The Strange Habits of a Writer (this writer)
September 5, 2008 | 3 Comments
I can write to the ambient noise of a coffee shop, but not to music.
I prefer to write when other people are sleeping.
I like to write on holidays like Christmas and the 4th of July. Something about feeling that the rest of the world is otherwise engaged helps me.
Hard as I try, I cannot, cannot, CANNOT write according to a routine. God, I wish it were that easy. Every day is different and after more than 7 years of trying, I have just come to accept this. Although it’s a giant pain in the buttinski.
My attention works on a push-pull basis. I have to pay attention to my writing in short spurts, toward and away, toward and away. Looks like this: 42 minutes writing, check e-mail, make tea, 37 minutes writing, watch What Not to Wear, read something inspiring, write 91 minutes, catch up with Twitter pals, write 9 minutes, etc, etc. I don’t write in discrete segments, it seems to mix in throughout the day instead.
No, I don’t have ADD. My attention span circles its object, it doesn’t target it. It just doesn’t work in a straight line. That’s the way it is. I accept me the way I am. Finally.
Trying to write is like trying to get a virgin to sleep with you. “It’s okay baby. I love you now. I’ll love you tomorrow. It’s gonna be great. Don’t think about it so much. Now get over here.”
Even if I think I have nothing to say, if I just write one sentence, I can usually write one more. And then another. Can’t think too far ahead.
Every few hours, I do a handstand. (But not in Starbucks.)
Deadlines invite the muse, open-ended opportunity does not.
Sometimes I like to work at a desk, sometimes on the couch, sometimes in bed.
If I start writing the moment I wake up, things go well. If I do anything first (check email, kiss my husband good morning, tweet) it’s not so good.
When I’m around people too much, I can’t write. When I’m too isolated, I can’t write. Not too close, not too far. A magical dividing line that is constantly moving.
When I can’t think of anything to write, I read until the moment an inspiration hits and then I go straight to the page. Immediately. If I even stop to drink a sip of water, it disappears.
When I read what I’ve written and go, “Who wrote that? I don’t remember knowing that,” I know I’ve written something good.
categorized in: creativity
3 Comments
A lot of these are familiar (ambient noise vs. music, writing in spurts, particularly). For me, deadlines motivate me but not until they’re right on top of me. Then it’s a chaotic, stressful tangle of hours and I usually come in either just under the wire or, unfortunately, just over.
I love to write when there’s lots of activity and noise, especially newsy activity (I was great in the newsroom), but CANNOT cannot write if there’s any chance that any of that activity will ever be directed at me, or “need” me.
Nice post.
For creative writing I need my “writing shorts” (an old pair of Dickies denim shorts), some strong black coffee, sometimes some nag champa, occasionally some classical music (preferably something quiet, like Satie), and/or some good inspirational poetry (Milosz, Wright, and others).
But for “work” writing, just need a deadline and to be up against it.
Peace,
Bill
Yes, the pain and pressure of a deadline seems to also possess magical qualities. I wish it were otherwise. But on the eve of the deadline, the words seem to arise.
Tee, I also cannot write if there’s a chance anyone might talk to me or require my attention. I also find it disturbing if I get it into my head that someone is even thinking of me. I am so damned introverted, I seem to require psychic alone-ness, not just physical alone-ness! A huge deficit in my character.
On the music tip, there is one exception. I like to listen to “Sentimental Walk” from the Diva soundtrack of a gazillion years ago. I set it on “repeat” and listen to it over and over. It’s only a few minutes long. There is something about the tempo that matches me perfectly.
I blogged about it here: http://susanpiver.com/2008/01/23/music-for-writing/