessions. Fifteen minutes goes by in the blink of an eye if you’re fighting with a certain sentence or pausing to use a thesaurus two or three times. Some people swear by editing as they go. I’m a chaos cannon and could never. But I’m not going to tell you that it’s not the way to go. I’m just going to ask you this question – can you write faster if you just write forward?
The answer is yes.
It’s not about writing faster for the sake of writing faster. We’re not factories churning out books as fast as we can. It’s about finishing something that’s important to you (the book) in the limited time that you have.
If you truly can’t make yourself stop, then give yourself a compromise. Write quickly and forward for twenty minutes, then give yourself ten minutes to rewrite at the end. There has to be more writing than rewriting. Don’t make it fifty-fifty. Focus on getting it written. A perfect chapter one is not a book. An imperfect book is still a book. There will be plenty of rewriting to be had in draft two.
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That was a lot to take in, so let’s pause and review. If you haven’t already, assess yourself. Where are you sitting in the process? Good? Awesome! Keep reading this series so you have some tools in your toolbox if you run into trouble. Starting to flounder? Dig in deeper and find the issue.
If the issue is a block, find what section of this post best describes your problem, and then focus on the strategies there to move forward from it.
Regardless of where you are in the process, this is your assignment: set yourself a timer (fifteen minutes is a great target, but you can do more if it’s reasonable for you) and write without stopping. Don’t stop to think. Don’t stop for a snack. Just write.
When you’re done, don’t read back over it, don’t rewrite it, don’t even think about it. Just put it away, get up, and go about your day.
When it comes down to it, writing is as simple as that.
