by Heather Doyle Fraser
Productivity is a word that, in some contexts, is helpful. Dirty dishes? Yes, productivity is helpful. I like to eat off of clean plates and have a clean glass. No clean underwear or socks? Yes, let’s do that laundry and check that task off the list!
But what about writing? I see lots of noise right now around writing and productivity– it’s January, after all. What do I mean by noise? Here are some examples:
1000 words per day! No exceptions!
Your daily writing time is non-negotiable. You must write every day! And while you’re at it, make sure it is in the morning and that you write three pages (8.5 X 11) as quickly as possible – 10-15 minutes is good.
Write your book in a weekend, but only if you act now with my easy-to-use template! (Substitute any unrealistic amount of time here, such as “seven days” or “in only a month.”)
If you haven’t guessed yet, I don’t think productivity for productivity’s sake will get you very far in writing. Your task manager is not going to write your book or other big writing projects. In my book (yes, pun intended), process will support you on the page in a way that productivity just can’t touch. When you focus on the process of writing, you will achieve whatever goal you set for yourself eventually and at just the right time.
When you focus on process, presence is available. When you focus solely on productivity in writing, you often experience something you may not have expected: resistance.
You are human. You have a voice to share, and that is vulnerable. When we are vulnerable, we feel (at the least) uncomfortable and sometimes even under threat – from both our inner landscape and our outer world. When we feel uncertain or filled with doubt, often we bargain for control. If I just follow this system… If I just write 1000 words a day… If I just have the self-discipline to buckle down and overcome this resistance…
We’ve all been down this road at least once. Where does this leave us? It leaves us judging ourselves and what we do every minute of the day. We become only as good as our doing, forgetting about our being. This creates a harsh inner landscape that is confusing, conflictual, and contradictory to the creative journey of writing. Self-criticism and judgment with a side of shame.
What I am offering for your consideration is another way. A way that – at its foundation – relies on self-compassion, process, and trust.
First, let’s come to a place of fundamental understanding around the writing process. Not all writing needs to be for public consumption. Yes, I said it. Let that sink in for a moment. If you identify yourself as a writer (especially in a time when it is so easy to share your work online) it’s difficult to let go of the goal of productivity. We suffer under the expectation that everything we write must be shared and measured by the outside world. It’s difficult to remember that we can – and it is helpful – to be in the process of writing for its own sake.
I work with people who use writing as a way to share their message and themselves with the world. Often they are writing a blog, and they also may be writing a book or moving towards that goal. It’s good to have goals to move towards because when you start with the end in mind, it’s easier to get there. But sometimes, we become lost in the goal and lose sight of the process.
Good writers do a few basic things over and over that make them consistently better:
Write consistently without the expectation of sharing all of it. (You will be sharing – just not ALL of it!)
Read consistently multiple genres for enjoyment.
Practice the process of writing and reading over and over.
Trust the process of writing and revising: trust what you and your voice (your writing) needs each day.
And the nice thing is, even if you don’t consider yourself a “good writer” now if you do these basic things over time, you will become one.
A deep writing process is not for those who want the quick dopamine hit of a social media post where people will respond almost instantaneously. Deep writing practice and process requires you to shift your expectation around productivity. It’s a process of delayed outward gratification, but instantaneous internal gratification. Every moment spent in the practice allows you to grow. Every moment is productive even if it doesn’t appear so to the outside world.
The writing process favors being in the present moment rather than doing as much as you possibly can. It favors focus, and time, and exploration. There is no multi-tasking with writing.
What does this mean if you are writing a book?
First and foremost, there are no shortcuts, easy buttons, or templates that will bring you what you desire, which is your unique voice out there in the world, couched in story, and cradled in a book cover. There are no productivity hacks when you are starting out on your writing journey. Sure, you can track your words in each session, but what does that really mean? It only means you wrote that many words that day. It doesn’t mean that you will keep all of those words in whatever you are creating.
I find tracking words and your outward productivity is an ill-advised tactic that doesn’t always lead the beginner to their ultimate goal. This type of productivity tracking focuses you on the blades of grass instead of the bucolic expanse of the landscape in front of you. And it sets you up for feeling like a sloth and a harsh inner landscape filled with cutting self-criticism.
Pay attention to your resistance in your creativity. There is another – more compassionate – way to create that supports your voice without constantly also igniting your threat system.
When you first begin a consistent writing practice, time is your friend. You can commit to time on writing more easily than words on a page. For instance, when you are beginning, you can commit to twenty minutes of writing time and then incrementally increase the writing time as you become more comfortable with the practice of writing. Like anything you are beginning, start small and incrementally increase as you become more comfortable. Allow your comfort zone to expand with you as you progress. When your goal is time, and you are present for that time, you set yourself up for success and some momentum that will help you, not resistance that hinders you.
If we compare writing to any other activity that you would practice, it’s easy to see that a compassionate process leads to presence and generally growing stronger in the practice of whatever you cultivate. Let’s take exercise – running and walking in particular. I really enjoy short distances in the run/walk, especially the 5K distance.
I’m not fast. I run a bit (well, it’s probably better characterized as a jog), and I walk a bit as my body dictates. And I realize as I create a practice with running and walking, I enjoy it more and more. I find, too, that the practice of running is so similar to the practice of writing. It provides a physical manifestation of what I experience internally when I’m writing. I have to convince myself to start sometimes, and I always feel better afterward. I have even written a piece or two on the up-and-down relationship with running and writing and how they are so similar.
I’ve noticed some interesting things since I started exploring the similarities between writing and running on social media. Primarily because running is something that people track and have goals around, people who have read my posts about the connection between running and writing immediately assume that I am running to meet an outside goal. I’ve been asked so many times, “What are you training for? What race are you working towards.” And the curious always seem a bit surprised when I tell them that I’m not really training for anything. I just want to get better at running three times per week, feel strong, and build my lung capacity and fitness level so I can enjoy my body to its fullest extent for as long as possible. And I really enjoy how I feel when I’m done! That’s not traditionally productive, but it suits me and my needs just fine.
If we look at running and its similarities with writing, you wouldn’t ask yourself to run three miles tomorrow if you had never run a mile before. It’s the same with writing. You can’t expect to write 1000 words in your first writing session if you have never done it before. Moreover, you can’t expect yourself to consistently write that many words, day after day when you haven’t practiced for it. You won’t have the stamina to sustain it.
In the most simple terms, we need to flip our expectations on how we think about productivity when we embark on cultivating a compassionate writing practice.
When I am working with someone on a book, this expectation flip is particularly hard. If you are writing a book that caters to your voice that highlights your strengths as a writer and your message, it is not going to be one that you can write in three days, a week, or even a month. It’s a long layered process that meanders even when you have a book map. It grows and evolves as you grow and evolve. And once that first draft is done, you are not nearly finished.
And if you stick with it, over time, you will have the book in your hands, but only if you allow the process. And only if you allow that every word you write is not for public consumption. Some words will always only be just for you.
If this type of writing process sounds like something you would like to explore, join me in the ComPASSIONATE Writer. It’s a six-week program that allows you to explore and create a compassionate process that supports your relationship with your writing practice, your voice, and your book. Learn more HERE.