The Next Write Thing

by Christina Lay

Louis L’Amour once said he could write while sitting in the middle of a freeway with his typewriter balanced on his knees. I do not have that super power and unfortunately, I feel that the times we live in are comparable to having loud, recklessly driven cars zooming by all around us while we try desperately to focus on the work in front of us. Global pandemic, the world on fire, the rise of fascism, the fragility of democracy; all of these things are as distracting as a semi-truck tailgating your Prius on a dark and stormy night.

I told myself I really needed to write my ShadowSpinners article (due yesterday) well in advance of Election Day, but alas, in my ongoing state of agitation, I couldn’t bring myself to sit down and remember why I thought pronouns would make a compelling topic. This is also part of the writer’s dilemma. Not only do we have rioting and chaos outside our windows, it is sometimes hard to find value in what we’re doing. Where’s the relevance? Will this article help save the world or put out the fires?

Not likely. However, it might help me calm down, and it might help a reader or two pass some time in non-agitated repose.

In recovery programs, we have a simple suggestion when crisis hits or tragedy strikes and you don’t know what to do with yourself or how to move forward: Do the next right thing.  When my partner committed suicide ten years ago, my sponsor told me this, and it helped me move through the mire of grief and shock. The next right thing might be: eat something, brush your teeth, walk the dog, sleep. 

So what’s the next write thing when it comes to our creative endeavors? (See what I did there? Continuous lack of sleep isn’t all bad!)

Here are some simple suggestions:

Open your work in progress, and read through it. Look for spelling errors and typos. Take notes on any ideas that pop into your head.

When you reach the end, write a sentence. If that feels good, keep going, maybe you’ll get a paragraph down. Be okay with that.

Grab a notebook and jot down ideas or random thoughts. Doodle.

Compose a short and probably terrible haiku. Wax poetic about coffee, cats, or whatever brings you comfort.

Write down your dreams when you wake up. Last night I dreamt I ate a sock. WTF? Is thatwhat happens to the missing socks?

Pour all of your angst into a never-to-be-sent letter to (Insert Politician’s Name). Much, much later, go through it, remove all the expletives, and see if there’s anything worth salvaging. 

Read a chapter or two on your craft.

Re-Read a favorite work of fiction and pay attention to why you love it.

If you must check on the news, pay attention to the texture of the moment.  It is a curse to live in interesting time, but we might as well take advantage and be the observers society and history relies on.

Take a walk.

Plant some bulbs.

Make a batch of chili.

Keep it Simple: Accept that you probably won’t save the world today, and you won’t find the way to perfectly phrase an argument or present a truth that will convince all the bad people to behave nicely.  You might not compose beautiful sentences, or even coherent ones.  Just remember that first and foremost, you create for yourself. The need for self-expression is great in creative types and in difficult times, it’s important to let go of the results, and sink into the simple pleasure, or at least release, of doing.  If we keep on keeping on, maybe someday, what we’re doing now will make a difference, change a heart, provide relief, a laugh, a human connection.

Most of all, forgive yourself for not winning the Pulitzer prize this year. Forgive yourself for blowing that deadline.  We are writers, but we all also human, and we can allow ourselves to Keep It Simple, for now.

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