About First Drafts
In the earlier days of becoming a writer, I’d panic at any lack of fresh ideas. A lot of the advice I read said to keep going no matter what, that first drafts were all a mess, and the trick was to continue. Good or bad, my main task was to put one word in front of the other and that alone would see me to the end. As far as I can tell, this works for some people, but I found that forcing myself to continue in the absence of a compelling idea only led to having nothing to say.
What I didn’t realize then was that slowing down is not failure, that needing to stop was not giving up. For me, such moments are better thought of as giving in. It certainly feels more encouraging to think of it that way. Besides, the nothingness is spacious and accommodating. It’s okay to admit you don’t know what’s next. All of my most exciting discoveries have been found in that openness.
A Rebel with a Cause
Don’t get me wrong. I still don’t like those moments. They are decidedly uncomfortable and self-doubt like a goblin likes to hide in the shadows. It’ll creep up behind me in the moments of silence and whisper into my ear, “You will never write again.” Nonsense.
There is another way, delightfully rebellious, which might I add is a productive mindset from which to create. Isn’t every artist a troublemaker of one sort or another? So, why not settle into the discomfort, accept it, and take it for what it is—an invitation to stop writing and pause for a good long think? It helps me to remove myself from the computer screen, to go sit in a comfy chair by the fire, to maybe even cover my lap in a blanket.
Writing Outside the Lines
I bring along a pen and purple foolscap, which I guess you could technically call instruments of writing, although what I do during this time doesn’t feel anything like writing. Let’s not quibble. The thing about foolscap is if you put something down that doesn’t feel right, you can crumple the sheet into a tight ball and huck it across the room.
Joy can be found in littering a page with any random idea that happens to float by, to circle a few or join them in a string, connect the dots like stars in the sky to form a larger meaning. I like using different coloured pens and highlighters, a pencil if I’m in the mood for softness. It’s okay in such moments to write sideways outside of the lines. I might put one sentence at the top of the page and the next at the bottom, then wait to see what happens in between.
Clarifying the Problem
We’re accustomed, I think, to looking for singular answers. Here’s a radical thought. What if we tuned into the divergent, the paradoxical, the discordant? I find that the closer I get to a problem area, the stickier the ideas become. It’s useful to remember that many of the best stories are in a significant way unresolvable. Sometimes all a story does is clarify a problem and leave its resolution, if such a thing is possible, in the mind of the reader.
It’s a productive day if I’m able to name the opposing forces. Once or twice, I’ve simply drawn a line down the middle of the page and placed a heading on each column, then walked away a happy person. I can close my writing practice for the day, but that does not stop the ongoing creative process.
I’ll Tell You a Secret
You don’t have to stand at attention to receive ideas. Ideas like it best if you pretend to be occupied with something else. As long as I have my trusty page with its two empty columns close at hand, whenever a possible expression of the growing idea happens to cross my brain, I can write it down. Before I know it, I have a sticky mess of inspiration. My creative space is fully loaded for the next day’s writing.
This is how I have solved some of my biggest creative challenges. If I’d followed the conventional wisdom and kept forcing myself to complete sentences when I’d yet to find an idea worth expressing, that would never have happened.
How does it work for you? I’d love to hear. Also, if you enjoyed reading this blog, consider subscribing. It’s free.
Happy writing.
Debbie Bateman 