Att sitta ner och skriva - som att ta din medicin

LIKE TAKING YOUR MEDICINE
You’re at home. But the faucet has a drip. The plants could be watered. The
hall could be swept. You are at home, yes, where you do your writing, but
writing isn’t quite on the agenda right at this moment. You feel a little
too muddle-headed to write; and then there’s the drip, the parched ferns and
the dust bunnies. So, although you are at home, just a few feet from your
writing, you might as well be in Kazakhstan, as close as you feel to
writing.
So you wait for a better moment. But waiting is very dangerous. If you wait
for a time when your muddle-headedness, mild depression, to-do lists, doubts
about the universe, and a thousand other things you could name are finally
handled or settled, you will wait for a very long time. And as you wait,
nothing good is happening. In fact, you are digging your hole deeper. No,
waiting is a very dangerous game. Why don’t you try the following instead?
Every four hours, just like taking your medicine, maybe at 8 a.m., noon, 4
p.m., and 8 p.m., ask yourself the following question: “Given the exact
circumstances in which I find myself, am I able to write for fifteen
minutes?” If your answer is no, explain to yourself why you are answering
no. If your answer is yes but you don’t start writing, explain to yourself
why, even though you feel able to write, you aren’t writing. If your answer
is yes and you do write, have a chat with yourself (after you’ve finished
writing) about whether this writing stint would have occurred if you hadn’t
checked in with yourself in this experimental way.
People who try this experiment typically report the following. “I wasn’t
able to write every four hours, as that seemed too artificial and arbitrary;
and it also didn’t work very well given the shape of my day. But I did
notice that writing was much more on my mind and in fact I did turn to my
writing more than I probably would have if I hadn’t been thinking about
those writing stints.”
That’s the point of this tactic: to keep your writing on your mind in such a
front and center way that you’re holding the intention to write even as you
pull out the ironing board or pay your bills online. Whenever you find
yourself at home, hold the intention to write, as that intention will
translate into actual writing stints. However it is that you remember to
take your medicine four times a day—whatever facility of mind allows you to
do that—do exactly the same for your writing.
Of course there’s the risk that at your appointed time you’ll find yourself
unable to write; that by not writing you’ll disappoint yourself; and, as a
consequence, you’ll feel even worse than if you hadn’t tried at all. There
is always the risk that you may disappoint yourself. That risk is there even
for productive writers, as most writers don’t write as often as they would
like. Because of this reality, you will need to practice self-forgiveness.
Just so long as you tie self-forgiveness to new resolve, it is wise not to
badger yourself about any writing stints you skipped or any writing you
failed to get accomplished.
We are very clever in the ways that we talk ourselves out of writing. Only
rarely do we say, “I refuse to write today.” More usually we say things
like, “I can’t go shopping without a grocery list, so I had better get that
list written” or “A little nap would be pleasant; no, more than pleasant,
vital.” By talking this way, we make sure that we don’t notice that we’re
holding the strong intention to avoid our writing. The day goes by; some
guilt accumulates; a little bitterness builds; maybe a little depression
flowers. But on balance we’ve achieved our objectives: to avoid writing and
to say nothing to ourselves that might alert us to our shenanigans.
By getting small, regular writing stints on the table, you get some
writing-related inner talk going, even if it’s of the “Oh, time to write—but
I don’t really feel up to it!” sort. That refusal, while disappointing, is
nevertheless better than not thinking about your writing at all. You want to
get a grip on your mind in such a way that your writing intentions exist in
your thoughts. Planning your day around a series of writing stints helps
with this.
Joan, a novelist, explained: “Continually holding the intention to write in
the back of my mind has caused my writing to feature more prominently in my
life. Now I’m always mulling over the next paragraph, ruminating on it
throughout the day, and thinking about where it’s going to lead. Doing this
regular ‘intention holding’ has given me a feeling of power and a new
freedom to think about the work, do the work, and allow the work to flow.”
You could wish to write, but that isn’t quite strong enough. You could want
to write, but that isn’t strong enough either. Intend to write: that is the
steelier orientation.
Eric Maisel i ett av hans nyhetsbrev maj 07. Här är hans hemsida.