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You and me, writers wild and free. Right?
Yes.
There is nothing better than the freedom of the Shitty First Draft. And I am a loyal, for real fan of Shitty First Drafts. So let’s be very clear, when I talk about constraints I’m not talking about the kind that make you clench your teeth and tighten your shoulders and hold your breath as you write. In other words, the constraint of trying to make everything perfect as you write. Down that process, madness lies.
Today, I’m talking about a kinder, gentler constraint, one I’m particularly fond of. And that would the container. I’m referring to finding a shape to put your writing into, almost like creating a room with four walls for it. That sounds very vague, so allow me to explain.
Often when I write my Sunday love letter, I’m pondering it all week, collecting ideas, making notes on my Google Keep app, telling Siri to write something down while I’m driving, scrawling a thought on a post-it. And it’s a big heaping mess.
So what I need is a container for it.
I open a new blank post page on the Substack back-end and start filling things in. A title, which may be temporary. An image, same same. I corrall and transfer some notes. Sometimes if I get stuck, I put in titles for all the stuff I add in after the letter, the resources and book lists. The page is tightening up. I can begin to see what it will look like when finished. I can see where the holes are. And this constraint, this container, is what spurs me on.
I do this with a new chapter for a novel, too. Again, I may have notes all over the place. (Although I will say I swear by the Craft app for digital organizing.) So I open a new Word file, and start throwing things in. I add the chapter heading. I remember that Anne Lamott says all I have to do is a short assignment, one tiny bit to get started. So I do that. And soon I am off and running. Or at least strolling. But it’s not until I actually have created the container of the Word doc that the chapter begins to come together.
It works in reverse, too. I’m an inveterate journaler, but I have to have the right journal. (Not to mention the right pen, but that’s another story.) The right container. I favor the classic Moleskine or Leuchterrms but I’m open to trying others. (My sister brought me a great one from Costa Rica, for instance.) Recently, I cheaped out and bought a sad clone of the aforementioned journals. I thought it would be fine. I was wrong. And, ridiculously, I couldn’t use it. Wouldn’t work because it wasn’t the right container. I sidelined it for (hopefully) a future use of some kind.
So, moral of the story: find a container, a constraint, for your project. It will help you shape and mold it. Just trust me.
I’d love to hear your ideas for containers. Or, for that matter, constraints.
That’s it for now. I’ll see you on Sunday with the weekly love letter.
Read, enjoyed, and shared! :-) As my mind is all over the place with my next book, a memoir, this post arrived at a good time. Write on, my friend!