When I don't want to write

This is not a how-to article. In Those articles, the writer defines a problem and then provides a series of steps to solve the problem. I have a recurring problem. The issue for me is my resistance to writing, an overall feeling of dread and heaviness every time I sit down and try to transform a nebulous idea into printable prose. There is a reluctance to begin the process and a hesitancy to follow through on what I think are the vague ideas and notions I have of what I want to write about. I want to write, but I don’t want the burden of what, for me, is the slow, laborious process of wrangling words into a readable shape. I drag my feet, I procrastinate, I dawdle; knowing that this avoidance is a waste of time. Also, it delays the satisfying feeling of finishing a piece of writing. Dorothy Parker once quipped, “I hate writing, I love having written”. Amen.

Sometimes I torture myself with the idea that successful writers approach the keyboard with zest, purpose, and utter confidence, but I really think this ambivalence is common to most writers to some degree. Finally, though, I just have to pull myself out of inertia and into action and do the thing I don’t want to do.

“Just do it.” Nike

I know I’m quoting a shoe company here, but sitting down in front of a computer and opening a blank document is just as daunting as pulling on a pair of sneakers to run. (not that I know anything about that). Writing is a workout and starting is the hardest part. But the blinking cursor bullies you into action. You have to write something, anything so I always start with a title. I usually change the title several times over the course of writing because the article will change from what I thought it would be into what it will become after I give it my full attention. Once the title is written, it looks silly up there floating over all that blank space like a flag without a country. So I begin.

At this point, my jaw unclenches a bit because at least I’ve gone from murky thoughts about what I would write to the reality of producing text. This is the first draft, and as one sentence follows another, I’m calmed by the thought that I can change, move or delete any of them, and I usually do. This process of tinkering and refining is the essence of writing so why do I always forget that before I begin? Before I start; why do I stall?

Now that I’m writing, words and phrases pop into my mind that hadn’t occurred to me while I was mulling the idea over and thinking it was half-baked and flimsy. For me, the activity is slow. I stare into space a lot seemingly thinking of nothing. My guess is that my subconscious mind is supplying me with all the inspiration I was suppressing while I was in my pre-writing doldrums.

Now my shoulders are back down where my shoulders should be. I’m starting to see some structure in the piece and I freely cut and paste, delete here, expand there until there’s an identifiable form. (at least to me). When I am at this point in the writing, I am committed to finishing and just as reluctant to stop as I was to start. I remember that I like this organizing and reshuffling and that I will find an ending, do a final edit, and spellcheck. The process isn’t always this consistent. Sometimes I do abandon the idea because it isn’t workable and it doesn’t flow, but absolutely nothing happens until I trust myself to begin.