Why Do We Resist Doing the Things We Love?

Short answer: I'm not sure, but I do have ideas

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Early this morning, as is my habit, I rose, got my coffee and went to my desk. I’m 20,000 words into a novel I’m excited about and earlier this week I enjoyed a couple of sessions in which I got the rest of the plot figured out. I’m feeling like I can get a good first draft of this story done over the next two months. On Tuesday, I was raring to go, eager to get to writing Chapter Eleven.

And yet this morning I didn’t write one word. Not one single ever-loving word.

The excitement I felt earlier in the week about Chapter Eleven was no longer percolating. And I had decided that maybe I should go back to hand-writing this first draft (where I’d actually started—I love writing by hand). So I wandered around the internet looking at spiral notebooks and studying the precise measurements of A5 and B6 size notebooks. I know. Ridiculous. But I’m going on vacation next week and I wanted to find the perfect notebook to take along.

I could convince myself this was in service to my work. Because it was related to writing, right?

I know that right about now you are tsking, tsking about my errant ways. And I am, too. Because roving the interwebs looking for spiral notebooks, no matter their end purpose, is not productive. And it is not writing.

I’m just going to go out on a limb and say it. When it comes to writing, you’re really only being productive WHEN YOU ARE WRITING. Yes, I know there is content (like this) to write, social media to plan, platforms to tend. But never forget that all exists in service to your WIP. It is important, yes, vitally, so. But if you don’t work on your novel (or memoir, or whatever) you won’t have anything for that content or social media to support.

So as far as I’m concerned if you have a writing session planned you should write on your main project, your beloved WIP. This morning I failed at that big time. And all day I’ve been feeling it, too. I’m always out of sorts, vaguely disoriented and grumpy when I haven’t written when I’ve planned to.

And that all happened because of my resistance to writing this morning. Which, I am guessing, may be familiar to you as well. Not because I’m dissing your productivity habits, but because it happens to all of us at some point.

What Resistance Looks Like

Procrastination is another word for it. And it looks like not writing. It can be any of three stages:

1. Not actually getting to the page. Instead, you mop the kitchen floor. Or decide you absolutely must organize the linen closet. Or pull every single weed out of the front garden beds. As many a writer will tell you, never is her house so clean as when she is on deadline.

2. You’re at the desk, but not writing. Your tools of choice are at the ready, but you’re not writing. You’re reading blogs about writing or researching the correct plant to put in your shade garden. Or obsessively devouring news sites. Or writing emails. You know your poisons.

3. You’re at the page! The file is open or the pen is in hand. But you’re staring out the window, pondering the meaning of life, twirling your hair, wondering what to have for dinner, and should you go to that wedding in Alaska next month or not?

All of these indicate some level of resistance to the matter at hand—writing.

Why Oh Why?

I’ve asked this question before and I know I’ll ask it again. Why do we resist the things we love? In our case, it is writing, but I know other creatives struggle with it, too. Why do painters resist the canvas? Why do gardeners resist the dirt? Why is the struggle all too real? Some possibilities:

Falling in too deep

Sometimes I resist going to the page because I’m afraid I won’t come back. This was more prevalent when I had small children at home. I feared I’d get so absorbed in my work that I’d forget to pick them up from school. It never happened—I’m too much of a good girl for that—but I’ve since talked to others who have felt the same way. On the other hand, it’s also kind of the creative dream, isn’t it? To be so into our work that we become one with it? So it’s a push me, pull you kind of fear.

Falling out of love

And then there’s this: are we afraid maybe we don’t actually love writing and we’ll find this out about ourselves? I’ll just say it out front, this does not and will never apply to me because writing is basically an integral part of who I am. But I’ve had students and clients, though I will admit they’ve been rare, who have realized that the writing life was not for them. And there’s no shame in that. If this happens to be you, no worries. There are tons of other great ways to spend your time. But better to come to terms with it, admit it, and move on.

Failure

People will laugh and sneer at me if I don’t succeed, you might think. Well, here’s what I say to that: f$%^ ‘em. Believe me, in all the years I’ve been doing this I’ve had plenty of supposedly well-meaning people ask, “So when is your next book coming out?” and you can just tell by their tone of voice that they think the correct answer is “never.” But those are people who likely have never experienced the joy of being in a deep creative bond with your words, the pleasure of being at the page (when its good), or the joy of any kind of creative process. And maybe they aren’t readers, either. As far as I’m concerned, and you can quote me on this, you are a success as long as you are still writing. (One or two slacking sessions don’t count.)

Success

And then there’s success, which is even more terrifying for some people. You’ll be in the spotlight! You’ll have to go on TV! People will get jealous and write bad reviews. You’ll have to be like Colleen Hoover and erect a gate around your property to keep rabid fans out! You will have to come out from behind your writer’s desk and be visible. Yep this is a big one, too. But honestly? We should all be so lucky. You can cross that bridge when you come to it. Maybe you can become a famously reclusive writer like J.D. Salinger. But for now, don’t worry about it. Unless you are already wildly successful and if so leave a comment to tell us how you cope.

So what is a writer to do?

Thoughts on Countering Resistance

The first cut is the deepest

Getting started is far and away the hardest part. If you settle into your writing session and can’t seem to put any words down, the not writing will grow from there. It’s like keeping a secret, it gets harder and harder to deal with. So the obvious answer is to put something, anything, down. And yes, it also sounds trite. But guess what? It really does work. Anne Lamott famously talks about writing “shitty first drafts” and you can follow suit and write a shitty first word, sentence, or paragraph. Once you get a word or several down on the page, your brain will kick in and remember that you do indeed know how to do this, and you enjoy it, fears of failure, success, and anything else be damned.

Shun the language of war

Traditional productivity peeps talk resistance in the language of violence. Smash your word count! Slay the day! As a female writer, this doesn’t always resonate with me. Sometimes—often—I’m more successful as coaxing myself to do the things I love when I do it in a gentler fashion. This takes the form of complimenting myself, encouraging my work. “Look, you wrote a sentence! Awesome! Now you can do another.” And so on. Pretend you’re talking to a child—and in a way, you are—your frightened inner child.

Maybe there’s a reason

This may be my single most useful tip. Resistance always, or at least often, has meaning. You may be gazing out the window or folding laundry or even treating yourself to a gin and tonic because something isn’t working in the manuscript. You’re resisting working on it because you don’t know what to do. You’ll know this is the case when you make a stab at it, get a few words or a couple sentences on the page, and then falter. Don’t worry, this is not a big deal, you just need to figure out what’s wrong. In my experience, it’s something simple. Try switching to a new setting. Write a scene where you have narrative summary, or vice versa. Add another character to the scene.

And this is the place for side writing by the bucket-load! (Side writing is when you write about the story, not in it. Some people frown on it, but I’m a huge fan. It’s where I get some of my best ideas.) Grab your journal or writer’s notebook, find yourself a prompt, and start writing. Some prompts that might be useful:

—What I think happens next in the story is….

—If I knew what happened next in the story, it would be….

—My protagonist tells me that…..

—If I were to change the location of this scene, I’d move it to…..

—What character might have reason to enter the scene?

Note we are not working on huge, overarching themes or big plot movements here. We’re just trying to get you back on track and quit resisting your writing. I hope this is helpful to you in countering resistance. Other suggestions are welcome—please leave ideas in the comments!

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Also, I can help you with your resistance, getting words on the page, getting the book of your heart finish, completing your novel. A couple of my clients have gone on hiatus so I have room for two more writers on my roster. This could take the form of ongoing book coaching, or a manuscript evaluation. If you’re interested, drop a comment. Or reply to this post if it comes into your inbox.