Tired, slow, the usual. Left the house a bit later because it’s Valentine’s Day and my kids wanted to exchange our valentines before I left. That was fun. They’re cool, cute, creative kids. I felty antsy by the time I got out the door though, worried about the delay, which now makes it harder to focus, shifting out of that agitation into writing focus. Sigh. It’s hard work. It’s hard because the task is hard, this is a hard thing to do. I wish it could be easy. I’m sure it could be easier, I want in the long term to improve my emotional habits (I think that’s Helen Sword’s term), I think (in my head but do not believe in my heart) that the experiential qualities of writing for me are not fixed but malleable. That will be a slow process though and is secondary (tertiary!) to getting writing done and to other responsibilities. I think I see a pattern in these entries, something like the following: write out what’s on my mind, often negative feelings that are writing liabilities, then notice those feelings, then get more contemplative and abstract and with that calmer. Then (which I’m turning to next), talk about doing the work. So, doing the work - I’m going to get out the paper folder now and read it. Wish I’d started sooner today, but not the end of the world. The pattern is one of improvement, even if there are some individual throwback days. The real measurements are in the output and the process, the arc over time, not the individual instance.
Okay I’ve got the paper copies out and know what to do, starting now.
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Up relatively early. Tired. Cold outside. Left while family was still sleeping. I resent that, miss them. On the other hand leaving while their awake makes me miss them too. I wasn’t ready to go back to work so soon after the baby’s birth. And this is the longest time off I’ve had out of all three kids. Sigh.
Typing on the bus, trying to get focused so I can start right in to the work when I get to campus. I started the interlude yesterday, felt anxious to be at a new part of the book, and I’m making what feel for me like bold points, scared I’ll get in trouble for that. When I get in I’ll get coffee, get my physical space set up, then work for a little bit on the interlude. I believe I have the notes all organized now, a sort of annotated outline. Going to work on turning that into real draft of prose. I’d like the interlude to go fast and I think that’s possible. In other moments in the day I’ll work a little on source acquisition. It’s nice that the book, the 1st draft anyway, is proceeding apace. I’m excited to have a book, a full manuscript, in the near future. Wrote. Went well enough. Onto the rest of my day. In a free moment now later in the day, looking up sources for the next part, feeling agitated. Spent the morning at home w/ the baby while my wife and kids did an outing. It was nice and I am now a bit agitated - mind’s going in lots of directions - because a late start, and because I’m tired. But I’m always tired. I’m at a coffee shop now, the caffeine should kick in soon. I have the paper copy of chapter three out. I’m going to put in my headphones and turn to the work.
Was looking up citations, not sure that’s best use of my time but will be good to get this chapter draft closed off. Anyway, that got me into researching new sources online for a bit I cut from this chapter and moved to later. That’s not what I should do right now. Recentering. Done. Chapter’s done. Pleased about that. Going to move into the interlude a little for the sake of my next work session having an easier start. Spent 15 minutes reviewing paper copy of ch3, got through to the end of the doc. Didn’t want to, did it anyway. Proud of that. Later in the day now I’m going through and doing the easy notes, line edits and stuff, things that the paper notes state very clearly and involve just following those orders (‘cut this’ etc). Not doing the more complicated one (‘re-organize this paragraph’). This is B or C time, basically, because family’s watching videos and occasionally interacting with me, distracting and I need to be interruptible. But this kind of work suits this kind of time well, so that’s nice to learn.
I’ve worked through page 13 of the draft on this round and want to stop, am going to do the stuff on page 14 first, looks like page 15 gets more complex in notes. Reading Professors as Writers in the writing group. I’d remembered I liked it, and forgotten most of the content. Going to do the things he instructs, writing about my writing, especially the hard parts.
My recent writing experiences have gone well, all things considered. The hard parts: I worry that the book sucks or that I won’t finish and either way that I will lose my job (and I worry about the various circumstances that would follow from that). I worry sometimes that I’m not cut out to write the book I’d like to write, or that I don’t know anything worth saying. It’s hard to make myself start, I want to do other things instead, especially other responsibilities I have. Staring a new big chunk is one of the hardest things because the prose is so bad and I feel confused and judgmental about my confusion and the confused nature of the prose as I’m figuring out what to say. The middles of drafts are fine. Revising, especially starting to revise, is is another of the hardest things because I read over my draft and think it’s so bad. I get really frustrated and impatient, very much want to be done. And sometimes I dwell on the aspects of my circumstances that are less than ideal when it comes to writing, when really the main issues I face aren’t circumstantial, they’re things I’d worry about even if I won the lottery and still tried to write. If anything, the external threats of my job are part of how I manage to get the writing done so winning the lottery I’d be less likely to write the book. Boice’s questions p34-35, 1. Distaste for writing. Is it difficult, tiring? It’s difficult when I know that I’m writing, when I’m reading the prose I’m writing. The hardest parts are starting - the anticipation just before, it’s easy to procrastinate - and rereading. When I’m actually typing it’s enjoyable to be in motion. I feel like at certain moments I’m sort of looking at myself, aware of myself as doing writing, and those are more unpleasant. At other moments, I’m just writing and then the actual doing of the work is enjoyable, and I will occasionally have very brief moments of self-awareness like ‘I’m writing! hurray! the work is proceeding!’ or ‘I’ve written a lot of words today’ or ‘I like this idea’ etc, and those are enjoyable. The work is tiring, somewhat. The bad feelings are, I think, at least as tiring as the work itself, and if they crop up during the work then the work is much more tiring. The thing I need to do when that happens is just keep writing, not engage myself in an argument (‘no actually this doesn’t suck’ or whatever just distracts me more and makes me more uncomfortable because the negative self-talk gets louder like it’s arguing)’. If I keep writing it’s like my negative self-talk walks away and sulks quietly because I ignored it. 2. Lack of time. I have pretty well managed time actually, I’m proud of what I’ve achieved on this. It’s still hard to balance all the priorities in my life, and the other priorities become satisfying (hence dangerous) excuses for not writing. But I keep working at making it a priority to do the work of writing, even if that means other things I still care about are going to be more uncomfortable. 3. Lack of confidence. I have lots of doubts and fears, and they talk to each other. What if the book sucks, and then it doesn’t get published, and I lose my job, and we can’t pay our mortgage...? Stuff like that. The latter sort of camp on to my doubts about my work and my abilities and skills and underline or turn up the volume on my worries about that stuff. I do think I’m smart, but I don’t know if I’m smart enough to do what I want. I also don’t always trust my audience/my field/etc to be kind - I imagine hostile or indifferent readers, and ones in positions of institutional power. All of this definitely encourages me to be timid. I think I’m good at pushing against that but it comes at the cost of discomfort. I think everything I’ve done that someone I respect has said ‘oh that’s cool’ about is a thing I’ve felt like I wasn’t allowed/authorized to say and about which I had imagined a negative audience response of some kind, I’m good at leaving that stuff in despite the discomfort but obviously the discomfort is, well, uncomfortable. 4. Writing anxiety. How does it feel? My stomach drops sometimes, like when you go down a hill fast on a roller coaster, and I sometimes thing I might cry. (I have cried over the writing, especially rereading and revising.) It feels like being really scared, and it’s easier in that headspace to be scared of other things. 5. Inability to start. I don’t generally have and haven’t generally had this. I’m way more likely to nervously direct my attention elsewhere, fill my time with other stuff and so on, than I am to sit at the keyboard unable to type. I’m pretty good at typing, I can just go ‘fuck it, whatever, I’ll say some dumb stuff no one will care about here goes’ and sort of write my way into doing actual writing on my stuff. I need to start doing that kind writing-to-get-into-writing stuff though, like once I commit/decide to do that then the writing will happen. If I avoid that then I’m less likely to write. I try to be very honest with myself about this and it mostly works, I do start and I do write. I am working though on starting sooner, going from zero to sixty in less time, so to speak. 6. Inability to finish. I have sometimes set aside work late in the process before sending it in because the evaluation scares me. But I do mostly finish work. If anything I’m likely to cut corners on the finish because sick of the bad feelings of the writing and of feeling scared of evaluation. Like I walk more quickly if I feel the future readers’ eyes on me, and that going more quickly isn’t necessarily a good thing because I might cut corners on things that are important to do. 7. Other disruptions. I probably am too negative. I cope by just saying I’ll do it even if it feels impossible. My feelings of impossibility and hopelessness aren’t evidence of impossibility. I can write even if I feel like I will fail. I’m proud of that skill in writing anyway, I worked to achieve it. And doing so, I then lift my mood by writing my way there. It also helps a lot to build in contact with others, writing alongside someone or talking with them about my work/showing them my work, asking them to read a little bit and tell me it’s good. The numerical assessments. 1. Distaste 7. 2. Lack of time 2. 3. Lack of confidence 7 4. Anxiety 7. 5. Inability to start 4 6. Inability to finish 3. 7. Other, 5 Done with this. I believe there are more writing exercises like this in the Boice book later. If so, I’ll do them offline and add them to this post later. Very tired, late at night, family’s in bed, had some grading to do. Almost didn’t work on book. Decided to spent 15 minutes reading over chapter 3 draft further. Went well enough. Glad I did the work.
Got in earlier, am in the chair. Started reading over my draft of ch3 on the bus, am going to continue directly with that. Please to see that number 27 at the top, almost a month’s worth. I think this is working, helping me help myself. Anyway back to the reading.
Ugh someone’s watching a video at the library with the speakers up instead of headphones. Getting out my headphones. 13 pages in. my impatience kicking hard, and perfectionism. I want this chapter to be done! and that’s contagious - I want the next one done, the whole book done, and why is everything in the world so slow rraaaarrgh. My inner toddler. And every typo or sentence or paragraph needing revision feels like a personal failing uncovered. Definitely worth working on those emotional habits. Sigh. Made it to top of page 20. Feeling calmer. There’s some good in here, and the revisions I’m finding are needed and that I’m figuring out how to do are going to improve the book. I can feel my mind getting tired and I have other things to do so I’ll move on. Good to work sustainably, quit while the work still feels good but just good, not great - the highs of dramatic endings to work sessions (‘I finished a big chunk!’) come at the costs of harder starts. Have to remember that. Staying in the middle is best, lower highs but higher lows and the latter matters more. Got in and down to work relatively early for me, and went straight in. On the way in I read a bit and thought a bit for this interlude I’m working on. There’s way more here than I can fit into my book. I need to get clear on what exactly this part of the book is, specifically what it is as part of the book, how it contributes to the whole. Anything that doesn’t fit into that doesn’t belong in teh book. Likely I will need to just write a lot and cut a lot. Along the way it occurred to me that there could be another book in all the stuff that doesn’t fit here. I sketched some notes on that, just some 1-2 word thematic bullet points, and talked about it briefly with my friend Dan. That’s exciting. Then I reviewed the notes for this part of this actual book I am actually writing and felt less excited. The work is so hard and the starting place so empty and inadequate. Hard to be back at the beginning of a part of the book after getting a chapter nearly done. The middles are easiest. The starts are intimidating because of all the empty space, the ends are intimidating because I have to face the reality of the inadequacies of what I’ve actually written. Oh well. I’ve written good work before, by revising a lot and free writing a lot and so on. The methods I’m using have worked before, keep applying them. Also, I’ll say, I’m pleased that I started faster this morning,
Back to work. The usual - tired, cold, distracted. I hit snooze on my alarm then slept while it rang and dreamed A said ‘isn’t that your alarm?’ and then woke up and immediately felt but resisted the temptation to check email. I suppose this means I am on my own side, via the good people who are on my side. Another such person is Evan, called him on the drive in to talk about this chapter. I had in mind a section on moral hazard as a concern in my era but I looked and did not find the use of the term that I expected. I’ve decided to punt. I can make it make sense as a section early in a later chapter. Which means this chapter is basically done. I’m going to put review it for finishedness on my to do list, that’ s a B time task. Also going to put down that I should do regular B time research for that section when I get back to it later. This means for my writing session today I will shift to the next chapterish thing, the interlude in the middle. My free write on it feels pretty weird and out there. Evan said it sounds good and I should keep it in unless told to take it out. I’ll do that. Writing fearfully. On that, I’m going to turn to the book now. Pleased I didn’t mess around and went straight to book, it’s early in the day as well, lots of time.
Worked 25 minutes, mix of reviewing my notes/freewrites, free writing and outlining. I feel nervous, jittery, starting a new bit is intimidating. I think I have to do this four more times for the book, four new starts of bits. That’s doable. It’s all doable, just scary. I can act while scared, act reasonably despite feeling scared. It sucks to feel, that’s all, that’s a lived reality but not an operational matter, information about what it’s like to be me but not information that matters for the sake of doing the writing. The work’s not about me in the sense that doing the work means getting out of my own way. I wrote a to do list for writing the interlude. It includes doing a free write for each of the 7 or 9 sections of the interlude. I don’t want to! I want to read the primary sources instead. I was just telling my students yesterday to resist the temptation to read instead of writing early, how writing early is intimidating and feels like (probably really is) more work but is good for them and in the big picture productive. I’m going to follow my own advice though I really don’t want to. Maybe I’ll tell them, I like thinking of doing so, provides a bit of accountability and grounding. Going to work on those free writes. I took a crack at free writes dealing with all of the 8 or 9 points (tempted to check the exact number, not worth the time). Am tired now. Long writing session, but good. Lots of grist for the mill. Am feeling multiple things. Satisfied, proud of the work, I like some of the ideas. I think some of the ideas, probably all of them really, are poorly expressed. Some will likely not go into the book. And I feel like I’m ranting and raving, going outside what it’s okay to say. That’s partly impostor syndrome, partly lack of trust in my imagined audience, and partly fear of some people of a type that really does exist in the world (the gatekeepers and the arbiters of who gets to say what when about what). All of that is just noise, doesn’t matter if its accurate or not to the world, it’s just how my head gets echoey. It’s how the exertion feels. I’ve rolled the rock forward some more today, that’s as good as it gets. No time spent typing on topic is wasted, even if I write something I later cut, writing that material helps me get the ideas and develop the skills to write the stuff I keep. what’s the line, every strike helps me learn to hit the occasional home run. Okay going to call this the day, writing-wise. Going to log time and entry, get lunch, then onto other tasks. Again, proud I got right down to teh writing first thing. Good priorities. Working on posting this, and found yesterday’s entry too, will post that first. Entry 25. Pleased about that. A nice round number, a quarter century. almost a month. I think the diary is working well for me. Am at work. Snowy today, roads poorly plowed. My Minnesota attitude toward other people’s responses to winter coming out. Smugness is an ugly posture.
Slow in today, checked weather and traffic, my kid’s judo class schedule, chatted w/ my wife, I feel bad leaving. On arrival I’m tempted by email and so on. Won’t. Diving in to the work, well, climbing in. Getting out the folder right now. Folder wasn’t in the 1st or the 2nd places I looked, momentary scare. Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to not be scared so often. On the other hand, bravery’s precondition is fear and bravery’s a virtue I respect, at least in its small Piglet expression. Into the folder. Need music. I can hear sounds coming from outside my office, not hubbub public place sounds which I can tune out and make me feel less alone, these sounds feel different, unwelcome, intrusions, unsure why the difference. Read over the bits I’m working on. Revising means facing the reality of the prose. Sigh. |