4 ways to handle seasons when you can't write by Joanna Roddy

I'm going back to teaching full-time in about three weeks. Much of what I'll be teaching is entirely new to me and I have all the flurry of curriculum planning, new job orientations, in-service programs, and moving into my new digs. Oh, and I have two young kids at home. Oh, and I'm a writer and my agent is expecting a revision from me soon.

I think we've all experienced this. We reach a season that is not forever, but we know that the writing has to go on the back burner. For me, it's this first semester back to teaching. I'd like to think there are some ways to navigate these seasons with as much grace as possible, so I thought I would share my current strategy with you.

1. Finish up your commitments. Reasonably.
Before the madness sets in, if you have some foreknowledge of it coming, do what you can to tie up what you're in the middle of. For me, that means setting aside the two WIPs I have going and just focusing on my monthly article commitments and my manuscript revision. There are still a few weeks before things blow up, so this feels manageable.

2. Keep writing, but lower your expectations.
I know I just said that there are seasons when we can't write, but the truth is, we always can. At least a little. It might be 10 minutes a day, or one evening a week, or one retreat weekend this quarter, or one hour each weekend, but take something for yourself. We need balance to keep our sanity and even if it's a tiny amount, it's still keeping you in touch with that vital creative part of yourself. For me, I'm going to write on Monday nights with my writing group during our regular meeting time. We're shifting into a new season of actually writing together, which seems heaven-sent. That's all I've got to give to my writing, but I'm going to give it fully.

3. Accept this season for what it is.
It isn't forever. Next semester my class-load will be half and I won't be creating curriculum from scratch. You don't have to kill yourself trying to do everything. Let your writing mind rest and remember that fields that lie fallow are primed for flourishing the next year. 

4. Keep a notebook with you for ideas.
It seems ideas always come when you just don't have the time for them. Don't reject them! Just tell each idea patiently that you will pay attention to it when you can give it the respect it deserves. Then quickly take a note so you don't forget it. When your crazy season is over, set aside some time to just sit with those notes and really think them over. See what still resonates.

Being a writer is not contingent on your output. Ebb and flow is part of the creative life, and sometimes a forced reality of circumstances. Don't let it discourage you. 

While I live out the frenzy of my coming semester, there's a secret, quiet place inside me that is beaming about having my own office to write in where I won't have to buy coffees endlessly or leave at closing time. I won't be using my new office that way yet. But it's there waiting for me on the other side of this semester. And this image of abundance sustains me in the season of scarcity: me at my office desk, a mug of tea steaming beside me, three walls of windows around me in the romantic old Tudor building where I teach, and my manuscript open in front of me with quiet hours ahead in which to do my work. 

On timed writes, word counts, and NaNoWriMo by Joanna Roddy

Image Courtesy: National Novel Writing Month

You will never see me running a marathon. Because, twenty-six miles. I mean, really? How about three? That’s extreme enough for me and I know I’ll be able to do it again two days later. For that matter, I'd be happier to do a yoga class or go on a jolly good walk. I may have a bum hip, but marathoning doesn’t appeal to my personality either. I like to savor things. I like to enjoy the task at hand and be ready for the next round. I like a challenge, but not killing myself in the process. In other words, I'll push myself, but my end-game is sustainability.

So National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) is just around the corner and it's always struck me as a marathon-like task--an extreme feat of authorial athletics. I have utilized many strategies to get my bum in the chair to write over the years, but having a 50,000 word novel drafted in thirty days as my carrot incentive just seems a little over-the-top to me.

But this year I have to admit, I’m intrigued. All the women in my critique group have decided to do it. I'm sitting at the beginning of two big ideas. And I'm craving more self-discipline and the sacred space of those early mornings at the page.

Ok, but word counts? I discovered earlier this year that they just don't work for me at the drafting stage. I need to respect the work I'm doing in terms of quality in order to trust it to lead me forward and that just takes longer for me. It's a first draft, so I'm not going to nit-pick, but I need to feel I'm doing my best given what I know. I find my daily word count interesting, but it can't be my target because I need to find the path, and sometimes it's really hard to see. I could just take off through the underbrush in what I think is the right direction, but I don't want to find myself at the bottom of a ravine with no way out. No. There's a road under the ivy and I need to find my way along it, step by step.

So I want to do NaNoWriMo, but the word count thing is a hang-up for me. The rules might be too rigid, as Chuck Wendig suggests in his frank and hilarious post 25 Things You Should Know About NaNoWriMo, (warning: coarse language and vulgarity, if that's not your thing). Wendig argues that you are the only one this really matters to, so make it your own. Hang the rules.

I was chatting about it with a writer friend for whom word count goals also don't work. Except for him they don't work at all, ever, where for me, I thrive (and I mean THRIVE) on them in the re-write stage. And together we came to this conclusion: time goals. A general benchmark seems to be two-three hours for the requisite 1666 words per day in the NaNoWriMo model. And I decided that's going to be MY version of NaNoWriMo. Time with the work. At least two hours a day.

Image courtesy: The Pomodoro Technique by Francesco Cirillo

One of my favorite timed writing approaches is the Pomodoro Technique. It's deucedly simple: set a timer, work for twenty-five minutes, take a five minute break, repeat. Often the first set is painful to get through, but by the second or third, I want to skip my breaks because I'm on a roll. It works!

So I guess I'm doing my own version of NaNoWriMo. JoNoWriMo, I'll call it. I hope my liberality with the rules doesn't offend the hardcore Wrimoes, but we all have to find our own stride in this writing life and it should be celebrated in whatever form it takes, right? If I end up in December with 50K+ words, great. If not (and I suspect I won't), I think I'll still have won, virtual trophy or no. 

Question for you: Is anyone else planning to do NaNoWriMo this year? Any advice from former Wrimoes? 

And I’d also love to hear more from you about the word count/ timed writing debate. What works best for you and why? 

Whatever your November brings, may we all work well and grow in our craft. Cheers to that!

This counts as "writing", right?, by: Marissa Burt

http://www.gocomics.com/pearlsbeforeswine/2014/07/27

I can end this post right here, yes? I think all writers have to resonate with this on some level, because writing requires self-motivation from a group of people who are often easily distracted by imaginary worlds, let alone all the interesting things right there in front of us.  While there is something to be said for sitting down and eking the words out through sheer force of will, I'm beginning to let go of the drivenness that says every writing-moment must equal words on a page.

Matt's earlier post about being okay with not writing every day was spot on, and I'm going to springboard off that and say that sometimes things that have absolutely nothing to do with writing are useful for building creativity. No, this is not a weak attempt to justify my ridiculous fondness for Candy Crush, but I do think mindless indulgences - whether it's frittering away a few minutes online or daydreaming out the window - do something for our creativity.

It's like how I stop to do a few stretches after I've been hunched over my laptop for an hour. My body needs a break and a reset. Why do I begrudge my mind the same?

So I'm learning to factor wasting time into my writing time. If I have a whole four hours to write, I've come to accept that about 30% of that will evaporate into research rabbit-trails and a quick visit to facebook and another trip to the pantry.

All that being said the ability to focus in and really get lost in the world varies with the stage of the manuscript. I squander writing time frivolously during the first draft, but as I reach the end of the manuscript, I find it difficult to even stop for lunch, and if a brilliant plot twist strikes, all bets are off.

What about you? What do you do to reset your creativity? And 'fess up, Mayhemers, what are your secret time-wasting indulgences?