āIām not a big believer in disciplined writers. What does discipline mean? The writer who forces himself to sit down and write for seven hours every day might be wasting those seven hours if heās not in the mood and doesnāt feel the juice. I donāt think discipline equals creativity.ā ~ BRET EASTON ELLIS
The sentiment above has always been my mantra, but Iāll get to that in a moment. I thought it was high time that I get to an explanation of why your favorite writing site is operated by a person who doesnāt write. Well, I have often spoken of how a progressive teacher sparked my love for writing at the age of ten, and I owe her a great debt for so doing, but even back then a teacher would say, āYou write now,ā and depending on whether I was āfeeling the juice,ā it could be great or garbage.
It has ever been the same. In the probably half a century that Iāve been writing seriously, that is, with the thought that I might be published, I have heard writer after successful writer say that you have to set aside a time every day to write, undisturbed, whatever presents itself to your creative mind. I guess maybe they were right, as I never achieved any success beyond garnering a handful of fans for my self-published works.
Maybe I should blame that fifth-grade teacher for making me feel like a child-prodigy who was earmarked for greatness, but that wouldnāt be right. She didnāt make me feel anything; I reached that conclusion on my own. During the year since I published my final Vella story, Iāve made a number of conflicting statements, so Iām here today to bring everyone up to date on where I am in the process.
I began my first blog in 2011, Jackās Hideout. It was a mishmash of anything that took my fancy, book and movie reviews, fun things the fam had done together, just odds and ends, you know? It still exists today, though itās no longer open to the public. I canāt bring myself to delete it, as it was my first contact with the wide world of the internet. Nostalgia, I guess. In 2013 I self-published Beyond the Rails and began to talk about it on my blog. People āin the knowā at the time, proto-influencers, I suppose, were talking about how blogs were dead, and would soon be replaced by podcasts and Twitter. But a blog was all I knew how to run, so I kept running it. Now the self-appointed gurus are saying that Twitter ā sorry, X ā is being replaced by Instagram and Snap-Chat, and probably something newer by the time this post goes up. But Iāve run half a dozen blogs in the interim, including this one, and blogs are still doing fine.
Me, not so much. I published my last Vella around Halloween of 2022. On November 11th, flush with success and expecting more to come faster than I could write it down, I started this blog. Alas, I havenāt felt the juice since. I have sat down to blank pages. Iāve bought a book that was supposed to spark an interest I thought I felt in the private eye genre. Iāve drawn cards from my StoryMatic card deck. Heck, Iāve even tried discipline, sitting down mornings and some evenings to by God write. Nothinā.
I’ve had many hobbies over during my life. I’ve built scale models, I’ve been a table-top wargamer, I’ve explored the SoCal deserts from behind the wheel of several off-roaders. Each of them has faded away, becoming less interesting over a period of weeks or months, until I eventually realized that “Hey, I don’t do that anymore.” That’s now happening with writing. As I said in that paragraph above, I find no pleasure in it any longer. I sit down to do it and all I can think about is what I’d rather be doing, and it isn’t just playingĀ Fallout 4Ā orĀ XCom;Ā sure, those are expected. No, I find that, given the choice, I’dĀ ratherĀ wash dishes or weed out the garden. That isn’t a choice I sat down and made after careful deliberation. That’s just the way it is.
But Iāll never quit trying to tell that elusive tale. I’m looking at short stories now, novellas at the longest, and am currently being led along a path of crime. I’m never far from my notebook (I’m very old-school), and a surprising amount of background material is accumulating there; should the juice ever return, I’ll have plenty to work with.
But Iām not going to worry about that. Iām going to ignore the crotchety old git that is my muse, and if he wants to come back and see why Iāve stopped chasing him, thatās his choice. Right now, my writing talents, such as they are, are going into this site, this blog, which despite all the premature announcements, isnāt dead yet. As you might imagine, in 66 years of pursuing what has ended up to me as a very time-consuming but enjoyable hobby, Iāve learned a few things, and Iām going to take my turn on the blog here to share some of them. Maybe theyāll help you. Maybe theyāll amuse you. Maybe theyāll turn that switch that will make you the next Stephen King or J.K. Rowling. In between, I’ll share some of the many stories I’ve written over the years that deserve to see the light of day. I ask that you take it for what it is and maybe even humor an old burnout with a comment now and then. Itās what makes all this worthwhile!
8 responses to “An Appalling Lack of Discipline”
I think it was Charles Bukowski who said something to the effect that when you’re suffering from writer’s block, you should write about that. Keep churning out these blog posts and no one will ever know.
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Good advice, my friend. I’ll let you know how it works out!
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I agree that discipline doesn’t equal creativity. I also think word count doesn’t equal achievement. Some writerly acquaintances of mine set a goal of N number of words written per day (or week, etc.; and not just for NaNoWriMo); and they think they’ve accomplished something if they reach that mark, even if it’s crap. I read somewhere that Hemingway said something like, 85% of what I write is sh*t, and I try to throw the sh*t in the trash.
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What an appalling waste of time! I’ve always felt like I can tell, and if I’m not “on” today, to come back when I am.
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This is me spot on. Weeks, months of not writing may pass. Then, boom! Huge storm of creative high, typing, plotting, note taking. Then back to zilch. I learned a few years ago to stop fighting it because if this is my brain’s way of art, so be it. Enjoy the ride. The ocean is always beautiful whether the tide is in or out.
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You’re a wise man, Will. I think I’m finally learning to stop fighting it. I’ve always had this feeling that if I always just shrug my shoulders and go do something else, that skill will atrophy. But if it isn’t working anyway, better to accomplish something else rather than waste a day trying to ride a horse that won’t run… The ocean is beautiful, isn’t it?
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I strongly agree with you, Jack. This subject is near to my heart. Ask a hundred writers this question– What is your writing process? You will probably receive a hundred different answers. Human beings are uncomfortable with chaos. They are, however, comfortable with models. People believe that if they follow the correct writing model, the process will become easy for them. The problem is that writing isn’t a process. It is an art form. Good art doesn’t come from models, steps, and timelines. Good art comes from within, and great art comes from the soul!
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Thank you for reminding me, Doc. You are so right! I can only trust that when it’s ready, it will come. I’m keeping my notebook at hand, and if it does come, I’ll have a ton of material for it to chew on!
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