Three Tips For When The Writing Isn't Going Well: Writing Tip #2-- Squash The Troll
I meant to write this over four days ago, but my troll got in my way. We all have a troll. Especially creative people. My troll tells me a whole lot of things: I'm too busy, my work is crap, nobody's reading it.
"Why are you doing this?" it says. "It isn't getting you anywhere."
"This isn't real work. Real work is toil. Real work pays minimum wage."
I hate that thing.
Most of the time, I can squash it pretty good. But if I am busy, as I've been for the last few days, he finds a way to sneak in. Which is why I haven't finished this article. Even when I carved out some time to work on this, my troll said, "It's too late. Just grab a beer. Watch a show. Didn't you want to set up your canopy in the back yard?" (I did, by the way. It's great, but I didn't need to spend an hour in the middle of the day doing it.)
So why does that troll exist in the first place? Because creativity is difficult. How difficult? More difficult than one imagines. The Self-Publishing Podcast reiterated this in a recent episode (SPP is produced by Johnny B. Truant, David Wright, and Sean Platt--the Sterling and Stone team), when they were talking about their experience at Robert McKee's Story Seminars. McKee apparently said creative writing was more difficult than brain surgery (which is an exaggeration, of course), but I think he does have a point. For me, the difficult part of the creative process is the first draft of a novel. This was readily apparent to me last summer when I was writing my first go-round of my newest series, The Rabbit, The Jaguar, & The Snake. Some days the plot and dialog ran out of my fingers, and I completed a few thousand words. I was happy with those days. But there were just as many days when I spent three or four hours and only managed a few hundred words. I hadn't lost my nerve or my talent; I hadn't run out of ideas or gotten blocked. It was just really, really hard to come up with something that worked. And that's when the troll came knocking, and I spent almost as much time squashing it as I did writing (after I finished writing, though. I'm pretty good at ignoring it when I'm trying to be creative).
So why does this happen? Why does the troll creep out from under that mental bridge? For me, it's an offshoot of worrying about the quality of creative work before it's ready to be judged. The most common version of this is to create a cycle of diminish-than-procrastinate. (Interesting aside: I just read a Ted Talk transcript about the connection between procrastination and creativity that argues in favor of putting things off.) Like I said before, that troll loves to trick you into believing that any creative work is not as important as something else more immediately pressing or seen as traditionally more worthwhile. It whispers things like "this isn't making any money, so it's not worth it," or "don't you think you should be [insert chore here] rather than this?" or "nobody cares about your project, so why do it at all?" It harps upon all of the insecurities with which most artists struggle, even when the work is going well, even when it's even selling well. The troll doesn't really want you to make money or clean the house. It only wants two things: fear and self-doubt.
Or maybe you don't have a troll. Maybe you're just really busy. Writing is hard. It takes a lot of effort, and some days it is difficult to muster the energy to engage. If you work full time and/or have a family, that makes it all the more difficult.
So here's a little tip to squash the troll or muster that energy. I learned it from my friend, Bill Harris. Bill is a very successful artist. He's managed to create a career from doing something he loves, and on top of that, he's an all around great guy. When Bill doesn't feel like painting, here's what he does. He goes into his studio, picks up his brush, and he starts to paint.
It can be that simple.
So the next time your troll is whispering in your ear, or the next time you've worked all day, drove the kids all over the place, cooked dinner, cleaned up the house, and you just don't feel like working on anything else, remember that right then is when the troll is at its strongest. That's when it will slime its way into your ear and start telling you you're no good anyway, so why not just give up? Instead of listening to it, go over to wherever it is that you write, paint, draw, or compose, pick up your pen, your brush, your charcoals, your guitar, or fire up your laptop and DO SOMETHING. Even if its only for a half an hour, even if you make very little progress, even if you're not entirely satisfied with what you've written, do it anyway.
Your troll will crawl back under that bridge if you ignore it, and that's how you squash the thing.
Next up: Take some time off
Are you a fan of horror or post-apocalyptic fiction?
Join my email list and receive a free short story, audio book, and theme song for "Beta":
A monster terrorizes an isolated village in the mountains of Eastern Europe, draining the blood of its victims, leaving them frozen in the snow. The villagers hunt wolves, decapitate “vampires,” but the murders continue. As each new body is found, the residents grow more and more paranoid. The cobbler's son decides to investigate, putting himself in grave danger. Who will be next? Will it ever end?
Sign up at www.jamesnoll.net!
--JN
"Why are you doing this?" it says. "It isn't getting you anywhere."
"This isn't real work. Real work is toil. Real work pays minimum wage."
I hate that thing.
Most of the time, I can squash it pretty good. But if I am busy, as I've been for the last few days, he finds a way to sneak in. Which is why I haven't finished this article. Even when I carved out some time to work on this, my troll said, "It's too late. Just grab a beer. Watch a show. Didn't you want to set up your canopy in the back yard?" (I did, by the way. It's great, but I didn't need to spend an hour in the middle of the day doing it.)
So why does that troll exist in the first place? Because creativity is difficult. How difficult? More difficult than one imagines. The Self-Publishing Podcast reiterated this in a recent episode (SPP is produced by Johnny B. Truant, David Wright, and Sean Platt--the Sterling and Stone team), when they were talking about their experience at Robert McKee's Story Seminars. McKee apparently said creative writing was more difficult than brain surgery (which is an exaggeration, of course), but I think he does have a point. For me, the difficult part of the creative process is the first draft of a novel. This was readily apparent to me last summer when I was writing my first go-round of my newest series, The Rabbit, The Jaguar, & The Snake. Some days the plot and dialog ran out of my fingers, and I completed a few thousand words. I was happy with those days. But there were just as many days when I spent three or four hours and only managed a few hundred words. I hadn't lost my nerve or my talent; I hadn't run out of ideas or gotten blocked. It was just really, really hard to come up with something that worked. And that's when the troll came knocking, and I spent almost as much time squashing it as I did writing (after I finished writing, though. I'm pretty good at ignoring it when I'm trying to be creative).
So why does this happen? Why does the troll creep out from under that mental bridge? For me, it's an offshoot of worrying about the quality of creative work before it's ready to be judged. The most common version of this is to create a cycle of diminish-than-procrastinate. (Interesting aside: I just read a Ted Talk transcript about the connection between procrastination and creativity that argues in favor of putting things off.) Like I said before, that troll loves to trick you into believing that any creative work is not as important as something else more immediately pressing or seen as traditionally more worthwhile. It whispers things like "this isn't making any money, so it's not worth it," or "don't you think you should be [insert chore here] rather than this?" or "nobody cares about your project, so why do it at all?" It harps upon all of the insecurities with which most artists struggle, even when the work is going well, even when it's even selling well. The troll doesn't really want you to make money or clean the house. It only wants two things: fear and self-doubt.
Or maybe you don't have a troll. Maybe you're just really busy. Writing is hard. It takes a lot of effort, and some days it is difficult to muster the energy to engage. If you work full time and/or have a family, that makes it all the more difficult.
So here's a little tip to squash the troll or muster that energy. I learned it from my friend, Bill Harris. Bill is a very successful artist. He's managed to create a career from doing something he loves, and on top of that, he's an all around great guy. When Bill doesn't feel like painting, here's what he does. He goes into his studio, picks up his brush, and he starts to paint.
It can be that simple.
So the next time your troll is whispering in your ear, or the next time you've worked all day, drove the kids all over the place, cooked dinner, cleaned up the house, and you just don't feel like working on anything else, remember that right then is when the troll is at its strongest. That's when it will slime its way into your ear and start telling you you're no good anyway, so why not just give up? Instead of listening to it, go over to wherever it is that you write, paint, draw, or compose, pick up your pen, your brush, your charcoals, your guitar, or fire up your laptop and DO SOMETHING. Even if its only for a half an hour, even if you make very little progress, even if you're not entirely satisfied with what you've written, do it anyway.
Your troll will crawl back under that bridge if you ignore it, and that's how you squash the thing.
Next up: Take some time off
Are you a fan of horror or post-apocalyptic fiction?
Join my email list and receive a free short story, audio book, and theme song for "Beta":
A monster terrorizes an isolated village in the mountains of Eastern Europe, draining the blood of its victims, leaving them frozen in the snow. The villagers hunt wolves, decapitate “vampires,” but the murders continue. As each new body is found, the residents grow more and more paranoid. The cobbler's son decides to investigate, putting himself in grave danger. Who will be next? Will it ever end?
Sign up at www.jamesnoll.net!
--JN
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