National Day on Writing Self Pep Talk (I Need This More Than You but Bear with Me)

Here are some thoughts I had while writing with my composition students the other day. As today is the National Day on Writing, I thought I would share them on the off chance that it helps someone else, too.

Ten more minutes to write. What would I do with more? A lot.

I’m starting to believe that my reluctance to throw myself into another writing project (and Writing Project) stems from a deep yet faulty belief that I don’t have enough time to do a good job, and like so many of my students continue in the false philosophy that it’s better to not even try than to try and fail. I often voice aloud that I am not afraid to fail (at writing…because that is what revision is for), but I think I really am.

 I claim that my most toxic enemy is time, or the apparent lack thereof. I don’t have enough. At least I don’t have the time I want/need to start and finish projects as I used to. Sure, time adds up, yes, but my inner self struggles to produce writing when I perceive that I don’t have wide-open slots on my schedule. Lately my available “free” time minutes have been relegated to numbers I can count on my fingers and toes.

And I’ll admit that it is true that ten or twenty minutes here and there could make a difference if I made use of said minutes. However, those small chunks don’t permit my mindset to allow flow to happen. (Thank you very much, Mr. Csikszentmihalyi.) It takes me that long to warm up. To be honest, when I have to quilt the piece scraps of time together, the patchwork writing isn’t as pleasurable for me. What’s the fun in turning it off before the engine is heated?

Here’s my thought—probably not new to any who might still be reading—but hang with me. What if I use those small snatches of seconds and the odd handful of minutes I do actually have to become more organized or methodical or strategic about what I write and what I do as a writer. It might seem to be more work—starting and stopping like a new driver on a clutch—but I might actually produce something. As a wise mentor once (or twice or a thousand times) told me, only writing produces text. Using my time this way might allow me to navigate the shallow waters my creative vessel has been treading lately. Yes, I am mixing my metaphors. Judge harshly! It doesn’t matter right now. What does is that I am writing.

It has been too long. I’ve lost my groove, and there is no one to blame and chuck out a window except me. I gotta get back on the bike, as I once told a crowd of English teachers at UCTE. Seriously! In the past three years, I have only presented at a conference once. Pathetic. 

I need to get over the ugly despair that falls when I can’t find a perfect description or if my alliteration is over the top; the writing on the wall (which is not mine, by the way) clearly dictates that I have to get back to work. I just have to write. I might need a stricter taskmaster, though.