One of my New Year resolutions was to try and enjoy my writing more.
It feels a bit of a ridiculous thing to say, given that I write precisely because I enjoy it. Nobody makes me do it. I’m not dependent on writing for my income (thank God!). If I didn’t enjoy it then I could just stop.
But writing is funny like that. I suspect a lot of other creative pursuits are the same. There’s this weird balance between the tough self-disciplined, arse-to-chair, make-yourself-get-it-finished, follow-the-rules-and-do-it-properly side of the creative mindset – that’s the one that well-established writers seem to talk about when they’re asked for tips: sternly commanding you that if you’re going to be a writer you need to stop moaning about writer’s block and just write dammit. Then there’s the childlike dicking-around, making stuff up, playful and fun bit that I think most people who don’t write associate with “creative types”.
I find too much of one always kills off the other. When I was in my teens and early twenties I had no problem at all coming up with ideas, churning out thousands and thousands of words, a poem every week. I’d write in place of anything else I should have been doing – write instead of study, write instead of work, write instead of clean, write instead of sleep. Productivity was not a problem. But most of my work sucked. The stories went nowhere, the poems were amateur, and I never finished anything, let alone edited it. Not that it mattered, at that point I hadn’t really thought much about “being a writer”. I just did it for myself, for fun.
Then I did a Masters in Creative Writing and started to take it all more seriously. I started to think about the craft, what makes a good story, and what makes a bad one? I needed to finish pieces and meet deadlines, I had to receive feedback, I had to give feedback. I learned how to completely redraft pieces after getting feedback and was astonished at the difference it made to my work. That feeling when a story takes on a life of its own in the edit and becomes something you never imagined is pretty special.
But suddenly writing became hard. It wasn’t a way to avoid work. It was work. It was something I wanted to be good at, and every time I sat down to write I had to face up to the idea that actually I might not be very good at it and I needed to try and be better. I was much more invested in it, and now writing became something I put on my to-do list. I had projects to complete. Stories to edit. Feedback to seek and act on. I really wanted my work to be published and if that was going to happen it needed to be objectively good. I couldn’t just dick around with cool sounding lyrics to imaginary songs and create fun characters who didn’t really do anything.
I still enjoy having written. I still love that aha-moment during a redraft when I suddenly realise what a story has been about all along and what I need to do to make it work. Sometimes, once I get really into a character I enjoy speaking through them onto the page and exploring their world. But I realised around Christmas time that I couldn’t remember the last time I was really excited about a scheduled writing session. Most of the time I have to gamify the whole thing to get it done – I set timers (I’m a fan of the Pomodoro method), I have wordcount goals, reward systems – you name it. It occurred to me that it’s a bit silly to have to trick myself into doing something that I’m supposed to be doing for the fun of it.
I decided this year, I’m going to make more room for fun in my writing. Sure, I still have some pieces I want to complete and sometimes getting something finished requires discipline and Pomodoro timers, but I’m also going to make space to write some stupid fun stuff – things that may never see the light of day, things that make no sense and don’t go anywhere, things that are unpublishable – because I miss the joy of writing for myself and only myself. Maybe some of those things will get edited up and turn into proper grown-up pieces, or maybe not, but it’ll be good to just see what’s lying around in my brain.
Lately I’ve been reading
Necropolis: London and its Dead by Catharine Arnold. I picked this book up in the gift shop of the Old Operating Theatre museum in London (it’s near Borough Market and you should definitely visit). It’s a really readable and fascinating exploration of how London is essentially one massive burial ground and talks about the plagues, the executions, the heraldic funerals and complex mourning rituals throughout the history of the city.
Everything Under by Daisy Johnson. I wasn’t quite sure what to make of this. I read an interview with Daisy Johnson a while ago and her writing sounded so interesting that I immediately bought this and Fen her short story collection. I liked the modern-myth that underpinned the story, and the characters were really engaging, but it felt a little disjointed for my tastes and the timeline jumping around (which I don’t normally mind) was just confusing. I did love her prose though, the way she talks about water and landscapes is mystical and gorgeous. I still look forward to reading Fen.
Working On
In the spirit of injecting more fun I’m doing a lot of free writing, a lot of journalling, a bit of poetry (which will never see the light of day), but also:
Slowly but surely editing my science fiction novel – I’m feeling good about the development of my main character at the moment, I’ve been trying to add more dialogue so that we get to see her bouncing off other people a bit more. I know the ending needs a really major rewrite though, and at some point soon I need to face up to it!
Making a start on my interlinked ghost stories. I feel like a lot of them are historical fiction as much as stories of the supernatural, which I find scary and exciting in equal measure. I love reading historical fiction, but the idea of writing it I find vaguely terrifying. I’m dipping my toe in the grim waters of research by finding out more about the early years of the Cardiff Docks and trying to get over the feeling that everything needs to be perfectly accurate (which I’m told I need to quit worrying about!).
Editing a few standalone short stories I hope to start sending out next month.
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