Avoiding Disaster While Writing

I haven’t written in a while. I tell myself all kinds of lies about why, but I know these are merely excuses. I’ve written myself, once again, into a dangerous place from which recovery is questionable.

This is too common an occurrence to fool myself. It is also common enough that I’ve developed some methods to to avoid potential disasters in the first place, methods which I will share with you below.

This isn’t a block. I know what I want to write. I just don’t want to screw it up. I’m afraid. So, I suppose I’m stalling.

It would be nice to think this is the stalling referring to speech: the stalling of a person who clumsily searches the corners of their mind, muttering to those who are waiting in an effort to find something they have lost amid the clutter of their thoughts. That type of stalling feels purposeful and implies a forthcoming moment of brilliance.  

This is the other kind of stalling, like in an aircraft, like in an old bi-plane climbing up until you can no longer see the gap between the wings and it appears to stop in mid-air.

...and then tumbles down out of the sky. See point #1.

This is what happens when you write too long in your head (the wind howls and raises voices to shouts). You craft the entire story without realizing the innumerable holes and leaps and inconsistencies left between your thoughts (the sky spins as the craft falls through chilly vapor).

It leaves you riding a Icarean craft of doom as struts shake and the frame rattles wildly around you (a startled bird squawks and veers away). Like the lofty aims of your narrative, you fall precipitously as if the half-ton plane around you suddenly realized the weight of the metal and wood of which it was comprised. See point #2.

I’m not frightened of failing. Like I mentioned, this happens all too often (fingers lock and goggles slide on growing perspiration). But the boundless energy with which I had been writing and editing is now hurtling me toward the ground as I have failed to adequately prepare to reach my lofty aims.

Whether writing or flying an aircraft. At the heart of the problem, is momentum (the plane shudders as air batters surfaces it should slip past smoothly) In the initial creative process one feels unstoppable. An idea bursts into being like the spin of a propeller and carries you off into wild yonders. It is only once you are underway do you determine if you are prepared for the journey (dials rattle, save one: the fuel). See point #3. 

As with everything, practice helps (with a consciousness-twisting yank, the craft twists into form and sails off across the ground). Writers do not simply throw on a tweed jacket and horn-rimmed spectacles. However, practice doesn’t need to feel like grade-school penmanship exercises. Try writing that will stretch your skills, like blog posts, or overextended metaphors. 

But I also write short stories, little fictions about a few moments from the life of someone given far less attention. It is a little split-s, or loop-de-loop to help remind myself of my circumstances, to keep me focused and in practice. (despite torn wings the little craft twists and turns about in mid-air). It helps me remember that the time spent writing is valuable, but is supposed to be enjoyable, too. It also helps me avoid trying to fly off somewhere just to feel productive. See point # 4.

It also helps to remind myself that, like a plane is not intrinsically in flight, neither is a writer intrinsically writing. It is okay to not be writing: there is a lot that goes into writing success. For me, successful writing requires knowledge, exploration, planning, and practice.

It also involves taking risks: the risk of failure – the loss of invaluable time spent on something that amounts to nothing. To throw away a story, or an idea stings a lot more than windburn, but happens. In those cases, it stings a lot more than the crashing pain of true defeat and of placing everything on a single, errant gamble that goes so poorly one never writes again.  

Would it be nice for every story to become something great? Yes, but ultimately, that isn’t the goal. The goal is to write as often as possible and to enjoy the ride. Thus it is better to choose a little prep and patience and better prepare yourself for daring feats to come. Better than crashing and not going back. 

Four Points:

Point #1: Know your limits. And if you don’t know, learn. Know how much you write in a day, in a week, in a month. Know when you are most creative, most coherent, know the limit of when you will be undisturbed. That isn’t to say you shouldn’t stretch your limits, but do so tactically, rather than when you are under deadline.

Point #2: Explore your ideas first. Take time and toy with an idea before committing it to paper. Once there it becomes rigid and an obstacle. In your mind you can turn it over, examine it, and judge its quality much quicker and more thoroughly.  

Point #3: Plan your narrative. Plan the path you will take to your idea and then where you will end up. Part of the fun of writing is that stories and characters can be somewhat unpredictable. That does not mean we should write with no idea where we are trying to go.

Point #4: Practice. Whether you are writing an e-mail or a skit or a short story or a poem, you are writing. Some of what you try will carry over and at the very least, will exercise the skills you have in new ways. Just be sure to incorporate some fun and try and few loop-de-loops.