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Since the maelstrom of Long COVID and moving across the country, I’ve had trouble writing.
For a long time, I couldn’t even read, until I discovered the magic of audiobooks (which is reading, by the way). The most recent one of those I’ve loved was In a Dark Mirror by Kat Davis. I’m currently flying through Horror Movie by Paul Tremblay on my good old-fashioned e-reader. So, a non-reading streak has been broken.
But writing was another story. A story I wasn’t getting down on the screen, or anywhere at all.
Every writer dreads writing, dreads it more than other people, but it felt like I was torturing myself every time I sat down in my uncomfortable, hard dining room chair.
Maybe it was the chair? I bought a new one, spending more money than I felt great about on one that is both ergonomic and cute, yellow velvet.
It was not the chair.
I’ve been reading a lot about tricking your brain. That, if you force a small smile, your brain doesn’t know it’s fake and thinks you’re happy (makes you happy?). Or, if you tell yourself in the morning something incredible is going to happen today, it will. Or, you’ll think it did.
I tried leaving the house, leaving my office and nice office chair. I tried to trick my brain that we were really doing something.
I went to the brewery across the street without my laptop. All I carried was a notebook and pen. I told myself—tricked myself—I had nothing else to do. The brewery didn’t have WiFi, so maybe I didn’t.
I wrote in my notebook.
There’s something about the social pressure of being in public with a notebook and pen. People are looking, expectant; you have to be busy. Writing by hand was somehow less awful than typing on a screen, possibly because I type on a screen all day long for my day job. And I wrote more than I expected. Maybe having a small notebook, with easily-filled pages, is another trick.
After years without practice, my handwriting is not the best. But the next morning before work, I transcribed what I had written, adding a little more or a little less, revising a bit. Using advice from writer friend Wendy Heard, I typed in bold a couple of lines about the scenes I wanted to write the next time, reminding myself, so I had a place to begin. It’s not every day, but about three times a week I’ve gone out with my notebook.
And a new system was born.
A Spell
Go to a public place: a park, restaurant, coffeehouse, bar. Don’t bring your computer or anything to read. Just bring a notebook and pen. Write as much as can for the length of a beverage (or two). In the morning, type up what you have. Repeat until you get through.
This reminds me a bit of Justin Taylor in his recent letter for Jami Attenberg's #1000wordsofsummer: "The reason I write longhand is because I type faster than I think, so when I get to the end of the line I am typing I have to pause to think of the next line. This costs me momentum and it leaves dead time when I might get self-conscious or distracted."