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Written by Elizabeth Genco
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Tuesday, 29 November 2005 |
A few last words from Elizabeth -- at least, for now -- about creating good habits so you can get on with the show.
This will be my last column at Scryptic for a while, so it strikes me as a particularly apropos time to discuss Getting On With It.
Getting on with it has been on my mind a lot lately. Which is kind of odd, really, because I get on with it on a regular basis, thank you very much. Nonetheless, I still struggle with action-versus-inaction.
For me, there are two parts to getting on with it. There's the obvious part, the "just do it" part, which, I'll note with a wry smile, is really more about making good work habits for yourself, despite what blowhards on the Internet might tell you. Then there's the not-so-obvious part -- the mental part. We'll talk work habits first.
Every writer has to come to grips with the mechanics of "butt in the chair". Habits are as individual as any writer; creating them (or finding them -- ha!) is just as individual, and involves a lot of trial and error. As you all know, the world places a lot of resistance and detours in the writer's -- make that rocker's -- path.
I'm a "live by the nest, die by the nest" kind of girl. I don't really operate well when outside influences move my cheese around. In many ways, trying to develop "habits" are a laugh. "Habit" implies consistency. Brothers and sisters, I long for consistency. It just ain't happening. I know I'm far from the only one with this problem.
And it's not just external influences, either. My mind doesn’t settle for one way of creating. I don't have a set "process" every time. When I'm honest about it, I admit that it's probably for the best. Nonetheless, as one who loves consistency and longs for "habits," it drives me nuts. What's a desperate rocker to do?
For my last year of college, I had to do what many last-year-of-college kids have to do: write a thesis. Having never undertaken a project of that magnitude, yet, possessing an important bit of self-knowledge (namely, that I can't get any real work done after around 12 midnight, which pretty much rules out all-nighters), I came up with a single rule, then followed it blindly while hoping/praying that it would see me through. Amazingly, it did. I woke up one morning with two weeks to the deadline and the only work that remained was getting it bound at Kinko's.
The rule? Do something every day. Sometimes, that meant checking a book out of the library. Sometimes it meant tearing the cellophane off a shiny new pack of index cards, then putting them away (hey, it's the little things). Sometimes that meant writing ten pages. In the end, the specifics of my daily "action item" didn't really matter very much, but the fact that I "did something," well, did.
The results of the thesis endeavor taught me a little something about the importance of consistency. Magical things really do happen when you "do something" within a specific set of parameters. I've been hooked ever since.
These days, writing every single day with that kind of consistency, even if it's a few words on a story, is a pipe dream. Yes, even for me, she-who-carries-notebooks-everywhere. Yeah, I lay something down most days, but there are many, many days when it's just not happening. So I've tweaked the basic premise a bit. I write when I have the time, period. I write as the time will be taken away tomorrow, because it will be. Often. I hoard the minutes like a squirrel saves nuts for the winter. It's kind of a Depression-era rationing/Last Supper mentality, but with words.
Sound kind of wacky? When I look at it from the outside rather than the inside, it strikes me as very wacky. But, after fighting and fighting with things outside of my control, I've finally given up and accepted, with angst, the fact that this is what I've got right now. This is what I have to do.
And I keep coming back to it. The writing, I mean. Circumstances beyond my control today? There's tomorrow. The difference between someone like me and the wanna-bes is that I'll be there tomorrow. Getting On With It, for me, means Getting Back To It. Not whenever. At the next earliest opportunity.
There's another important aspect to "getting on with it" that also gets a lot of my time and attention, and, while normally I like to stick to my general line of "hey, whatever works for you" regarding my advice (such as it is), this time I'm going to strongly suggest that you follow it. If you're someone who constantly complains about a litany of things getting in your way, you might want to especially listen up.
Are you acting in accordance with your stated intentions? How does your life stack up, when it comes to writing? Are you structuring your life in a way that's conducive to your goals? Do you make choices that support your writing, or work against it?
My partner Leland and I call this "aligning;" as in, aligning towards our artistic needs, not away from them. It's up to us to structure our lives towards the good of our work, as much as possible. There's a lot in my life that just sucks for my writing. But there are a lot of things that I do, consciously, to protect it.
Phone ringing off the hook? Turn it off. Kids constantly bothering you? Hire a sitter. Day job takes and takes and leaves you with nothing left for creative work? Maybe you need a new one. Okay, so maybe some of the big stuff isn't manageable right now. How about the small stuff? It all counts.
Perhaps that sounds flippant. Well, perhaps that's too bad. It all gets down to choices. Some of mine have been rather drastic. I've ended long-term relationships with people who were poisonous to my work. My truly supportive friends understand why it sometimes takes me a while to get back to them when they call or email. Writing as solitary work? Whatever. Everyone around you on the day-to-day impacts your writing in some way or another, including your family, your boss, your co-workers, and your friends.
And have you experienced the Internet lately, by God? The Internet is full of writers with loud voices and a lot of opinions. Many of said writers are pros, especially in online comics circles. The process of Making A Comic has never been so demystified, if you know where to look. Which brings me to those mental habits I mentioned at the beginning of the column.
I've been on a lot of forums over the years, most filled with folks who are starting out and want advice in some form or another. Said advice is freely given by generous souls qualified to give it (okay, and lots of not-so-qualified souls), which is one of the great things about the comics industry. I don't know about you, but after a while all that stuff -- even the good stuff -- becomes so much chatter and nothing more. Chatter is tiresome, and, ultimately, gets in the way.
Don't misunderstand, here. Those self-righteous declarations of "I can't talk about writing, I'm too busy doing it" are just as tiresome, in my not-so-humble opinion. Talking is good. Reading all those threads on what everyone else does can be good, too. Too much talking, however, requires mental housecleaning. Why expend all that energy on something other than the work itself?
It can be groovy to talk about writing and read about writing until smoke comes out of your ears. But then there comes a point when all of that just takes up mental real estate that you probably can't afford to spare. I.e., more roadblocks that are self-imposed and avoidable.
After all, what you don't need is more advice. What you need is to get on with it. (Yes, I'm a writing columnist. I get the irony, bub.)
You're a rocker. Go, you know, rock out.
Elizabeth Genco has a lot of work to do, and must get on with it. Her website will have all the details (syndication feeds on the lower left sidebar, LiveJournal feed here).
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