Don’t Buy the Problem: Writing Excuses”

When I finished at Samhain, I realized I had spent a decade working on and toward my writing career, taking jobs to support myself financially that dovetailed with my skill set while I focused on writing. Ten years on, I know I can and will be able to write no matter what else I’m doing, and I’d like to invert that scenario. My writing career has been built and is, at this point, going to be rather self-sustaining. I have an agent I adore and the ability to write good novels through adversity. There isn’t much more to be gained right now from continuing to focus on it principally. In other words, I’d like to settle down in a career. The writing will be there.

But given that background, it’s not easy for me to just apply to jobs and expect to land one, especially in the current market here. So I got some career and job hunt books out of the library (of course), and began reading. I hit on one called You Majored in What? by Katharine Brooks, and while it is aimed at college students and new grads, it helped me reframe the way I was thinking about careers and jobs and the finding thereof. The title, and the point of this post, are borrowed from it.

The book was helpful and I encourage anyone in college to read it, as well as anyone who has trouble identifying their own strengths. Two sentences leapt out at me; the first was this one, the second will be next week’s post. The first is: “Don’t buy the problem.”

In a section on motivation and positive mindsets and whatnot, Brooks writes that too often we buy into a problem we don’t need to. “I can’t job hunt while I’m in school, I’m too busy.” Substitute “write” for “job hunt” and you begin to see why I sat up and took notice.

Often, people really do want to write. But they throw up these reasons they aren’t because their fear is greater, and those excuses are just enough to tip them from wanting to write and doing so to wanting to write and not doing so. An easy way to reset that scale is to get rid of the excuses. Then the scale can tip back in favour of your want rather than your fear. So let’s look at some common problems we buy into that we don’t really have to. These are the writing excuses you’ve probably told yourself from time to time.

“I don’t have time.”

How often do you check Facebook on your phone? Or email your friends? If you add up the minutes spent on mundane activities (or, go head, put housework in there. Priorities, right?), you’ll invariably find that you DO have time; you’re just spending it on other things. Time management can be learned, but it starts with acknowledging that you really do have more time than you think. Maybe instead of going out to eat on your lunch break, you pack a lunch and spend half an hour writing at your desk while you eat. Or instead of emailing your friends, you write a page first. Little habits like these add up to entire books.

“I don’t know what I’m doing.” (aka, “I’m not good enough.”)

This one’s kind of my favourite. If you don’t write, then you’ll never figure out what you’re doing. You’ll never get good enough. The answer to this problem is what you’re using it to avoid. And everyone has to start somewhere. Nobody’s born writing publishable novels. So start somewhere, anywhere. Start daydreaming about that recurring dream you always thought would make a good story. Make a list of fun character names. Heck, open Word and just start typing. You WILL learn. But only if you start.

“I’m too tired.”

Unless you have an illness, the only time this one’s acceptable is if instead of writing you go to bed following the thought. In that case, you really were too tired. But if you don’t go to bed, what do you do instead? Veg out and watch TV? Futz on the computer? Read? Are those actually helping you rest and become less tired? No? Then you may as well write. Reading often stimulates the brain. Using screens stimulates the brain (it’s called blue screen, and it’s why you shouldn’t even look at your phone within an hour of bedtime). If you’re doing those when you’re tired, you can write.

Think of your own usual excuses and apply the same logic: don’t buy the problem. “I wrote yesterday” -> I didn’t write today, and my book won’t write itself. “Reading this book on writing is *like* writing.” -> my page count isn’t getting any longer this way.

In a lot of cases, excuses happen because we think of writing as a monolithic activity: that person who can spend hours in front of their computer and finish a book in a few months. Most of us are not that writer. Even those of us who have the time to be that writer aren’t that writer. Writing is a lot of mental energy. Break your goals down into manageable bites (post in two weeks!) and most of these excuses simply lose sway.

There ARE times we can’t write and need to take that break. Coming off the end of a draft. During times of extreme personal duress. When we’re completely stuck and may need to rethink half our plot. But when those legitimate reasons come up, we’ll know it. The garden variety ones aren’t the same thing. Don’t buy the problem.

What are your common excuses and how can you not buy their problems?

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