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I’ve never done improv theatre, which sounds, honestly, like a living nightmare, but I have known people who partake, and thus I know that, according to the Upright Citizens Brigade anyway, an important mantra for those in the Lifestyle is: Don’t Think. It makes sense — it’s hard to be funny if you’re overthinking, or being too cautious.
Sketch comedy dreams/nightmares aside, overthinking can also be deadly for a writer.
Yes, even though most of what writers do is think.
Because here’s the thing — it matters where you expend all that thinking energy. You want to think about your characters, or if you’re writing nonfiction, the people in your work. You want to think about your plot, or whatever the shape of the piece is. Eventually, you want to think about your sentences and word choice. Eventuallyer, you want to think about rhythm and pacing. And then, if you haven’t done this bit already, you’ll need to zoom way out and think about your reader.
Before all that, however, you have to not think.
Years ago I got a phone call from a poet friend who was devastatingly blocked, who hadn’t been able to write, in fact, since leaving his Very Fancy graduate program. “I just can’t figure out,” he said, “what I should be writing. You know? What is the best sort of poem? What kind of poetry should I focus on? What is the point of poems anyway? Why does poetry exist? Do you get stuck this way?”
With a pragmatism I apparently have always had — because although I often chalk up my writing-life-practicality to motherhood, this was before I had kids — I said something like, “Uh, it sounds like maybe you have too much time to think?”
“You’re right,” he said glumly, “and even so, during the time when I should be writing, I just end up spinning my wheels about all this abstract shit.” I mean, I’m sure he said something more original than “spinning my wheels,” he was a very good poet actually, but as I recall this was the drift.
I knew what he was talking about, of course I did. I’d had these dark moments of the writing soul many times. But in the end, this line of thinking is exquisitely useless. As Sister Corita Kent says, in her wonderful 10 Rules: “Don’t try to create and analyse at the same time. They’re different processes.”
I’ve worked with many writers who allow this impossible question — What Should I Be Writing? — to torture them into stagnancy. I have to figure out what this project is before I begin it, is a common refrain. Or: I’m trying to decide what my favorite sort of essay is before I write mine. Or: I’m not sure what will become of this memoir/novel/poetry collection, so I need to figure that out before I start.
Now, how on earth is a person is supposed to figure out what a thing is before the thing exists? It’s like a weird quantum physics experiment. What is a thing before it exists? I mean, okay yes I understand that perhaps the way we experience linear time is an illusion, and the future already exists, sure, why not. But does that help you write your short story? No, no I don’t believe it does.
Related to this — I often suspect it’s better to start writing with a question, rather than an answer. If you knew why that one-night stand still stuck with you years later, you wouldn’t have to write a poem about it, now would you? If you totally understood the connections between the history of your house and your current life, you might not be interested in writing an essay on the topic, right?
And sure, you need some whiff of an idea to write about, unless you have a vast amount of patience for aimless freewriting until you land on something that sticks. But what I’m saying is, you don’t have to answer all the questions about the realm of literature before you write a page, and in fact that sort of questioning might just be your resistance talking, while going in drag as part of the work.
Let me quote a great thinker: a guy I once sat near in the stands at a Brooklyn Cyclones game. Apparently frustrated with an overthinking, underacting companion, he shouted, “Okay, well, stop talking about it and start being about it!” (The motivational speech worked, and they soon launched from their seats in their noble quest for beer or soft serve in a plastic helmet or whatever.) My family and I thought this was as hilarious as it was good solid advice, and have often repeated it since, and now I paraphrase it to you: Stop talking about your writing, and start being about it.
Here’s how you do this, in two easy steps:
Stop talking about it
Start being about it
Got it?
Put it on the calendar — whether that’s an hour every day, two hours on Saturday, whatever conceivably fits. This can be a one-time thing, you don’t need a training schedule like you’re, I don’t know, a Brooklyn Cyclone. Next Whatever, commit to some writing time. And when the time comes, bat aside all existential questions of What a Person Ought to Write or What Shall Become of This Work and just do the actual work.
Because the work will probably tell you what it is. And what’s more, you’re probably not actually capable of writing an infinitude of possible works. I mean, you are very talented and smart, don’t get me wrong. But most likely, you already have a writing voice and style that suits you best, and a particular kind of thing you are capable of doing. So just, you know, do that thing.
And like improv comedians on stage (you like that callback?), you’ll know when you’re on the right track.
Exercise: Without thinking too much about it, answer this question for yourself: What’s the thing you know better than anyone else? Write about it.
Got a manuscript that needs an edit? Looking for a regular writing coach or accountability partner? Head to my website and book some time to chat — I’m now booking private clients for August and beyond 🌞
this is so helpful! I was explaining to someone recently all these problems I've been having with a new poetry project I've been edging my way around--and she looked at me and said, "I think you're getting ahead of yourself," which is of course a variation on what you've written here--that the way to figure it out is by getting into it
How did you get inside my brain? I am printing this piece (yes, printing) and taping it to the wall above my desk. ☘️