Why can’t I just DO this?
You’ve got great ideas, a whole bunch of research findings, and lots of things that you actually want to say – but so far, you’ve yet to get beyond the first few paragraphs. Does this sound like you? It certainly sounds like me! Almost every new project I start.
Why Can’t I just do this?? we wail. The clock is ticking, there’s probably a deadline, maybe even a contract. If only there was more time to write, some dedicated hours. We just need less Other Stuff to do, and a quiet inspiring place to work so we can Just. Get. Going. This week it’s going to be different. No, really. We’re serious. This will be the week we’re really going to get stuck in. For real.
Why can’t I just do this? is carved into the stick that lonely writers beat themselves with as the time slips by and the page stays blank. Even when I’ve had a publishing contract, or been up against a final deadline, I’ve faffed and procrastinated and pissed precious time up the wall while beating myself up with The Stick. The Stick was particularly busy about ten years ago when I was “writing” a book that, at the time, my students desperately needed to help them research with secondary materials. If only I tried harder I’d be able to knuckle down and get stuff done I told myself. I just needed to be more disciplined, that’s all. It’s OK, I do my best work under pressure! Except I didn’t. Soaked with shame, I emailed my publisher and told them I wasn’t going to deliver on the project. I didn’t even manage to write one full chapter before my year was up, the deadline passed and I admitted defeat. FFS Why Can’t I Just DO this?
The answer to that of course, is that we absolutely can do the thing, it’s just that we aren’t. We are capable, educated and on some level motivated writers (yes, really!), yet we just aren’t writing. And unless we know why, it’s nigh on impossible to move on.
There will be a whole encyclopaedia of reasons why we get stuck, but one of them is that most of us carry a fantasy about writers as solo figures who work alone in their turrets, spewing out page after page of brilliance with only their ideas for company. This means that we believe writing is an individual process and that it’s up to us, and only us, to make it happen – if only we could have the right conditions. For me, this fantasy meant that one winter I rented a cliff-side house on the island of La Palma in the Canaries to focus on a project for six weeks. I had peace, solitude, sunshine, a hard-drive full of interview transcripts and a suitcase full of books. My goal was to have my data analysed and a good draft of a journal paper by the time I came home. Instead, I wrote hundreds of WhatsApp messages to my new boyfriend, a couple of nice blog posts – including one that was actually about the fact I was not writing – and did some minor titting-about on some paper revisions.
Sitting with a cuppa at sunrise gazing out to sea instead of writing!
Because all I had was peace, solitude, sunshine, a hard-drive full of interview transcripts and a suitcase full of books, I had no-one to talk to, bounce ideas off or be accountable to. Research-led writers in particular are not usually solitary hermits, we are social creatures because we are so curious about the world around us. The myth of the creative genius as a heroic solo figure ignores the fact that it takes a team to write a book, or article, or anything else, even when it is just one author’s name under the title. It was all I had ever dreamed of – a remote cottage and acres of unstructured time to just write – but when I made that dream come true, I spent most of my days gazing out to sea as hours tumbled away down the cliff into it. It’s amazing how easy it is to spend a whole day doing very little when the view is so beautiful.
If you’re still with me, then the chances are I’m resonating with you, and you’re thinking “YES! That’s me ”. I also know that you probably came here looking for some solutions, rather than just to hear about my writing disasters in lovely places, so here are some tips:
Who is on your journey with you? Is there someone you can buddy up with who can help you with some accountability? This needs to be someone you’re a little bit in awe of otherwise you’ll just ignore them, which is why friends and partners often don’t work as accountability buddies.
Don’t trust yourself to work alone – get some co-authors, and preferably ones that have different skills to you. Even if you are writing a sole-authored piece, find critical friends willing to have conversations with you about your ideas, or read drafts.
Tell people about your deliverables – go public with your deadline on social media, or submit your work to a special issue or volume with a deadline. There’s nothing like time pressure to get the words out.
Get curious about your blocks. What shows up for you when you think about your (not) writing? How do you explain it to yourself? To others? Are these really reasons, or excuses? Be honest.
Ask yourself ‘am I ready to write?’ and ‘do I actually know what I want to say?’ Although a lot of thinking does happen in the act of writing, you do need at least some clarity about what your message will be before you start.
And last but not least, invest in your outcome. Hire me as your writing coach and I can help you with all of the above, and a whole lot more! In working through my own process over the years I’ve developed all sorts of tools and strategies to help you figure out yours. Instead of calling in favours, relying on others’ goodwill, or worrying you’re burdening friends or colleagues, as your coach, you’re paying me to focus on you and your solutions – that’s literally my job! I’d love to see how I can help you, so book a free curiosity call and let’s find out how.