Writing Rhythms by Kerry Schafer
by Kerry Schafer
My favorite tree in my part of the world is the Tamarack. To the casual eye it looks much like the surrounding evergreens - cedar, fir, pine - but it is a tree with a difference. In the spring it glows with an improbable jewel toned green usually reserved for Hollywood fairytales or maybe poisonous frogs. As if the incredible green were not enough, the needles are soft, delicate - close up they look like lace.
The fascinating thing about the Tamaracks is this: they aren't really evergreens. They are actually deciduous trees decked out with needles rather than leaves. In the fall, the needles change to yellow and orange, and then they fall. All winter long the Tamaracks stand stark and naked. People unfamiliar with their habits have actually cut them down during this time, thinking them dead. But wait for the spring, and there is that incredible burgeoning of green once again.
I think some writers are like evergreens, and some are like the Tamarack.
The heavy majority of writing advice plays on one never ending theme: if you are a writer, you must write every day. End of story. No excuses, no questions. If you're not writing, you're not a writer. For many writerly people, this advice is perfect. I know who you people are - you write every day, come rain or shine, in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer. And, despite my jealousy, this is as awesome as green trees in the middle of the winter snow.
But if you happen to be a writer who for whatever reason is currently not writing, this is harsh, guilt inducing advice. Your thoughts take on a hamster wheel rendition of the following thoughts:
I am not writing. I am not a writer. I never was a writer, never will be a writer.
Sound familiar? I found myself in this situation not long ago. (Not the first time, but the most recent time). For about the length of a week, based on this not helpful thought process, I went through my days ruminating on failure and toying with the idea of giving up writing forever and always.
I should note that I am not published. I have done no research on this topic. I can't claim to be the authoritative voice, but still I'd like to hazard a guess that some of us might be better off - more productive, more creative - if we observed occasional seasons of down time. It occurred to me, sometime during my week of despair, that I was going through a metaphorical winter. A lot of obstacles, a lot of crises, a long hard slog of energy expenditure without much coming back in. Maybe it wasn't so surprising that mustering the time and energy to write felt like pulling teeth.
And I began to remember that writing has always been a part of me, in one way or another. I thought about the poetry I wrote in 5th grade. The stories, the essays, the bits and pieces of this and that that followed through the years. The novels I've written. Query letters. Synopses. The fact that my entire online life revolves around writing. I follow writers on Twitter, I chat with writers on IM, I read writing blogs. And even when I think I'm not writing, I am. Blog posts. Journal entries.
So, I believe I am a writer after all. A writer who is experiencing a period of dormancy. I'd like to believe my creative drive will emerge again when life eases up a little. Already, as I've let up on the constant beating up of self, allowed the "shoulds" to go on vacation, things have begun to flow. I journal. I work on the novel when I can - a few words here or there, a few pages revised, a new idea jotted down. I try to trust that a good long spell of sustained productivity will follow.
I've seen a lot of non-writing writers on Twitter and blogs who are suffering.
So I'm suggesting that some of us need to pay more attention to our natural rhythms. I'm not suggesting that discipline is not important. I'm all for the Butt in Chair, Fingers on Keys approach. But if you've been putting your butt in that chair, day after day, and still your brain is empty and your fingers aren't moving and the negative thoughts are swarming like flies on a corpse, it might be time to consciously allow yourself a break.
Julia Cameron suggests "refilling the well" on a regular basis. I think she's right about this. Maybe a little intensive well refilling is in order. If you're not actively writing, there are plenty of writing related activities. Read more. Write journal pages. Take up another artistic pursuit - drawing, music, basket making, whatever. Go for walks. Write something different than you usually write. If you're a novelist, try poetry or a short story. Write sketches. Take some time for yourself if at all possible. And when the well is re-filled, the writing will come back to you.
I could be wrong about this. I hope not. Looking out my window at the Tamaracks, I choose to believe that it is okay for writers to also have a rhythm of dormancy followed by the spring bloom.
My favorite tree in my part of the world is the Tamarack. To the casual eye it looks much like the surrounding evergreens - cedar, fir, pine - but it is a tree with a difference. In the spring it glows with an improbable jewel toned green usually reserved for Hollywood fairytales or maybe poisonous frogs. As if the incredible green were not enough, the needles are soft, delicate - close up they look like lace.The fascinating thing about the Tamaracks is this: they aren't really evergreens. They are actually deciduous trees decked out with needles rather than leaves. In the fall, the needles change to yellow and orange, and then they fall. All winter long the Tamaracks stand stark and naked. People unfamiliar with their habits have actually cut them down during this time, thinking them dead. But wait for the spring, and there is that incredible burgeoning of green once again.
I think some writers are like evergreens, and some are like the Tamarack.
The heavy majority of writing advice plays on one never ending theme: if you are a writer, you must write every day. End of story. No excuses, no questions. If you're not writing, you're not a writer. For many writerly people, this advice is perfect. I know who you people are - you write every day, come rain or shine, in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer. And, despite my jealousy, this is as awesome as green trees in the middle of the winter snow.
But if you happen to be a writer who for whatever reason is currently not writing, this is harsh, guilt inducing advice. Your thoughts take on a hamster wheel rendition of the following thoughts:
I am not writing. I am not a writer. I never was a writer, never will be a writer.
I am not writing. I am not a writer. I never was a writer, never will be a writer. I might as well give up.
Sound familiar? I found myself in this situation not long ago. (Not the first time, but the most recent time). For about the length of a week, based on this not helpful thought process, I went through my days ruminating on failure and toying with the idea of giving up writing forever and always.
I should note that I am not published. I have done no research on this topic. I can't claim to be the authoritative voice, but still I'd like to hazard a guess that some of us might be better off - more productive, more creative - if we observed occasional seasons of down time. It occurred to me, sometime during my week of despair, that I was going through a metaphorical winter. A lot of obstacles, a lot of crises, a long hard slog of energy expenditure without much coming back in. Maybe it wasn't so surprising that mustering the time and energy to write felt like pulling teeth.
And I began to remember that writing has always been a part of me, in one way or another. I thought about the poetry I wrote in 5th grade. The stories, the essays, the bits and pieces of this and that that followed through the years. The novels I've written. Query letters. Synopses. The fact that my entire online life revolves around writing. I follow writers on Twitter, I chat with writers on IM, I read writing blogs. And even when I think I'm not writing, I am. Blog posts. Journal entries.
So, I believe I am a writer after all. A writer who is experiencing a period of dormancy. I'd like to believe my creative drive will emerge again when life eases up a little. Already, as I've let up on the constant beating up of self, allowed the "shoulds" to go on vacation, things have begun to flow. I journal. I work on the novel when I can - a few words here or there, a few pages revised, a new idea jotted down. I try to trust that a good long spell of sustained productivity will follow.
I've seen a lot of non-writing writers on Twitter and blogs who are suffering.
So I'm suggesting that some of us need to pay more attention to our natural rhythms. I'm not suggesting that discipline is not important. I'm all for the Butt in Chair, Fingers on Keys approach. But if you've been putting your butt in that chair, day after day, and still your brain is empty and your fingers aren't moving and the negative thoughts are swarming like flies on a corpse, it might be time to consciously allow yourself a break.
Julia Cameron suggests "refilling the well" on a regular basis. I think she's right about this. Maybe a little intensive well refilling is in order. If you're not actively writing, there are plenty of writing related activities. Read more. Write journal pages. Take up another artistic pursuit - drawing, music, basket making, whatever. Go for walks. Write something different than you usually write. If you're a novelist, try poetry or a short story. Write sketches. Take some time for yourself if at all possible. And when the well is re-filled, the writing will come back to you.
I could be wrong about this. I hope not. Looking out my window at the Tamaracks, I choose to believe that it is okay for writers to also have a rhythm of dormancy followed by the spring bloom.
