Two weeks ago I attended an after-work spiritual retreat at Rolling Ridge, a retreat facility and conference center that’s located only about a half-hour from my office.
It had been a hectic week, so I welcomed this chance to kick back, meditate and just generally let someone else do the talking or better yet, shush my brain altogether.
The presenter began with a story about two monks–one older, one younger. One day, the junior monk confessed to his mentor how, as a neophyte, he could never seem to measure up; he could never be as pious as his elders. The younger monk said, “You get up so early every morning. You seem to pray with all your heart and soul. I could never hope to pray like that.”
The elder monk smiled and said, “Why don’t you pray what you can, not what you can’t.”
This advice really applies to our writing. It especially applies to those of us who constantly dither between our creative lives and our other responsibilities, including work. Honestly, there are weeks when I should get a golden gloves for all the jabs I take at myself, for how much I beat myself up over all that “I can’t” do, or haven’t done or failed to do.
In her inspirational blog for writers, Barbara Ann Yoder dubs this, “emotional self-flagellation,” a state she finds counterproductive.
I think it’s important to acknowledge that jobs, relationships, cross-country moves, illnesses, and many other challenges can and do at times take precedence over writing.
For me, this “emotional self-flagellation” is often rooted in a monkish belief that only long-form writing stints qualify as “real” writing.
Or, for another perspective, check out Lisa Romeo’s writing blog, in which she also refutes that perennial advice about writing every day.
But to my mind the most detrimental piece of standard writing advice is the one that declares that in order to be a *real* writer (whatever that is), one must write every single day, often amended to include that one must write a set number of pages or words, or a set amount of time per day.
Since attending that evening retreat, I’ve been trying to change my own thought processes.
On those days when I simply can’t get 500 words on the page, I force myself to ask: What can I do?
Can I do a short morning meditation to clear my brain and develop a better and more creative attitude? Can I journal for five minutes?
Can I switch on my laptop and just read yesterday’s paragraph so that I have at least “visited” my work in progress for that day? Can I do a quick read-through and edit of the first paragraph? Can I write up a to-do list of what’s left or outstanding in the work? Can I play a scene through my head while I’m driving to the day job?
By focusing on what I can do, I am actually getting more writing done–or at least, I’m staying more consistently engaged in the work.
And best of all, I’m on much better terms with myself–and this life called writing.
What on-the-fly, quickie writer strategies save your writing days?