How To Write More
after Austin Kleon’s How To Read More
It helps sometimes to have writing tools that are fun to use such as a 1938 Smith Corona Sterling, but it's not absolutely necessary.
A first draft I wrote for my Onondaga Community College class under my favorite alias.
Just Write Crap
This piece follows yesterday's post, The First Writing: Ten Minutes
After ten minutes of just writing without stopping, what have you got? It’s okay to say it’s a load of crap. Mine often is. Or at least it seems that way in the moment. Then I quit worrying so much and get over myself. That may not be as easy to do when just starting out.
The big questions new writers ask are what should I write and what if it’s not good? These are natural things to wonder. How can a person write if they don’t know what they are writing about and why write at all if it isn’t going to be any good?
Here’s the thing: neither question matters much, especially at the beginning. Write whatever comes to mind so long as you write and don’t stop. As for quality, at this stage and even later on, it’s best to intend to write crap.
“Just write crap” sounds like terrible advice, but bear with me. How things sound and what they really are often turns out to be two different things. As I said, I often think that I’ve written crap but learn that it’s better than I thought. And even if after reflection I find that I’ve written total crap, at least I’ve practiced writing.
Also, if I find that I’ve got something good on the page, I still have to go back and make it better, removing the crap, creating more good stuff. I’m a very good first draft writer (in part because I'm content to write crap), but nothing is done after one pass, so I might as well give myself permission to write crap. I can fix it all later or set it aside and write something new.
The big challenge of writing is to write, to sit in the chair and put pen to paper or fingers to keyboard. We find other stuff to do, like thinking. That sounds productive. How can I write without thinking? But the truth is that thinking is just a way to avoid writing. Staring into space looks like thinking, but it sure isn’t writing. If I tell myself I’ll start writing just as soon as I think of a good idea, three days goes by without any words. I have to put the first word on the page.
That can be tough. Sometimes it feels like pure hell. What if it's the wrong word? What if it’s crap? Trying not to crap binds us up. Sorry, but it’s true. Loosen up. Give yourself permission to write the crappiest crap of all time. That’s what I do. That’s how I wrote this.
Once I have permission, I stop worrying and start writing. I do the work. If you want permission, I’m giving it to you now. Go forth and write crappity-crap-crap. Stink the page up. Waste page after page on it. And keep going. It won’t really be any waste. It's a way to open the door and get writing on the page. Writing nothing is always worse than writing crap.
Think of it this way: there’s a really attractive person in class, sitting by the window, and you can’t stop looking at how the light catches their hair. Class ends. You’re the last two in the room. That beautiful person says hi and smiles at you. You don’t know what to say and worry you’re going to mess it up. Saying nothing is saying no to opportunity. Saying something, anything, even if it's crap, opens up possibilities. Don't say nothing. You’ll never fall in love that way.
The first draft of this (in the image above) took ten minutes to write. Some of it was crap. I've gone back and remodeled significantly. It still might be crappy, but it’s far better than nothing. When I began, I didn’t know what to say beyond “just write crap.” It turns out that I had a lot more to say. I’ll bet at least one person reading this feels better about their crappy writing. Maybe it’s you. At least one person thinks I’m a genius. Whoever you are, write back and be my friend.
Maybe I am a genius, but I stole most of these ideas. Natalie Goldberg says to give yourself permission to write the worst junk in America. Anne Lamott suggests shitty first drafts. Their advice has gotten me over the first terrible words and into several million others. I just needed permission to write crap.
I gave myself that permission and look where it has gotten me. Now I’m giving it to you. Set a timer for ten minutes. Set your intention to just write crap. Go.
I use Timely on my Android phone to set timers for writing. Use whatever.
The First Writing: 10 Minutes
The first writing is in some ways the easiest, though it may feel impossible at the start. There's all that tension and expectation that "I have to create something good." Well, no, creating good stuff is not the point. It’s not even close to the point. This is one of those cases when done beats good. The first key to writing is to write and on this first writing, the only job is to write and not stop for a while.
But what to write?
That couldn’t matter less. Write about the day so far. Start with the words "I remember" and see what happens. Write a dream from last night. Write your wish of what life should be by next year. Write the instructions for making really good coffee. Whatever first flits into your mind, that's what to write. No one but you is ever going to see this, so just write.
How long should it be?
That's easy. It should be ten minutes long.
The timed writing is the most useful writing practice I know. If you don’t want to take my word for it. Peter Elbow is the first person I learned it from in his book Writing Without Teachers. Natalie Goldberg pounded it farther into my head and my habits in Writing Down The Bones and Wild Mind. I’ve taught this to students now for twenty years. Timed writing just works. Do it.
Find an egg timer, break out the running watch, open the clock app, set the timer on the stove, or open Google and type "set a timer for ten minutes." In a few moments you'll start that timer. When you do, you'll begin writing and you won't stop for anything other than the house catching fire. Even then, if you can let it burn for just a couple more minutes, that would be great.
The paper and pen or pencil that you have gathered, put them on a table or desk and pull up a chair. Sharpen the pencil if it's dull. I put the date at the top of every page I write. Hold the pen or pencil gently. Try not to white-knuckle it. That tires the whole body and you've got ten minutes of writing to do. Stay loose enough to get through it.
Once the timer is running there will be no stopping. Don't worry about spelling or punctuation, paragraphs or sentence structure. Put away the fear that you have no right to put words on paper. Don’t edit. Once the timer is running, start writing and don't stop. Leave mistakes on the page. Those are good things. They don’t seem like it, but they are.
Oh, and try not to think.
In Bull Durham, catcher Crash Davis tells his pitcher Ebby Calvin LaLoosh, "...lesson number one: don't think; it can only hurt the ball club." Just throw the damn ball. It’s the same with writing. It’s no good to try thinking what should come next. Just throw and keep throwing.
If you feel stuck, write, "I feel stuck right now and at a loss for what to say." That way you’re still writing. Write about how frustrated you feel. Write about what a jerk I am for giving this stupid advice to keep going. Keep writing. Something will come even if it's just writing about feeling stuck and frustrated.
Ready? Pull the paper toward you. Pick up the pen or pencil. Loosen your shoulders, arm, and hand. Hit the timer.
Start writing and don't stop for ten minutes. Everything flows from here.
This is the second post in this series. The first was Writing, Yes. Fame & Fortune, Maybe Not.
A cheap notebook, cheap pen, and something to keep track of the time.
Writing, Yes. Fame & Fortune, Maybe Not
Let me tell you two things this isn't going to be about: getting published or getting rich.
I know almost nothing about how to do either. If you're reading this on paper, it's more likely you printed it from the web than that I have found a publisher. I write mostly for the enjoyment of putting my thoughts on paper. That's good because the sum total of my writing riches amounts to less than $500 over thirty years. I'm not here to guide anyone to the promised lands of fame and fortune. I don't ever expect to find my own way to those strange lands, but If I do, I’ll come back and tell you how. My guess is that it boils down to this: do the work.
But if I don’t know about publishing or becoming rich, what am I doing here? Is this just a waste of time?
I hope not.
It turns out there’s a third promised land named joy or contentment or maybe even enlightenment. I'm going to explain some methods to write your way into that place. The plan is simple, so if you're disinclined to read much more, I'll boil it down to five words: start writing and don't stop. In other words, do the work.
Sure, there are other things to think about. I've written about many of those and will share them, but it's really down to doing a lot of writing in a regular way and mostly for yourself.
I used to end every blog post with two words: write on. That's what you need to do. If you're good at writing, write on. If you're terrible at it, write on. If you are scared to reveal yourself, think you’re too boring, worry that you're not allowed to write, or think someone will be offended, write on. If you have any problem with writing or think you have no problems at all, write on and things will improve.
A character in the movie Finding Forrester puts it this way: "The first key to writing is to write." (It’s a great movie, by the way, so track it down and enjoy.)
Learning to write won't happen in a day. Improvement won't come quickly. Or rather, you won't feel improved though writing even just once changes us. The process reminds me of NASA's Voyager probe swinging around Jupiter to pick up speed. Jupiter's tremendous mass spun the craft around and hurtled it faster into space. That’s impressive, but what floors me is how tiny Voyager slowed impossibly-large Jupiter. The largest planet in our solar system spins slower now that Jupiter affected it. The difference isn’t so much anyone could notice, but it’s there. Writing is like that. Every time we do it, Jupiter slows down just the tiniest fraction. Do it often enough and the difference becomes noticeable. Write enough pages and you fly out of the solar system.
Improvement doesn't come in a day or a week, but after a month of writing there's a difference the same way there would be if we did a hundred push-ups every day for a month. It feels different and we find that we can do things that seemed impossible or at least beyond our abilities.
If you wonder how many pages the change will require, who the hell knows? Stop thinking that way. Cut it out. Just write. This isn't something that quantifies well. Joy, contentment, and enlightenment are qualities that don’t chart on spreadsheets. Writing toward them is about qualitative change over time. Quantity will play a part in that progress. The more we write, the better we become at writing. For now, let’s just start writing.
Some practical advice: Get pen or pencil and begin writing by hand. There are really fine writing tools out there, but most anything will do. There’s no need to worry about penmanship. Don’t buy anything special. That can wait. Use what you have. Write on whatever will work for ten minutes at a time. Find an old notebook with blank pages. Write on the backs of used copy paper. If you have a pretty new notebook just for writing, spill coffee or tea on it so you won’t feel bound to write pretty things. And if writing by hand is a problem, use a laptop. There are good reasons to write by hand, especially at this stage, but do whatever works, whatever gets you started.
Begin by writing only for you. No one else should see it. Save what you write, but don't share it. The fossil record may intrigue you down the line and the habit of saving writing can be useful, but showing your writing to others can and should wait. Write for you. Don’t even consider anyone else.
Ready? Got paper and pen or pencil? Good.
Go somewhere you won’t be disturbed, put on headphones, or send the family out for ice cream. Shut the phone off. Put it in the microwave. Have your family take it with them. Now set a timer for ten minutes, start writing, and, no matter what happens, don’t stop until it goes off.
Start writing and don't stop. Do the work. Write on.