Why Do I Write?
I've been asked already several times, like, why do I write? Why have I chosen it as a profession? Well, It's no secret that writing is a sure way to noble poverty, and life generally begins to suck, especially its financial aspect. Well, there is an element of truth to it, but there are several important factors, I'd like to underline, that make this choice really important.
First, if somebody would ask me, if I hope like, to write some big novel and shit, get published, become a bestselling author, famous and rich. Well, I don't know. Maybe I'll publish a book; maybe I will not. Most likely I will not get famous and rich; it would feel utterly weird if I will.
Ok, let's see what we get here.
There are things that float on the surface, and there are things that linger deeper, closer to the bottom, the things that formed as a sublimation of some primary need. By what we choose to do we realize in some perverse way our various primary needs, the most relevant at a particular time.
Ok, first what's on the surface
Throughout your life, you observe and experience many different things. Those things sometimes are difficult to understand, to make sense of. You end up with a pile of accumulating questions, and at some point, you realize that you might die without finding answers to any of them. And after a couple of hours of introspection, you realize that you are not even equipped for this task. Like you cannot find answers because you don't know shit. Plus, you are not able to understand things, to connect things, your brain simply doesn't work this way. So it leads to some deeper level.
A bit deeper level
Ok, at this point you realize an enormity of subjects you have no idea about. Like history, economy, psychology, philosophy, cosmology, politics, etc., etc. how the world works, basically. All the cool stuff. And you are trying to come to terms with the reality that you'll die unaware of all those amazingly interesting things. And your curiosity drives this existential dilemma further. We devote most of our time and thoughts to our work. And let's not kid ourselves about our leisure time, doing it as a hobby and stuff. In the modern world there is so little leisure time that, if you really want to be serious about something, you need to make it your profession. No other way. Is there any profession better suited for the purpose of learning new things? This is an answer, but this is still not the most important thing. For example, what if I'll be writing fake reviews for car rental services, restaurants, and other marketing bullshit. Still, it makes a lot of sense.
The deep level, or the sublimation of primary need
We think in words. Some people think in images or sounds or smells, but it's not really thinking. It's intuition mixed with emotions and with whatever comes from our reptilian brain. Without thinking we cannot make conclusions, we cannot control our emotions, or distinguish rational things from the murky waves of fears, desires, and anxieties coming from our reptilian brain. If we cannot control this swamp, we are destined to drown in it. Maybe, it wouldn't happen right away, but it's a sort of inevitable outcome. Because there is our consciousness in the form of our rational mind, and there is our subconscious in the form of things we don't fully understand. Writing is the ultimate form of thinking in words, the ultimate form of separating conscious mind and making it dominant. When it's dominant, the reptilian brain is subdued. In other words, writing is control. I don't want to deal with demons and ghosts or whatever weird shit is going to emerge from my subconscious mind. Or rather let it be, but I still want my rational mind to be in charge.
Writing is the most intellectually challenging activity I've ever done. I feel how my brain is boiling, but that's cool. That is how it should be. Because this is an indicator that this process fully utilizes the frontal lobes of my brain, and this is how I like it. Writing is a habit of thinking in words, a habit of prioritizing the rational thinking over subconscious and shit. And this is cool because it gives me control.
Well, the other things. I used to write programs for the machines, but the language of the machines is way too simple, it's easier to communicate with machines, it's incredibly easy to deal with the ideas that can be expressed by a diagram, containing some rectangles connected with arrows and lines and shit. This simplicity makes you complacent, and relaxed, and then you die. Because when you are too relaxed, your fate would obviously think that it wouldn't make any difference. I used to build sites, but I realized that personally, I don't really care how those sites look, and what cool gizmos they have and other shit. I care about texts. And somebody has to write those texts, and that's important. It would be even cooler if among the seo bullshit and canned phrases there would be some ideas, and some meaning, something to think about.
Plus, maybe I'll publish that book and get rich and shit, though, improbable, but it would be very ironic )
The Writing Block
Several times I experienced this strange feeling conventionally called the "writing block." It's like you have enough energy, and it's not like your brain doesn't work at all, and theoretically, there is really nothing preventing you from writing, but when you try to start doing it, you are immediately thwarted by some invisible wall. And you like, push and push and push, but this wall, elastic as it is, muffles your efforts and pushes you back. And you realize that you are sitting before an empty sheet of paper (or like, a computer screen or whatever), and the time just passes, and nothing happens. And the flow of thoughts gets bottled up somewhere, then it gets bottled up somewhere else, and so on until it begins to look and feel like a massive cardiac arrest.
I've done a bit of introspection on what I think and feel when this strange and impregnable wall appears between me and the medium on which I want to spill some words, sentences, and ideas. For example, as I observed earlier "writing block" doesn't usually affect my ability to write comments. (Once I wrote a whole flash fiction story in response to a comment.) And although comments are not something of high literary value, it's sort of writing too, in some way. I mean, if I cannot put together a single sentence in what I plan to be a "story," if it were due to some mental problem or brain damage, I wouldn't be able to write comments as well. Also, I effectively wouldn't be able to think in words. (Sometimes it happens too, but it's mostly related to cases of total mental exhaustion or profound inebriation, and it's a totally different situation.)
Also, I noticed that such mental blocks started to occur more often after I started to write a bit better, particularly after I managed to produce some pieces that, I felt, were more or less well done, and some people even agreed with that.
Then I reflected on what particularly I thought immediately before I tried to write something and instead bumped into this wall of soft resistance - the "writing block." What I realized was that what I thought immediately before was that I erected a certain "quality bar." Like, without realizing it consciously, I decided that everything I was going to write shouldn't be worse than anything I wrote before. If at some point I've managed to write some particularly good piece of writing, I subconsciously expect that this time it shouldn't be worse. And this "quality bar" makes everything very difficult, even before I start.
I remember, when I made my first attempts to write, I didn't expect much as a result. Like I felt lucky if I was able to compose a bunch of sentences containing some dubious fragment of a weird plot. The sentences themselves were pretty clumsy, and, in general, all this was pretty horrible. I realized that it was horrible, but I felt satisfied that I managed to accomplish at least that; to compose those sentences without forgetting some crucial words. So the bar was pretty low, it literally laid on the ground. As an upside, it was psychologically easy to start over and over when all, which was required at that stage, was just to write anything coherent.
At some point, I started to write a bit better, and at the same time, my expectations of what I should've accomplished each time started to grow. So now each time when I sit with an intention to write down something I always keep in mind a couple of most successful pieces, and subconsciously expect that this time it shouldn't be worse (stylistically, grammatically, in terms of quality of storytelling and so on.) But the problem is, I cannot always perform on the same level. Like what I was able to do at some moments of inspiration is not what I can do always. So I begin to write and immediately realize that I cannot meet self-imposed requirements. And I'm kinda stuck. Like everything inside me protests against continuing to write something that my internal critic assess as incredibly shitty. And at the same time, I cannot do any better at the moment.
Time and again I invent some tricks and exercises designed to get through this mental block. My last idea is speed writing. I write down a list of random words, then very quickly start writing sentences, each of which includes one of those words, at the same time trying to compose a coherent story. If it doesn't turn out as a coherent story, fuck it, I keep writing, trying just not to slow down. The main and only imperative is to write fast, as fast as possible, this way there is no time for doubts and ruminations about the shittiness of what I've just written. Until it turns into automatic reflex and routine. The point is, sometimes it's important just to keep writing, to combine words into sentences, no matter whether it feels good or bad, just keeping the flow of thoughts going, and trying to reach the point when turning them into written text becomes automatic, like riding a bicycle. (This is probably the whole point of writing anything apart from masterpieces and bestsellers)
This piece is also quickly and poorly written to emphasize the point
Don't Throw Away Shitty Writing
Many of you (I mean amateur writers, not those who are successful and published and stuff, that's a different story) might have in your desk drawer, figuratively speaking (or rather somewhere in the cloud, cryptically speaking) some writings and diaries you've done when you were less experienced and more immature. And you might look at them now and then and think how badly, in fact, they suck. You might be tempted to throw them away. Don't do that.
Among many psychological issues a newbie writer might have, is an indecisiveness when it comes to cutting and editing his or her work. Like, if you've just finished something, say, a short story, at first glance it may seem to you pretty cool. It's almost impossible to start editing it right away because it's kinda shining before your eyes like your first love, and you don't see all the blemishes and cellulitis yet. Later you can assess this writing with a more critical eye, and you are more ready to brutalize it.
Still, if you are not used to doing that regularly, it might feel like a strong psychological pressure. You are afraid that you might cut something brilliant, or that changing the phrasing in some particular place would make the piece slightly worse. And you kinda sit, and those misgivings torture you. And it makes the process of massacring your writing slow and inefficient.
This is when it's useful to have at hand some obviously crappy writings from the past. Let's say; you can decide to edit those pieces, compile some blog and post it somewhere on the Internet, where it won't be seen by people you know so that you won't be utterly embarrassed. So, then you can get through all those crappy passages and phrases, trying to rewrite them in a way that would make them sound at least approximately close to decent. You, nevertheless, see those early passages and ruminations and stuff as something hopeless, no matter how much effort you are going to put in rewriting them. So you are not inundated with thoughts that you might somehow make those writing worse, like, apparently, it cannot be worse.
So, take the bundle of your crappy writings and spend some time editing and improving them. The point is, after doing such exercises for a month or so, you will turn into one utterly ruthless, sadistic, cold-blooded writing murderer. There will be nothing that would seem to you too precious to cut, twist, torture, and eventually kill. You would be able to tear off and burn the pages of your favorite books if you feel that they are imperfect. You will look at people, and things, and small animals with the same bloodshot eye of a psychopathic perfectionist trying to assess, whether the thing before you is sufficiently perfect or not.
So, Yes, don't throw away crappy writings, use them to develop the confidence you'll need for editing your work. Hope, it was helpful. :-)
Another Take on Writing Block
I already wrote in my previous posts that I'm not immune to the Writing Block, and I invent and collect various ideas and methods of how to overcome it. Previously I wrote about a trick of "fast writing" when you first compose a column of random words and then very quickly write sentences, each of which has to include one of those words, at the same time trying to create a coherent narrative. This way you have two supporting factors: First, you don't have a scary empty white sheet of paper before you, and the second, you don't have time to ruminate and despair about something bottling up your thoughts and keeping them from spilling out. You simply don't have time, because when you write fast, your total focus is on the process, and you don't have an opportunity to think about anything else.
There is another method I use when I write articles. It's much easier to write articles than prose, but still, sometimes you stumble over the first sentence, and you don't know how to continue. The problem is, while articles are relatively easy to write, and the whole process boils down to you studying some facts and then writing down those facts plus a couple of your personal insights, using your own manner and style. Usually, the problem is with the first paragraph, which is supposed to contain a punchline, determining how the whole article is going to sound. Those were the moments, when I sat, wrecking my brains and tearing out the hair from my head.
Then I came up with a routine based on an idea, that when you write down your thoughts while you think about something, the whole thought process is getting more organized. Like, if you think about this misbegotten first paragraph, just write down what exactly you think about it, and why, do you think, it's hard to devise a punchline for this particular topic. So, I sit and ruminate about that area I write about, and I write various phrases that might sound good, and then I just fool around. I write everything down. Sometimes I return back to what's already written, so my thoughts wouldn't scatter. Eventually, the punchline comes together in my head.
Another technique is the one I'd learned at Harold Improv Course, and I decided that it can, just as well, work for writing, when you just need to overcome stupor and start writing. This technique doesn't guarantee that you'll write something good while you practice it, quite to the contrary. Its purpose is only to ease this transition from you, sitting before an empty sheet of paper, toward you, writing down stuff.
The technique targets the fear that writers have when they are getting more experienced. Namely, the fear that if they start writing now, they'll write down some shitty writing compared to their normal level. The total beginners don't need to fear that because everything they write is shitty. They can start writing at any moment, it predictably comes out shitty, and that stability produces a cool feeling of creative freedom.
A bit more experienced amateur writers, thinking that they are not in the best creative shape at the moment and knowing that they can do better, would rather postpone writing anything until they'd feel inspiration and stuff. And it leads to the writing block because you never feel quite sure that your level of creative inspiration is sufficient, and you are up to the task.
So the method is called "Write Shitty Stuff." Yes, the idea is to deliberately write shitty stuff, ignoring all the rules and principles of good writing. The main idea is to eliminate this fear of writing shitty stuff. You can do that, and nobody is going to kill you for that, unless you show it to somebody, or somebody accidentally sees it.
The "Write Shitty Stuff" therapy session can last several hours, during which you write shitty stuff. In the end, you destroy everything you've written. The idea is to break this barrier of treating writing as some sacred ritual when the fear of imperfection paralyzes you.
You should realize that writing is just a basic routine of punching the keyboard with your fingers, nothing more. As a result, you can get a lot of sludge with a couple of interesting ideas, phrases, or metaphors. Or you can get just a lot of sludge, but you'll have your thoughts organized at least.
There are several other life hacks I learned, regarding the creation of perfect conditions for the writing process. One of them is food. It's incredible, how food increases creativity and boosts energy levels and intellectual capacity. The advice is pretty simple: If you plan to write something eat some food during that day, and this will basically produce miraculous results. I've learned this today when I went to KFC, ordered a lot of stuff, plus coffee and cheese sauce and then something else. Then several hours later I felt how the fatigue, which kept enveloping my brain during all the previous week disappeared, and I was so energized and stuff. It was pretty cool; I had like, a wave of creative inspiration washing over me. So the advice is: eat some food. It's essential for creativity. If you don't have money then, I don't know, borrow or mug somebody, but make getting carbs your priority.
Another creative and spiritually uplifting trick is Zulu Masturbation. To perform it, you'll need a watermelon, big towel, three candles, and an ax. Ok, I'll write about that later, in my feed, stay tuned.
Capturing Ideas
There is another thing about writing one has to deal with if he/she's kinda serious about the stuff. Like, ideas can come at any moment, and more often than not they emerge when we are not ready to write them down. For example, when one just woke up and is trying to clear up all that haze and hangover in the head.
So we kinda postpone writing down those ideas until that ubiquitous moment in the future when it will be convenient. But the truth is, when that convenient moment arrives, the ideas are not there anymore. The ideas are like elusive fish in a Japanese pond; if you are not fast enough to catch them, they are gone.
So, the right thing to do is to acquire a habit to write down ideas and sensations whenever they come, right at the moment when they come. You might just be woken up, or you are eating or having sex. You always need to be prepared to write down anything profound that might come into your mind at any moment. Just keep the notepad and the pen close at hand. (or your phone for that matter) One might argue that it's impossible to write while having sex. That's not true. Think about positions. Choose for example the doggy-style position, and you immediately realize that you can write at the same time. I think probably this position was invented by writers in the first place.
So, all in all, keep this in mind and make it your habit to make notes whenever it strikes you. Keep your tools handy.
A Writing Metaphor
Sometimes it's hard. Like, you see a glimpse of an idea. Like, you are a predator in the forest, whose survival depends on a successful hunt, and you see your prey, a deer among the trees. Quick, elusive, ready to take off and disappear forever. And it's like, you are not even in the best mood and shape to chase it. Like, you might be tired, planning to do something different, something less exhaustive than this rapid chase, exerting whatever muscle power you have. You just know that if you don't catch it now, it'll gradually stroll deeper into the woods, and then you can look for it for ages and never find it again. It's a one-time opportunity. You just know this. This intuitive knowledge comes from your instincts, developed after many repetitions. So, it's like you don't have a choice really. You see a deer, you prepare, assess whatever energy you have for a swift and violent dash. You lunge from your hiding place and fall into pursuit. The deer is this elusive idea, and it immediately takes off and scuttles away, determined to escape. Veering, zigzagging, swerving left and right, evading your claws. Eventually, you overtake it, jump on its back and fell it, dip your claws and teeth in its flesh, tear it apart, and gobble its heart, still fresh and beating. All you need is the deer's heart, the essence of the idea.
Then you can crash down and relax a bit, feeling satisfaction. And hunger. (because chasing an idea is so exhausting and energy consuming, and eating a deer's heart is a metaphor that has nothing to do with food actually) In the end, you get positive feedback, a sense of enjoyment, accomplishment, success. A feeling of victory. This positive feedback further enforces this reflex, and the next time you see a deer, your muscles are getting tense automatically, and you brace for the next rabid spurt. You cannot help it; it has become an instinct enforced by a string of successful chases.
And sometimes it's hard. Not only because you are tired and don't feel like performing this insane sprint this time.
Like, sometimes I'm sick of my writing, not as if I think it sucks or something. Some of it sucks, some of it sucks less. But it doesn't matter. What matters is that all this is contents of my head and my psyche. Since I have a narcissistic personality, it doesn't happen too often, but it happens even to me now and then. Like, I'm getting sick and tired of contemplating my innards, thoughts that are essentially and substantially mine, produced by a combination of intrinsically mine inner workings and personal experience. I just don't want to look at it or dig into it anymore, kinda makes me sick. Like there's too much of me surrounding me, every time I edit my texts, and I kinda want me to leave me alone. I want to read books, articles, anything, written by other people with different brains. I need to escape from this hall of mirrors filled with my reflections. This is when I really don't want to write anything because I don't want to be once again exposed to myself, my words, thoughts, ways of expression. I want to get out of there and be free for a while.
But then I see a deer among the trees and realize that I don't really have much of a choice. This time doesn't belong to me, and I'm not free to choose what to do at this moment. Because there is an imperative, and there is a necessity. There is a deer, and if I don't catch it now, I'll never see it again. And each deer is unique. I might encounter many other deer in the woods later; I will have many successful hunts. But I might never meet this exact deer again. Because each idea is unique, I guess, and there's no telling when and whether it will occur to me again. So I grit my teeth, and, overcoming mental fatigue and disgust, I once again enter this hall of mirrors filled with my reflections, and I pick my tools, bow, and arrows, and stone ax, and a hammer, and nails to crucify the poor animal. And then I produce a truculent howl and start after the deer, who immediately begins to veer, dodge, and zigzag among the trees, with an intention to throw me off its tail. And I race, and it sweeps away through the tall grass. And branches, leaves, sunspots coalesce in a wild and furious rush. And my eyes bulge from the effort; my breathing escapes with whizzes, oxygen burns my lungs; it's not peaceful jogging in a convenient and habitual tempo, it's a short but savage spurt on the edge of possibility, an attempt to achieve the maximum possible speed. It's not pleasant, nor something you can get used to. It's a furious lunge from under an oncoming train; it's outside the comfort zone, it's something you just obligated to do at this moment. Well, at least, if you don't want let the deer disappear. Because you'll be regretting it, like something that might've been important.