The Productive Pause

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Empty Moments

I’m a person who is uncomfortable with inaction. Ask me to work hard all day and I’ll be happier than I might be if you told me to sit down and be still for ten minutes. The empty moments can fill with shadows, the unexpected creeping around the corner, things I have avoided coming out from under the bed.

Some Things I’ve Learned (So Far)

Most days from breakfast until bedtime, I fill practically every moment. Even lunch time has a walking agenda. Coffee breaks are for yoga. And after supper, I read, often setting a specific target on how many pages I will cover. I accept this about myself. It’s part of my personality and it has served me well in accomplishing dreams, although seldom in the way I’d expected.

As I age, I am recognizing that my habit of action does not always support growth. Moments of pause can open possibilities that might not be discovered any other way. That which I fear can be transformed by the simple act of attention.

In revising “Your Body Was Made for This” for publication, I learned many things. Pressed for time, I became more experimental. I was willing to try anything. That alone is a mindset I’d like to retain. Now that my first book is out in the world finding its way, I am turning to the next project, and I am hoping to take what I learned from “Your Body Was Made for This” with me.

Question Everything

Supposing I questioned all my assumptions. What if instead of grinding away, I tried a different approach? As I revised the stories in “Your Body Was Made for This” for publication, I discovered that pushing words out is not always the answer. Sometimes, it can be. But if things are not working, a better action might be to walk away from the computer, sit down and have a good hard think. Monsters under the bed be damned. Perhaps, writing favours the brave, those bold enough to be still and face whatever they would rather avoid. I wonder.

Realizing my days are numbered, it is easier now to convince myself to sit at my desk. At sixty-four, I haven’t a minute to waste. That’s the truth and I know it. I’ve also learned that I do not have to feel good in order to write. During the blinding pain in the years after our son died, I continued to put words on the page. So yes, feeling out-of-sorts, which I often do, does not keep me from writing.

Hey Cranky One, Let’s Talk

My struggle is more with the inner editor, that know-it-all critic who can sniff out a fake characterization, trite plot point, or misguided metaphor even before the words splat onto the page. I’ve learned to out-run her. It’s not that hard because as smart as she is (and my inner editor really and truly is smart), she is not fast.

Only recently have I begun to wonder what might happen if the fast-running writer worked with the exacting editor even during the first draft. What if instead of avoiding each other, they sat down at the table and agreed to not leave the room until they found a way to work together productively?

A Meaningful Collaboration

This runs against the commonly held wisdom that writers should never ever, no not ever, pause while weaving together a first draft. Whatever. I’ve never really been one to blindly follow the rules, although I’m often quiet about my defiance, and I know what works for me.

I’m not suggesting that I return to my old habit of over-refining the wording in first drafts. If I’ve learned nothing else, I have learned that is a waste of time. There is little value in finessing words if the story is misaligned or the character is cardboard.

But I do think the editor is worth listening to at all stages of the process. All she needs are firm guidelines on the type of feedback that is useful during a first draft. And what kind of feedback is that? Well, the basics of character and voice and story. Any and all questions related to those key concerns are worth asking.

An Experiment

I’m writing the first draft of a novel and I’m a few chapters into the process. So far, I’ve found it useful to have regularly scheduled meetings with my inner editor. Once a week or so, I let her voice her concerns. Away from the computer, we lock ourselves in a room and talk it out. She keeps her comments to story and character development. I write down the questions on the mauve foolscap I love so well.

So far, those moments of pause have brought interesting monsters into the open. Bit by bit, our meetings are deepening the story in its infant form and they are helping to bring what matters into better focus—all this without stalling onward movement.

Questions, even the ugly and unpleasant ones, lead eventually to answers if only we dare to face them. At least, I hope so. I’ll let you know.

If you enjoyed this exploration, whether you agree with my ideas or not, I’d love to hear from you. Subscribe to my blog and leave your comments. Let’s talk.