The Problem With “Should Be Writing”

“I did not work nor think over the week end and this was done on purpose.”

– John Steinbeck   Journal Of A Novel

I’ve been a little stressed the past few weeks. It would be an understatement to say that things have picked up for me in the past few months. I published a book in October, finished writing the second book in the series just before Thanksgiving and now am plotting the third book. When I finished book 2, I had these grandiose ideas that I would take off the week of Thanksgiving then dive back in and finish book 3 by the end of December. Ah, what a fool I was to even think such a thing. I know better. The holiday season is the worst time to try and hammer out thousands of words per day. It just is.

I know, I know. Deadlines are looming. But one of the beautiful things about self publishing is that my deadlines are self imposed. That in no way means I get to brush off any work whatsoever, but it does give me a cushion. And I’m grateful.

In talking to Hubby about this, he reminded me that good is better than fast. Yes, I want to get book 3 done by a certain time but that time is NOT in just a few weeks. And ultimately, I want to write a good book, not just words on a page to spew out by a certain date.

I’ve been seeing a lot of articles lately about the speed and pace of publishing. On one hand, it feels like it moves at a snail’s pace, on the other it feels like driving in a race car. And we live in a society where we can want something, click a few buttons on our computer and poof! it’s there. We aren’t all that patient anymore. Therefore, the sense for a writer these days is to pump out multiple books a year, and let me tell you, that’s not easy. It’s doable, but not easy.

And for me, I find that when I’m holed up in my office in front of my computer for hours on end, day after day, my writing gets stale. It feels forced. Yes, I believe I have to put my butt in the seat every day and do it even if I don’t “feel” like it, but that’s not what I’m talking about. I firmly believe – no, I know – that if I don’t get out of my office and live life, I will not have a single thing to write about. I forget what it’s like to laugh with a friend, or cry with one who is struggling. I forget how it feels to look out the window and watch the birds float from tree to tree. I forget what it’s like to listen to great music, close my eyes and let scenes come to me that I know I can use in a book. I need to interact with the real world in order to create fictional ones.

And don’t kid yourself. If you see a writer sitting and staring, they aren’t being lazy. They’re writing. I’ve had some of my best ideas while simply observing people at coffee shops or looking at the stars at night.

So I try to shy away from telling myself I “should be writing.” (I don’t like the word should anyway.) Because, no matter what, I’m ALWAYS writing.