Getting Your Writing Mojo Back, by Josh Stallings

 

Q: In your writing life, how do you cope with your self-doubt, feelings of inadequacy, frustrations, and despair? I’d really like to know.

A: This is a hard but timely question. There is a multiverse of different forms of what I’ll call, “I suck so bad why bother typing” syndrome. 

Near the mid point in every project I am sure that I’m not up to the task of writing the book. It is either the wrong book or I’m the wrong writer for it. Erika always reminds me I’ve been here before, on every book. Right, but this time it feels real. The only cure for mid way book blues is to keep writing and push through. By midway I don’t need any more deep dives into research, don’t need a focus group or friendly critique. I just need to trust in the process and get typing. 

I hate “trust in the process”,  seems like a bullshit line like “the dog ate my best draft.” But what it means here is, I need a certain amount of critical mistrust in my work to keep myself digging deeper. Not so much that it cripples me, just enough to keep me honest. Somewhere near the middle of a book I slip out of balance, and the only way to prove my abilities to myself is to do some hard good writing. That yin yang, love hate relationship with a project is my process. It has always pulled me from the fog of self loathing. I need to trust it will get me home once more.  

As for despair, the business of getting an agent, getting a publisher, losing your perfect editor in the middle of a draft, having a book fail to sell, most of us have been through these trials and they are fucking brutal. They will lead the cheeriest of us to despair, disillusionment and depression.

When these strike I remind myself that hard times and depression are not a writer thing, they’re a life thing. I know something about this. I’ve fought depression off and on all of my life. 

In my younger days I used drugs and booze to get through personal difficulties. This solution more often than not made things worse. Getting sober I had to learn to get over myself. Turns out my pain is not special. I am not so brilliantly broken that you’d never understand me. I’m just a dude trying to make it through the night. 

I’ve been lucky to be friends with many talented writers, to a one they have told me they too have had to walk through painful feelings and self doubt. Accepting that I am not made special by my pain allowed me to see that I am also not alone in it. As a writer I am a worker among brilliant workers. 

Recently I found peace. A new feeling that I am safe. It’s weird. It’s good. It came as a result of some deep thinking about success. What does it mean to me? It’s a big idea so I broke it down to what does a successful day look like? If I go to bed without the need to make any amends, that would be a brilliant day. Only a few amends would be great too. That’s about mitigating bad behavior. I want to be a little more than just not being a jerk. Part of my recovery is some prayers. A month ago I started reading and saying the prayer of Saint Francis. 

Universe, make me a channel of thy peace,

that where there is hatred, I may bring love;

that where there is wrong, I may bring the spirit of forgiveness;

that where there is discord, I may bring harmony;

that where there is error, I may bring truth;

that where there is doubt, I may bring faith;

that where there is despair, I may bring hope;

that where there are shadows, I may bring light;

that where there is sadness, I may bring joy.

Universe, grant that I may seek rather to comfort

than to be comforted;

to understand, than to be understood;

to love, than to be loved. 

For it is by self-forgetting that one finds.

It is by forgiving that one is forgiven.

Trying to live up to these ideals as a matrix for determining success takes it out of the hands of others and gives me control over achieving my success.

What the heck does that have to do with writing? Good question. What do book sales or critic's opinions or awards have to do with writing? Nothing. Zippity do dah. Zilch.

It is impossible to compare myself to other writers when I’m writing. The act of writing is all consuming. It is a meditative practice. There is no room for outside world bullshit when typing a new world into existence. 

My trouble comes not when writing, but when I’m thinking of writing.

"I don't believe that one should devote his life to morbid self-attention. I believe that someone should become a person like other people.” - Paul Schrader, screenplay for Taxi Driver

The good news is I can write any damn book I want. Chase any story and dream that calls to me. I can slip into my office, crank up Otoboke Beaver (a Japanese all girl punk band my son Jared turned me on to) grab the keyboard and I’m flying.

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What I’m Reading now: The Flamethrowers by Rachel Kushner