Michelle Barker's Blog: Hearing Voices, page 10

Momentum

A friend of mine posted a photo on Facebook this morning with the caption: "If you spend too much time thinking of a thing, you'll never get it done. Make at least one definite move daily toward your goal." Now, the photo itself was of Bruce Lee and it wasn't exactly stellar, but the quote has been on my mind all day.

There is something to be said for momentum when it comes to writing, especially if you're tracking that mammoth creature, the novel. In his book, On Writing Stephen King has admitted that he doesn't take days off - not Sundays, not even Christmas. I'm beginning to understand why. Spending at least a half hour every day working on your project is almost like raising your novel's metabolism. Even when you do other things for the rest of your day, it's still there - however you want to think about it: simmering on the backburner, burning calories, producing new ideas.

Take a week off in the middle of a draft and you imagine you'd come back fresh. No, more like confused. What was I planning to do with that plotline again? And where did this character come from, I don't remember him.

After a complete draft: by all means, take a break. In fact, it's the best thing you can do. And not just one week; more like six. There's no other way you'll be willing to murder those darling sentences of yours unless you detach yourself from them as thoroughly as possible. But in the middle? Perish the thought. One definite move every day, a commitment of half an hour, 350 words, whatever you can handle. But every day, until it's done.

You can thank Bruce Lee.

Letting Go

Publishing a book has been a learning experience for me in many ways, from bending to the editing process to figuring out how to run a book launch. But perhaps the most important thing I've learned from this experience is the art of letting go.

There is a lot of grasping to writing a book. I find myself becoming attached to my own words, to the product of 'my book' and how many stars it gets from strangers. But the truth is, as soon as a writer's words are published, the writer must release his or her grip on them and let them fend for themselves. This is easier said than done.

It's a lot like watching your children grow up. At a certain point they do leave home and the experience is out of your hands. The harder you try to hold on, the more you suffer. The voice I listen to these days is the one that whispers, "Let go." And another one, the one with a sense of humour that tells me, "This isn't really such serious business, you know."

It isn't. My devotion is not, after all, to the end-product, but to the process of showing up to the page every morning. That's what needs to be taken seriously. If I'm going to listen to any voice, it should be the one that says, "Write!" Today, right now, put pen to paper and see what magic you can create.

Combating Monkey Mind

I'm suffering from monkey mind these days. My novel The Beggar King comes out in a matter of days and every morning I face lists: lists of e-vites and launch dates, possible reviewers and website updates. My mind is jumping around so much I find it hard to sit down and concentrate enough to write.

And speaking of writing - well, monkey mind is swinging from those trees, too. What should I work on today? Short stories? Poetry? A new novel? It's enough to drive a person crazy.

Then, yesterday, I stumbled upon an amazing writing blog by Chuck Wendig. It's called Terrible Minds, and it's fabulous. #22 of the 25 Things Every Writer Should Know: Quit Quitting. May I quote you, Chuck? "Stop abandoning your children." Whew, that was what I needed to hear. Even though I already knew it, of course. It's so easy to start a project - so much harder to see it through to the end.

My modus operandi these days has been to work on something until monkey mind squeaks, "It's getting too hard. Move onto something else." And I was moving on, and moving on - until I started to feel dizzy.

I've shut that voice off, made a radical decision to see my short story collection in-progress all the way through to the end. Don't mention another novel to me right now. Don't ask me about my poetry collection. I'm going to finish this!

The Inner Critic

Probably most people are familiar with this little voice in their head. If you write, you will know your Inner Critic intimately. Mine is small and thin and has a yellowing little goatee and wears a permanent sneer. He hates everything, tells me that whatever I've just written it won't be good enough and no one will want to read it anyway, and I should just take up knitting or clog dancing instead.

If you ever want to write, it is imperative that you silence this voice, shut him out(or her - maybe your Inner Critic sounds like your piano teacher). I do it over and over - almost every time I sit down to write.

The biggest help to this process for me has been Natalie Goldberg and her book Writing down the bones. Her advice? Don't think too much. Keep the hand moving. Go deep. Find the detail. Follow whatever thread your mind takes you on. Above all, don't be afraid.

Goldberg's method becomes something of a meditation (which is fitting, given her commitment to Zen). Writing for her is a spiritual practice.

Try it now. Pick up a pen, look out your window, and describe what you see - for 5 minutes, without stopping. Just write.