Showing posts with label procrastination. Show all posts
Showing posts with label procrastination. Show all posts

Can blogging actually harm your writing?

One of the things I always advise would-be writers to do is to start a blog: it’s a great way of getting into the habit of regular writing, and with writing, like any talent, practice makes perfect – so the more you do it, the better you get. But am I right? Or can blogging actually damage your writing, and stall your ambitions?

I think that one of the biggest myths about writing is that it’s all the same thing: that if you can write short stories, you can write a novel (or vice versa); that it’s just one basic skill that works across all media. While there is, of course, a degree of transferability  – if you’re a decent writer, you’re not suddenly going to lose the ability to string together a sentence if you decide to switch from business writing to blogging, or playwriting to penning a novel. There are plenty of examples where writers have ability across a range of fields – but just as many where they don’t. Talent in one area doesn’t necessarily equate to skill in another. Some of my most beloved novelists write terrible short stories, because they simply can’t contain a plot in a few thousand words; one of my favourite non-fiction writers is now publishes historical novels that are so bad they make me want to stick things in my eyes.

In part this is because we read different materials differently: for example, if you’re writing online material, you need to ‘front load’ your piece more (people may not even see more than the first paragraph, and they have less patience if you’re obscure in your opening text). While a killer opener is important for a book (or play, or short story), readers tend to be more patient – they are willing to enjoy a slow burn, to let you layer information and to take a longer route to where you’re going. With blogging, too, there is a tendency to accept a certain lack of polish: you often write quickly, and post without much re-editing, while longer prose often requires a willingness to edit, and re-edit , and to be brutal with yourself over what you keep in and what you lose.

The other issue with blogging is that you can end up running to stand still: you write and write and write without ever actually ending up with an end product you can use. I’m not saying there’s no benefit to blogging for the sake of it – I do that myself, it’s enormously enjoyable – and some blogs, depending on style and topic, can actually add up to a cohesive whole. I’m also not a snob about it – I don’t think there’s anything wrong with being ‘just’ a blogger (and there are plenty of people who are very successful at this – it’s nothing to be snippy about). But it’s also tempting to tell yourself you’re moving forward in your goal to write a book, when all you’re doing is creating content for a blog.

Given all that – it’s still advice I’d stand by. Blogging is fun, it’s a great way of connecting with people (and helping build a ready-made audience if you do eventually publish a book), and getting into the habit of regular writing is a discipline that will serve you well. But as with so many other aspects of being a writer, the trick is being honest with yourself: if you’re using it as an excuse to procrastinate or put off a ‘proper’ project, then it’s not doing you any favours, and you may be better going offline.  


Excuse me!


"Quit whining and get writing."

Picture an office, the frosted glass door emblazoned with the words: Writing Agony Uncle. A writer, clutching a bunch of rejection letters and a hefty manuscript, taps timidly on the doorframe.

"It's open."

The writer touches the door handle, feeling his sweat against the brass.

"Take a seat."

The Agony Uncle leans back in his seat, feet on the desk. He's wearing a Sam Spade fedora. "Shoot."

The writer slumps into a chair, wondering why the office decor dates to the 1930s. He passes over his rejection slips. "It's just not fair!"

The Agony Uncle flicks through the pages, nodding at the occasion titbit of feedback. "Of course it ain't fair, you stoopid Limey." (He's American.) "Who said it's supposed to be fair? It's nature - survival of the thickskinned. Kill or be killed. Use what you got." He senses a bunch of excuses are about to be pitched his way and picks pulls a baseball bat out of the drawer.

"I'm too old to be a successful writer."

"Funny you should say that. Helen Hooven Santmyer was published at 88."

"Well, then I'm too young to be a successful writer."

"Interesting. Christopher Beale had a book launch for This and Last Season's Excursions when he was six years old."

"Okay, but I've had too many rejections to be a successful writer."

"Four words - Gone with the Wind." (Reputed to have earned 38 rejections.)

I've had too few rejections to be a successful writer.

(Flicks through the sheets.) "Somehow I doubt that! What else ya got, kid?"

"I'm not educated enough, I'm too unphotogenic to be an author, and I don't have the right connections."

The Agony Uncle is silent for a while, weighing the bat in his hand. "I hear your pain, kid; sure I do. But you're missing the point. And the point is..."

(After a long pause.) "To...erm...write?"

"Bingo. Write a compelling, knock-me-down-on-my-ass novel and see how those hang-ups fade to the background. Sure, get an education; get some professional headshots - or a stand-in; network and schmooze until you get an 'in'. But remember that the writing comes first. Okay?"

"Okay."

"Now, move along. I've got a two o'clock who's struggling to match the success of her first novel. Jeez, you writers - you'e never content!"


So, what are your excuses and how do you overcome them?

Writing in Real Time


This might sound familiar.  This is how a typical wordcount happens in my own ‘Real Time’ i.e. including all the interruptions, distractions and meandering trains of thought.  These words are fresh and in no way represent anything I’ve ever written (nor perhaps ever will).

The banks of the river lay heavy with morning dew, the fronds wait a minute, ‘fronds’, is that the right word or do I mean fernds? No, surely there’s no such word as ‘fernds’, I’m thinking of ‘ferns’ but I don’t think ferns grow by water do they? Aren’t they more… tropical?  Okay, I’ll have to Google it. Oh… look… Fern Britten’s lost a lot of weight lately hasn’t she?  And that Jennifer Aniston (“did you mean ‘Friends’?”) should start using a better hair colour, you can tell it’s not real….  

*PING* Oooh look… Pizza Express are doing one of those lovely offers; two main meals for a tenner… what should I do? Are we going out between those dates? Should I just delete it in case it entices me, or should I keep it in case the Girl wants to use it with her friends?  I’ll quickly text her to see if she needs the voucher saving. 

Okay definitely fronds.  That’s fine.  I’ll go with fronds.  But where was I going next?  Do I really want my banks heavy with morning dew? Now that I’ve seen before and after pictures of Fern Britten I’m less inclined to go with heavy.  Oh god now I can feel a biscuit coming on.

*PHONE* “No, we’re fine.  No, we had it done a few years ago.  Yes, very happy thank you.  No.  Yes.  No.  Not really.  Okay then not AT ALL. Yes our Soffits and Fuschias are just dandy thank you!”
Maybe I shouldn’t have had that biscuit, now my head hurts.  Or perhaps it was the sales call. Where was I?  Oh the Girl’s texted back.  She doesn’t need the voucher but can I take her to her friend’s house tomorrow night.  I don’t know.  I could say yes but we might be doing something else.  I’ll have to text the hubster just to make sure.  

So fronds it is then. 
Camberley Abbey stood regal and proud in the grounds beyond.  Its splendour shone from the majestic leaded windows on the upper floors to the heavy dark oaked doors beneath.  Wait; is it oaked or oak?  If something been ‘oaked’ does that mean it’s been, like, treated with Oak – as in laminated?  I don’t think a majestic splendid Abbey would have laminated doors, would it?  And heavy?  Again with heavy?  Okay how about In the distance, Camberley Abbey’s splendour shone with majestic leaded windows on the upper floors to the great wooden doors below.  Now that’s just stupid. Nothing shines with lead and wood, does it, FFS. God I HATE descriptive stuff.  Why can’t I just cut out the middle man (like, agents, publishers etc) and go straight to film? That way I wouldn’t have to bloody worry about my heavy flippin’ fronds and my majestic laminate doors. They'd just BE THERE.

*PING* Oh, one of my Strictly teammates has a technical problem.  Should I help or should I let someone else handle it?  If I try to help I’m going to get distracted.  But I don’t want to seem rude by not responding.  And aren’t I already distracted by worrying that I might get distracted?  I’ll see if there’s anything I can do. 

*BRRRR* (that’s the mobile – just to differentiate between that and the *PHONE* landline) Yep, that’s fine.  Two o’clock.  Yes.   What, aren’t you coming with them?  But we gave you a key and everything.  But I might be… yes, we are serious about selling but… yes I know, I’m just concerned that… no, it’s fine.  Yep, sure.  Yes, lovely. I’ll see them then.

Right I definitely need a biscuit now.  This is ridiculous.  What are we paying an Estate Agent for if WE have to do the showing around ourselves?  I could probably have run up some details and stuck an advert on the RightMove website myself for less that we’ll end up paying them to do just this.  I’m cross.  I need to calm down.  I need a cup of tea and then I’ll see how quickly I can cobble together some house details and photos.  Ha – maybe I’ll have a change of career.  Then I could do one of those pieces in Good Housekeeping* about how I changed my life at 49 and ‘found myself’.  I’ve always wanted to find myself.  I’ve looked everywhere…

*TEXT ALERT* Ah.  We’re not doing anything tomorrow night.  Hang on, though, why do I need to know this again?  What was I doing with this information? He’s either being deliberately obtuse or I’ve forgotten… ah wait, yes, it’s coming back to me now… I have to text the Girl .

*PING* Ah the Strictly techie problem is sorted.
*PING*  the Strictly techie problem is sorted.
*PING* the Strictly techie problem is sorted. Yes I know that.
*PING* Aaaargghhhh the Strictly techie problem is sorted.
We’re  such a helpful lot, arent’ we?  Maybe I should just turn off e-mail alerts.  But what if something REALLY important comes through, like encouraging news from an Agent.  I’m sure there’s at least ONE agent out there who hasn’t vilified the last three chapters I sent off.  In fact to save them the time and trouble perhaps I’ll send them a ‘multiple choice tick-off’ postcard with the next lot of submissions I send out.  IF I send any out that is, if I haven’t left the country or stuffed stones in my pockets and wandered off into the nearest….. ah… my fronds… my majestic abbey….

*MIIIAAAAOWWWWW*

I don't really need the wordcount icon on my computer.  I can count to ten by eye!

 *Other glossies are available.






Don't let the grass grow...

I remember when all this was fields...
No, the picture is not our garden, but only because Anne wouldn't let it (or rather, let me let it) get to that stage. It's actually a small walled field up above the coast. Today it's filled with campion, but if you'd visited back in February, as we did, you'd have seen a gorgeous swathe of daffodils.

Timing is everything, and everything has its moment. Often we don't realise that until the moment has passed. The thing we meant to say in anger or in affection, that amazing piece of dialogue we meant to write down just as soon as we'd had that next sip of coffee. Each moment is precious because that exact moment will never return.

The magical first draft of a novel can be a little like those daffodils. Suddenly, after a pleasant hike, there it is - beaming at you. A field of campion, perhaps, is more like the subsequent edits. There's beauty there too, but you have to look harder for it. And it can be darn congested in there! No point wishing you were back in the time of daffodils - things have moved on and you're no longer the same writer anyway.

With all that in mind, it's crucial to seize the day and write when inspiration grabs you (and sometimes even more important to do so when it doesn't). How many notebooks lie at the back of a drawer, gathering dust, only to see the light of day at a time when 'man loses train ticket - chance encounter' no longer triggers that prize-winning story you were sure you were going to write?

So, as spring's showing of colour slowly but surely gives way to summer's pageant, let me ask you:


  • What stories have you been meaning to write?
  • How many neglected notebooks are eager for your attention?
  • What have you been putting off that would help your writing?
  • What would you like to look back upon and see that you've completed? (An old coaching trick!)
Because, before you know it, that field will be full of foxgloves and we'll all be wondering where the time went!




NaNoWriMo - Nine Days In

I’m ‘nano-ing’ this year, or supposed to be. So far, and despite many hours of plotting and planning, I’ve written an unimpressive 4000 words and have come up with new and inspiring ways to procrastinate. I should forget novels and write a book on new avoidance tactics. Here’s an example of Monday’s frivolous antics:


“I wander lonely in a shroud
Floating high, my shroud has frills
When all at once I hear a sound
Bang bang they go, the daffodils
Beside the lake beneath the trees
I fluff my frills in the cold breeze”

I know. By Tuesday I was thinking of admitting myself somewhere, especially after I’d compiled the second verse. You ready?

“Continuous as the stars that shine
My billowing shroud wants its say
It stretches towards an alpine pine
While all the time the daffs they pray
Their sound it puts me in a trance
I join their chant and start to dance”

What can I say, except maybe apologise to Mr Wordsworth, whose work I revered until this week. As well as poetry desecration, I found myself putting on unnecessary clothes washes, trying to come up with new Christmas recipes, shopping online, facebook-ing, emailing, and yes, I could even be found loitering with intent on Twitter...

This is all because I’m forcing myself to write a story that I’m not sure I want to write. Has anyone else had this problem? I keep telling myself to keep calm and carry on, that it’s only one month and it might actually take a turn somewhere in the process that could lead to an interesting lead at least. I’ve done ‘Nano’ before and I’m a HUGE fan but right now, I fear for the poets. I really do.

On a serious note, all the faffing around has actually helped me clarify that I should be brave and try another idea for another novel. It’s only the 9th today and since this one just isn’t coming out the way I want it to, I actually feel that the rest of November would be wasted if I continue. I simply can't keep writing just for writing's sake. I have to want to tell the story. The characters have to be demanding to be heard, and they're not. They're giving me time off to write rubbish poetry. (Rod, your crown is safe...)

Rest easy poets of the world... I have a new plan and not having had time to plot, well let the pantsing begin.

The answer is in your back yard

In a recent moment of non-inspiration, I decided to seek advice about my WIP. Getting proper advice, however, is quite time-consuming and potentially expensive, so instead I spent a few minutes consulting the free online version of The Book of Answers. The idea is that you contemplate your question and then click to reveal the words of wisdom by which you should live the remainder of your life. I started with the obvious:

Me: Is my work-in-progress any good?
Book of answers: ASK YOUR MOTHER

Well, I could, but she's a bit biased and I was actually asking you. So, do you think it's any good?
OF COURSE

Oh! Super! But are you sure anyone would really buy a novel about Victorian quackery and freak shows?
IT'S GONNA BE GREAT

How am I going to sort out this whole business of Dr Rasmussen's narrative being in diary format and Tilly's in retrospective first person?
ASK YOUR FATHER

That's all very well, but what if I were an orphan?
THE ANSWER IS IN YOUR BACKYARD

So the answer is dog shit?
YES

Intriguing... perhaps it's time to move on to some questions about writing 'rules'. Are adverbs a Bad Thing?
SEEK OUT MORE OPTIONS

What about speech tags other than 'said'?
YES

Yes that they're a Bad Thing?
YES

'Well, that's pretty conclusive,' she intoned noddingly. Should I avoid the verb 'to be' at all costs?
TRUST YOUR INTUITION

Should I only write what I know?
THE ANSWER MAY COME TO YOU IN ANOTHER LANGUAGE

Do you mean the answer might come to me in another language, or that it is permitted to do so?
A YEAR FROM NOW IT WON'T MATTER.

Very true. A year from now, will I be dead?
FINISH SOMETHING ELSE FIRST

So, if I never finish anything, I'll live forever. Do you agree?
OF COURSE

Nice one! But in the words of Queen, Who wants to live forever?
GENTLE PERSISTENCE WILL PAY OFF

An eternity of gentle persistence doesn't sound that appealing really. Back to the writing questions... should the passive voice be used?
TRUST YOUR INTUITION

Are there any circumstances in which it's all right to tell rather than show?
TRUST YOUR INTUITION

I sense that you've given up with this whole advice thing. I suppose I should actually go and write something rather than arsing about here, shouldn't I?
YES.