Why I Write

I seem to be writing at a speed of about one notebook page every half hour, front and back. That's probably about one typed page. Today I caught myself adding up all the pages I haven't written. "And then I'll be writing 8-10 pages a week, which means I can have a first draft done in about 10 months, which means I can start looking for an agent in 14 months, which means I'll be rich and famous in less than four years!!!"

Oh, wait... I'm still on page four.

It's so easy to get ahead like that. In this day, especially, when it seems like anybody who's been addicted to something or hit by another person can write a best selling memoir. No, that's harsh. I know as well as anyone that good writers make their writing seem effortless, which is how hacks like me end up sitting around and believing anyone can write.

Refusing to think about publication, money, and recognition is a constant practice for me. I firmly believe that once an artist puts those things in the forefront they've ceased to make good art. So if I don't write for those things, why do I write? This is a question I try to avoid thinking about, because it plagues me and fills me with doubt. Nonetheless, it's an important one to answer.

Why do I write?

I write because living life once is not enough, and I need to reexperience life through writing to more fully understand it.
I write because I can't help but feel we are missing something, that there is a deeper meaning to what happens than the event itself, and only by examination and careful scrutiny can we come to see beneath the surface to what is holding us up.
I write because I become depressed when I stop, and I start to feel like a worthless lump of uselessness.
I write because it makes me happy.
I write because great writers inspire me to emulate them.
I write because I don't want to die without having contributed something lasting and meaningful.

Those are the (positive) answers I've come up with so far. It's so tempting to give up this pursuit. I've tried many times, thinking how much easier my life would be if I went to work and then came home to an evening of just hanging out, cooking, watching movies... Instead I have this constant awareness that I need to write. I don't know where it comes from, but I've had it since I was eleven or twelve years old! Maybe I'm channeling some dead person who never got their chance to break out...

Still enjoying Nick Hornby's book. I'm a slow reader, as I intersperse my fiction with magazine articles, newspapers, blogs, etc. I'm reading an article in the New Yorker about Paulo Coelho, the Brazilian author. I've never read anything of his, but now am inspired to read The Alchemist. Talk about the glamorous writer's life! He has hundreds of fans waiting for him wherever he goes, and he goes everywhere. Yea.

(photo of ernest hemingway)

How To Stay Awake

Today I wrote for thirty minutes and it went well.

I made a schedule, which always makes me feel as though I will actually accomplish all I set out to do in life. Alas, it is infinitely easier to make a schedule than to follow one. On this schedule, I will write for thirty minutes four days a week, and four hours one day a week, with the weekend off.

This weekend went well. I tried to write on Saturday, just because I was on a roll and had an unexpected free hour at work. I ended up fast asleep, sprawled across several pillows, drooling onto my notebook. Yesterday I didn't write at all, though I'd agreed to for thirty minutes in the evening. Instead I went shopping with my boyfriend and made the mistake of having a beer with dinner. Beer often puts me right to sleep. So I ended up asleep in the middle of reading a New Yorker article, not having written for the day.

Today I wrote earlier, which I think is a better plan for me. I often fall asleep if I try to read or write in the late afternoon or evening. So I'll do my writing before I go to work, before I do other things, and see how that goes.

Another note, I read once that Ernest Hemingway advised to never stop writing at a point where you feel stuck. He said to stop in the middle of a really great stretch, when you want to keep going and you know what happens next. I think this is great advice and try to follow it. I can say that it definitely makes a difference for me!

Day One

Here I am, thumbs up, ready to begin.

It's nearly one in the afternoon and I haven't written yet. I'm still in my bathrobe. But I've been blogging, and that takes time! I picked up a shift at work tonight, so I plan on writing when I get home.

Later...
I got off work early, came home and played on my computer. Then went out with my sister and her new "boyfriend" (not quite serious enough yet to use that term) down to the bar where my boyfriend dj's. We ate, drank, smoked cigarettes and had a jolly time. Then I returned home after midnight and wrote for half an hour. I sketched the outline for my novel and wrote the first two lines. One step at a time, baby. One step at a time.

Today I bought a copy of How to Be Good by Nick Hornby. I already love it. I'm a fan of humor (and humour) and poignancy, of which this book has loads. It occurred to me that what's been lacking from the novel in my head is humor, that all important element, so I rewrote the synopsis with humor in mind and I think it's way better. Whaddya know?

The Four Things a Writer Needs

This is a web log about my journey to the life of a professional writer. I plan to post at least five days a week, both as a writing practice and to share my journey with all the writers, artists, and musicians out there who struggle to find the time/energy/inspiration to make art. Even if I have to write about how I'm not writing, my goal is to keep up on this blog until I have become a successful writer. By successful writer I mean earning enough money from writing that it becomes my only job. It may never happen or it could take decades. We'll see!

I'm scared writing this blog because people will see just how lame my writing is, how bad my grammar, how entrenched my habit of procrastination, and how strong my fear. But my unwillingness to reveal these things has kept me from sharing my writing. And I can't live like that anymore. After years of neglect, my writing self is wilting up into a shriveled shell and taking the best of me with her. I can no longer pretend I was made to be a massage therapist or waitress, a bartender or nanny, a woodworker or gardener. I have known I'm a writer since I was nine and it's time to come out and be one!

At this point I could go on about how I got to where I am, why I want to be a writer, yaddah-yaddah. Instead, I will jump right into the meat of it and let stories of the past dribble out if they need to.

The first thing a writer needs is some sort of writing instrument. After years of writing on a computer I've recently returned to writing first drafts with pen and paper. I think my writing is better this way, more substantial and beautiful. The next thing a writer needs is time to write. Of this I have loads, it's just a matter of devoting my time to writing instead of sleeping in, watching TV, and other methods of time murder. I haven't firmly decided on a writing schedule, but I sense it would be a wise thing to do. I feel certain I can devote thirty minutes a day in the beginning and go from there. The third thing a writer needs is something to write about. And I have a novel in my head.

I woke up, months ago, with an entire novel in my head. How often does that happen? Not often to me, anyway. I am intensely drawn to writing a novel and have started dozens but finished none. I think this novel appearing right inside my brain, as if it were placed there, is an opportunity I can't pass up. But besides the novel, I am zinging with ideas for short stories, memoirs, articles, poems, songs, nonfiction, you name it. Ideas have never been difficult for me. (In fact, I think I have too many ideas, which end up getting in the way of each other.) It's the follow through that eludes me. The turning my idea into a finished piece of writing. No good at it. I've done it, I can do it, but I fail most of the time that I try. Which brings me to the last thing a writer needs: the ability to follow through. This is what I don't have. But I think I can learn it and use it.

On to the blog!