Processing
So it turns out that I can write a book and also do other things, but writing a book plus anything else equals total disaster for the rest of my life. The last couple of weeks, I’ve been working on the new column for Redbook (the first one will appear in the January 2010 issue), so I neglected some other matters. Like remembering to eat, or talking to people. Also writing in this here blog.
And. And I just stared into space for about fifteen minutes while I tried to think of something else to write. Listen. I know you didn’t need to know that. I realize you are not reading this as I write. I thought I’d take you along for a minute on my mind journey. If it’s going to go blank for a bit, why shouldn’t you know? Don't you want to join me in my fugue state?
When I say I spent the last couple of weeks writing my Redbook column, what I mean is that I spent one week hiding under the duvet insisting that I have nothing worthwhile to say to anyone, and another week hiding under the duvet, emerging to tap out a few words, running around screaming that I’m a worthless hack, and then diving headfirst back under the duvet. You think I’m exaggerating, don’t you? I can see it on your face. All right, maybe I’m exaggerating a little, shut up.
I don’t know if writing is this way for anyone else, but when I’m faced with a deadline, the few days beforehand are torture. (And yet I could never get anything done without a deadline. And meeting a deadline is an unparalleled relief.) The only way I can get anything done is the following: I must 1) wear a hooded robe or sweater, hood up, and 2) put a blanket over my head, so as to create another hood over the hood, and if that’s not enough I 3) close my eyes while writing. Is that not utterly pathetic? I have to squirrel myself away in a cocoon of emotional comfort so that I can (sometimes tearfully) bang out the last few words I require to get the job done. But for whatever reason, this works for me.
I mentioned some of my bizarre habits to my Redbook editor (on whom I may have a burgeoning girl-crush—but I won’t admit to anything, except secretly when I whisper it in my pillow), and she seemed unfazed. She said brightly, “Well, that’s your process!”
So I am not insane. I have figured out my process. And you? Do you have one? Come on, admit it.










November 10, 2009
Reader Comments (94)
Hell, I'm in agony just trying to come up with something to write in this "Comment" block. I feel all the eyes of all the writers in the world looking at me and the worthless drivel I type as I'm typing it and it makes me want to highlight the whole shebang and hit the "Delete" key and crawl under my desk so I can contemplate pursuing a career in hamburger-flipping or some other suitable vocation that doesn't involve writing things that obviously suck more than anything has ever before sucked in the history of sucking.
So, yeah, like that.
But still. I want to write. I want to do it more than I want to do anything else. Which is mostly to say that I don't want to do anything at all.
I'm an academic, I have to write constantly and it's absolutely no different. it's why we have conferences, so there is an actual deadline to do something.
Read Bird by Bird. It's great.
Process? What is my process?
Did you have food with you under the duvet? Portable DVD player?
Oh yeah, process, ummm?
Wait, what was the question?
Ummm, to distract people enough so they forget what deadline means?
It's not unlike the time I had to have my gallbladder removed.
"A writer is someone for whom writing is more difficult than it is for other people." -Thomas Mann
I continue to do this 'process' for pretty much everything. It's always fine at work, but in every day life, I wait for things to blow up before dealing with them.
I did read this great article in the WSJ Friday though, profiling a few great authors and how they work (google "WSJ how to write a great novel" in case the link doesn't work. There are a few fab ideas!. I personally love the post-it-note guy.
http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10001424052748703740004574513463106012106.html
The problem is, can I get my creative genius up at 5 a.m.? I don't think so.
To this day I don't know if he's referring to my writing or the ecard. But I'm not brave enough to ask.
@BeingSuper
(Bonus: I just discovered Reese's peanut butter chips (baking aisle). These PLUS chocolate chips = Reese's Peanut Butter Cup Experience for a fraction of the cost.)
I'm actually a really fast writer once I stop procrastinating. But my process, I guess, is of procrastination until I get to a point where I am positive that there is no way I will be able to complete with assignment, at which point my stomach starts doing flips and I get really frantic and sweaty-palmed and then at the last possible moment I sit down and bang it out. Then, since I'm a journalist and there are generally lots of facts in the things I write, I spend the weeks leading up to publication in an agony of terror about possible mistakes. Only once the article has been out for a week or two and there haven't been any catastrophes can I fully relax. I'm sure this is great for my blood pressure.
I've often said that what I hate most about freelancing from home instead of working on staff at a magazine is that I no longer have the support of coworkers for the procrastination/self-loathing/writing cycle. We'd mostly go into each other's offices and whine about how screwed we were and how surely we'd be fired, then go write a couple paragraphs, rinse, repeat until the deadline was magically met. Now it's just me and CSI:NY reruns and self-loathing all by my lonesome!
In the meantime, I believe a few of the previous commenters have hit it on the head: Food. While hiding under the duvet, eat vast amounts of the least healthy snack items you can find at a convenience store (since convenience stores are known to carry much junkier stuff than any real grocery store). This activity spawns a variety of other time-consuming activities, like stripping the sheets to wash off the crumbs and chocolate stains, talking about how much you'll need to exercise to get rid of the just-ingested calories, and perhaps if you are particularly determined, actually exercising. By the time all this is completed, the deadline is one hour away and you have no choice but to meet it. Plus the work fills up that 50 minutes it takes the dryer to properly fluff your duvet cover.