At some points in my life, I’ve been an every-day writer. When I am, it feels great—much better than being a once-a-week writer or a when-the-world-stops-spinning-and-I-can-think-again writer. And because I actually feel my best as an every-day writer, I frequently find myself trying to become one once again.
Whenever I’m shifting back into writing daily, I have to work my way back in gently. I can’t sit down and say, “Hey, today I’m gonna work on my play!” That sort of high-stakes thinking might freeze my writer-self right up. Instead, I need to sidle up to her and be disarming, tell her “We’re just gonna write down our feelings,” or “We’re gonna carve out space to just ‘be.’”
If I do this well, all those worries I had an hour ago (about having nothing to say, about being too public) don’t catapult to the surface wearing with their Edward Munch faces, and I might actually put some words on the page. For some of us, this low-stakes approach—writing about ourselves as a way of getting to the point of writing other things—works pretty well.
Of course, for some people, the thought of writing about themselves—especially their feelings–is about as much fun as shingles. I live with some of these people, and they have made it clear to me on more than one occasion that writing about feelings is NOT a clarifying or comforting activity and it will NOT lead them to churn out pages about, for example, Sir Isaac Newton, the telegraph, or recent developments in space flight.
If these people are having trouble getting started, and only if they ask for my help, I tend to rummage in my shelves until I find Anne Lamott’s Bird by Bird. (Isn’t that a great title? It’s from a moment in Ann’s childhood when her brother was freaking out about the bird report he was writing, and their dad suggested, “Just take it bird by bird, buddy.”) Lamott is no stranger to the terrors of the empty page herself. One way she conquers it is by reminding herself that when she sits down to write, all she has to do is fill one picture frame.
Lamott actually keeps a tiny frame on her desk for this purpose, and if this idea appeals to you, you can too. The frame is there to remind you that you are not responsible for writing War & Peace or Finnegan’s Wake in one sitting. You’re only responsible for writing as much of your story (or essay, application, report, etc.) as you can view through one small picture frame.
Maybe that view is just big enough to show you an introduction or the beginning of an outline. Or maybe you peer into the frame and glimpse an idea from what will probably become page 3, and it’s pressing itself forward now to be reckoned with first. (For the record, I’m a big believer that if parts of your story press forward to be reckoned with first, you take care of them. If they’ve got something to say, it’s your job to listen.)
For a lot of writers, 10-15 minutes of low-stakes warm-up writing makes all the difference in what they can get done that day. What are your favorite ways to get started?