The usual disclaimer here. I’m not a shrink. I did, though, write myself one, once, when I was feeling a bit out there… but I didn’t like his advice so I deleted him.
Most of us, at one time or another -- “Us” being authors -- have had “difficult” days that others put off to “Artistic Temperament.” That’s their polite way of saying we’re being an ass. My general response is “Up yours.” Authors aren’t any more subject to being temperamental than anyone else, right?
Yeah, right. If you’re reading this, you’re more than likely an author, and you know better. While none of us like to admit it, we’re generally not the most emotionally stable people out there. Almost every author I know tends toward the ADD side of the personality dysfunction. It’s our ability to totally disconnect from reality that allows us to close out the world and zone in on our characters. “Normal” people don’t generally create whole other worlds to live in in their imaginations. If you’re not gifted innately with this talent -- the flip side of ADD, Hyperfocus -- you’ve had to learn it. Physically close the door, lock out the world, turn on your favorite “Writing” music -- whatever gets you there.
The very behaviors that allow us to write also tend to encourage depression. I’m not talking about the chemical imbalance in the brain depression. Though God knows many writers may well suffer from that as well. What I am talking about is situational depression. When we’re “In the zone” we physically and mentally isolate ourselves from distractions. These often include other people. There’s not a whole lot in the world more distracting that a four year old screaming “Mommy!” But if you think about the situation that encourages Post Partum depression -- new mother, baby needing constant attention, lack of sleep, total focus on a little someone who wants, constantly -- we set ourselves up in the same situation.
Look around you, Dear Writer. Have you gotten into the habit of writing while everyone else is asleep? Does the deadline looming over you put you into a total panic? Are you so totally focused on this plot -- which “is NOT working, damn it!” that you can’t remember the last time you ate something that didn’t come out of a box? When’s the last time you talked to another human?
Learn to work to some sort of a schedule. Take a piece of paper, and a ruler and pen, or a spreadsheet if you’re like me -- and make yourself a time sheet. Analyze your day. Plot out blocks of time where you can actually write -- and make sure you schedule at least 8 hours of sleep. That way you should get at least 6. Cause yeah, we’re writers, we cheat.
Writing the book is important, yes. But you’re not going to do your best work when you’re functioning on 4 hours of sleep a night. And I read somewhere that prolonged lack of sleep can be used for a defense of temporary insanity… not that I’m planning to kill anyone… The point here is that if the biggest block of time you can come up with is three 30 minute snatches, and still sleep, well, those 30 minute breaks will be a lot more productive than if you write for 3 hours on 4 hours sleep. And you’ll feel a lot less homicidal.
Stock the house with nutritionally sound writer’s food. Contrary to popular writer opinion, you cannot live on Little Debbies and Coffee. Coffee is important, yes, and I recognize that many of us are Coffee Based Life Forms. But Coffee, too, needs a schedule. Cut yourself off at least 8 hours before you intend to crash for the night. And for those aberrations among us, like my Critique Partner, Treva, who doesn’t DRINK Coffee, tea is just as bad. Though it doesn’t warrant the capitol letter status of a goddess. And Diet Pepsi is stuffed full of caffeine, too. My rule of thumb is, no caffeine after 2 PM. That way I’m asleep before 2 AM. Preferably by midnight. As for the food, if you don’t buy it, it won’t be in the house, and you won’t eat it. Trash the junk food and stock up on easy to fix things that you know you’ll eat if they’re all that’s in the house. One little Debbie is OK. But you won’t eat one. You’ll eat the box, and ignore the sandwich makings in the fridge. And cardboard’s so not nutritionally sound…
Speaking of Treva… Critique Partners are, in my less than humble opinion, a writer’s best lifeline. When the plot’s working, and everything’s on a roll, we tend to be happy people. A long time CP will also know you well enough to pick up the phone and say “Hey. You haven’t been on line in days. What’s up?” Spilling your guts about the damn book and the idiot you were to have agreed to that deadline is often all it takes to put our world back in perspective. And one of the reasons we don’t talk to much of anyone when we’re in the zone is that few people would have a clue what we’re ranting about. Your CP will always understand. She may laugh at you, but it’ll be for the right reasons. And you can relish the thought of doing the same to her when it’s your turn.
Margaret Riley
www.Changelingpress.com