I’m procrastinating. Again. I should be writing. I’m not. I’m standing in front of the refrigerator looking for something to eat even though I’m not really hungry. I’ll head back to the computer and play a game or two of solitaire. It’s much easier than staring at the blank Word document that was staring back before I headed to the kitchen.
What is procrastination? It’s the act or habit of procrastinating, putting off or delaying, especially something requiring immediate attention. Why is it that we spend so much of our time avoiding what we really want to do?
Procrastination is not exclusive to writers. It infects many involved in the arts – painters, musicians, poets, you name it. If you check out the WAG Facebook page you’ll see posts from writing sites all over the world about how we avoid getting started, and avoid getting finished.
In his book The War of Art, Steven Pressfield says: “The pernicious aspect of procrastination is that it can become a habit. We don’t just put off our lives for today; we put them off till our deathbed.” At a recent writers’ retreat, Adrian Fogelin told the story of one man who asked his friend, “Do you know the most valuable piece of real estate around here?” The friend answered, “Geez, I don’t know. Maybe the cathedral? Maybe the estate that belonged to the Rockefellers?” The questioner answered his own question. “No. It’s the cemetery. It contains all the unwritten books, the unpainted masterpieces, the ideas for great mankind-saving inventions, all the good intentions those people never got around to actually doing.”
Why do we procrastinate? There are many reasons – boredom, lack of real commitment to the task, depression, fatigue, etc. Pressfield and Jennifer Blanchard, author of Butt-in-Chair: a No-Excuses Writing Productivity Guide for Writers Who Struggle to Get Started, both say it’s because we’re afraid.
We might be afraid of failure. Our inner critic tells us we’re not even good enough to start. We aren’t as good as…insert the name of your favorite writer/poet/musician/painter here. Who says? No one has the right to tell you that. But that’s what we tell ourselves all the time.
We might be afraid of success. If we succeed, our lives may change. We could be expected to do more. We might have to write another book we may not believe we have in us. They may find out we’re actually incompetent. Megan McArdle writes in The Atlantic that it actually has a clinical name: imposter syndrome.
We know we should be writing every day. We don’t. Some of us skillfully avoid it for days or even weeks at a time. Fortunately, there are strategies we can use to keep us going.
First, we have to change our mind set. In a WAG presentation last year, Lezlie Laws talked about quieting your inner critic. I, personally, have found this to be difficult to do, but essential. When thoughts of “I’m not good enough, I don’t know what I’m doing” creep into my mind, I stop myself and say, “I’m not good enough YET, but I’m getting better.” Many people use affirmations like “I am a good writer, I write well.” I’m not there yet. My inner critic scoffs, out loud, if I say that stuff. But I can accept that I’m getting better. That works for me.
Having a regular daily time to write is useful. However, I haven’t managed to create a writing schedule for myself. I talked about that with another WAG member who was having difficulty sitting butt-in-chair at times, too. She suggested we meet twice a week to write for two hours each time. It was critical it be somewhere away from the temptations of the internet, the housework, the garden, or any of the other great distractions of home. Natalie Goldberg, in her book Writing Down the Bones, tells how she and a friend met weekly at a café to write. She includes suggestions of good manners for writers who spend long hours in business establishments. Writing with my friend has been a great motivator and has boosted my production significantly. We do allow ourselves a few moments once in a while to catch up on conversation. But only a few moments. Only once in a while.
Jo Eberhardt of Writer Unboxed addresses setting priorities and actually scheduling your creativity in a practical way. We’d all love to have massive amounts of time in an idyllic setting to do our writing, but our busy lives may require us to do things on a lesser scale. Several writing gurus have suggested that even ten-minute mini-blocks of time can be very productive and lead to a good writing habit.
Deadlines are a great way to hold yourself accountable. Being part of a WAG critique pod has been a real blessing. I have to produce. I can’t show up every time with nothing to share. Blanchard suggests if you are not in a writing group, create a goal for yourself, and share it with a friend who will hold you to it.
Blanchard also says in Butt-in-Chair it’s all about choices. I may not have written because I was playing solitaire, or because I took a phone call and chatted for a long time with my friend, or because I watched five cute puppy videos. It was my choice. Not an excuse.
Perhaps with a little perseverance, I can convince myself to make some better choices. I’ll start tomorrow/
Robin Ingle
What a great post on an issue that is not exclusive to writers! I struggle daily with butt-in-chair syndrome, and have made a quest, not to conquer it, but to learn ways to use it to my advantage. I ask myself every day, “What am I afraid to write? What is keeping me from writing?” and then I try to write about that. I think my writing is better because of this approach. But that’s just what works for me. What techniques do other writers use to conquer the fear?
Joan H. Carter
I’m not afraid to write. But I’m an excellent procrastinator. The world is full of distractions, and I love being free to follow them. In fact, the urge to write something other than the books I think I want to write gets in the way. Like answering emails. Like letters to the editor after reading the news or a piece on the Opinion page. Like comments on Facebook. Maybe the thought that finishing a book is a long way off gets in my way. Sharon and Robin, you’ve started me thinking about this.