How To Pace Yourself in the Writing Trenches

Kids are away for the weekend, and my husband and I are sitting in our bedroom, with the two whiteboards out, brainstorming what comes next in our creative endeavors.

He looks at my side, all those ideas I’ve listed noncommittally, and he says, That looks like a lot.

And I know what he’s saying. It looks like too much.

I can do it, I say. He shrugs a little and turns back to the boards. So I say, Some of those I don’t really have to do. They’re just ideas for now.

But the truth is, I want to do them all.

There is so much I want to do, so many stories and poems and pieces of my heart that want to be written. But there is only a limited amount of time, a limited amount of me.

I wish it weren’t so. I wish I could spend hours and hours every day creating and writing and brainstorming into being all the bare-bone ideas that come calling. I keep a journal full of these ideas, short stories and novels and nonfiction books that wait for writing, and that list doesn’t seem to be getting any shorter. I add to it every week.

How do we who are bursting with ideas find the discipline to take it one at a time?

There is no easy answer to this.

Because sometimes we will start on one project and find that we don’t have the time needed to make it good or lovely or interesting; or we find we don’t have the passion for it, at least right now; or we find we don’t have all the details worked out and need to let it sit for a while.

There is no shame in starting and then putting aside, as long as it doesn’t stay put aside.

Sometimes we move through seasons where we can work on multiple projects—crafting a book of poetry at the same time we’re writing a novel that’s waited years to see paper—and our creativity still feels alive and eager and magical. And sometimes we move through seasons when we can barely fit in the time to work on one project, even though more ideas are pelting us in the back when we turn away.

It’s not easy to remember that there is a time for everything.

[Tweet “There’s a time for everything. We may not be able to get to that creative project now–but we will.”]

I’m not so great, sometimes, at recognizing my circumstantial limits—because I love what I do and I just want to write and who cares if I’m working on ten projects all at the same time. It always seems like the right time to me.

But if we are pursuing an idea out of season, we are bearing fruit that is expensive and sour, fruit that steals valuable resources from other projects that might be entering the perfect season. So it’s not worth it to cram our schedule full of so many projects, because we can only tell our stories and write our whole hearts well if we’re doing it in the right season.

Sometimes it’s the right season for poetry. Sometimes it’s the season for that fantasy novel we’ve been setting aside for too long now. Sometimes it’s the season for 365 essays that turn into an unexpected book.

We must determine the season and then fit those projects in the right places, understanding that “not now” doesn’t mean “never.”

We do ourselves no favors trying to tackle too many projects and not giving any of them the time they really deserve. We do ourselves no favors trying to start a new project every time we think of one and rushing through the finish of the old one we honestly don’t have much interest in anymore now that this new idea has come along. There is discipline in the finishing, in the saying, “not right this minute” to the new projects breathing on our necks.

I take my time, because I know that, eventually, I will get to those other forty-five projects (as of today) on my brainstorm list.

[Tweet “Our creative projects deserve time. We can’t create well if we’re always rushing to the next thing.”]

And if I don’t, well, then, maybe they weren’t such great ideas after all.

How to Pace Yourself in the Writing Trenches:

1. Keep a brainstorm journal.

I carry a journal around everywhere I go. Every time I think of a new idea, I write it down. For novel ideas, I start a new page, and every time I have some sort of inspiration about the novel, I record it all on the page–so when I have time to actually sit down and brainstorm that particular novel, I’ll be prepared with all the thoughts that have come before. For short stories, I’ll typically jot down a potential title or a short sentence that details what the story will be about. For poems or essays, I usually write down the gist of what it will be about, so it can sit in my subconscious for a while.

Here’s another hack, if you’re like me: Index cards. I carry them around with me everywhere. I use these to jot down plot points of books I haven’t started writing yet. Sometimes I’ll be out watching a movie with my husband, and I’ll think of a scene for a book that’s on my “to-get-to” list. I’ll just jot down the scene and add it to the stack of notecards about that book. This helps me feel like I’m working on the book when I’m really just letting it slowly develop without any pressure.

2. Ask “What do I feel most passionate about right now?”

It’s not easy to get started on a book we don’t really feel passionately about. So what are we thinking about right now? Are we in a social justice frame of mind? Is there a book of ours that would help us explore that frame of mind? Are we in a humorous season of our life? Do we have a humorous book on our list that’s been waiting to be written?

I like to try to pair up my frame of mind with whatever it is I choose to write next. So if I’m having a really hard time balancing work with home responsibilities, I’ll write essays exploring that. If I’m thinking a lot about that homeless guy I met downtown last week and I want people to understand the homeless more, I’ll pick up the novel about homelessness and get to work.

When we match our passion of the moment with our next project, the writing comes much more easily.

3. Remind yourself (often) that there is a time for everything.

I know as much as anyone how hard it is to not chase down every single idea that comes up in my mind. I tend to be one of those writers who believes that every story should be told (I had the same philosophy as a journalist–which meant our features section had some quirky, interesting stories that might not otherwise have been told. I believe it was an asset to the paper). I actually disagree with the writing philosophy that says sometimes you’ll find, in the middle of your writing, that a story isn’t working, so you should just abandon it. Every story can be fixed. Every story can be made beautiful.

But that doesn’t change the fact that stories can’t be told all at once. If you feel the pressure to get to every one of your ideas right away, go back to what you have already accomplished and note the dedication and time it took to get even one book out there. Celebrate. Remind yourself that you’ve done it once, so you can do it again. Those books on your list will get written. But to write them well, you’ll have to take your time.

And maybe, in time, you’ll find that you don’t actually want to write them all. That’s okay. You’ll have plenty more ideas where those came from.

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