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Recent conversations with writer friends threw up a really interesting issue. One said, rather despairingly, “I don’t know if I even actually like writing!” We kicked that around a bit and happily, agreed that we do like writing – what we find incredibly difficult is starting to write. One of us, known hereafter as the Queen of Procrastination, not only plays a game of Patience rather than getting on with writing, but then tells herself it will be the best of three and then she will start. (There are those among us who could even go to the best of five.) Having exhausted the joys of Spider Solitaire then how about checking up on that email we heard arrive? Perhaps just pop onto eBay and give some feedback? Or Google whatever happened to Natalie Wood… which reminds us that we have a DVD of The Great Race with her, Jack Lemmon, Tony Curtis and Peter Falk and as it’s one of the best films in the world it will be entirely appropriate (in the name of research into oh, I don’t know, fashionable outfits for Victorian motoring, perhaps) to sit and watch it. And so it goes. Anything rather than open the damn document and get writing! Or for those not using a computer, open the notepad.

One thing is for sure – we are not alone. Author K.M. Weiland addresses this in her blog with insight and humour, as well as offering practical solutions. Of her seven suggestions, two in particular resonated with me:

Take Care of Yourself Before You Take Care of Your Writing
Inhale Information and Inspiration

Well worth a look.

She uses this apposite illustration from twilightprince102:

Back to my writer friends. Where does this reluctance come from? We all agreed that once we’ve actually got going and things are flowing beautifully, as so frequently happens, then writing is one of the most amazing things you can do.  I tell myself that. I tell myself, “Avril, you know that once you’ve got started you’ll really enjoy this. So do it! You do not need to send a hand-crafted birthday card to your great-aunt. You do not need to check whether the cat has used the litter tray. You do not need to pop down to the greenhouse and look at the progress of the lettuce. You can look at Twitter later.’ But somehow I ignore myself, do all those things (and more) and the document remains obdurately unopened. In fact, just typing Twitter was enough to send me away from writing this to see if there’s any mileage in asking the Queen to exercise her Royal Prerogative and dissolve Parliament…  The internet is an absolute joy but it is awash with ways to distract us from the task in hand.

I was so intrigued by all this I actually talked to my long-suffering therapist about it. What he had to say was very interesting. He pointed out that it was part of the human condition to fear the unknown. Better the Devil we know. We often prefer to stay as we are rather than take a chance on change. He pointed out that we often perceive change as uncomfortable. He compared the journey from sitting at the desk thinking about our magnum opus to opening the document and actually writing as requiring us to cross No Man’s Land. And that is very hard.

I identified a long time ago that I have transition anxiety in all areas of life. I first wrote about this in Just Women magazine in the spring of 1995. My ex-husband summed it up neatly.

“Avril,” he said, with the air of a man whose moment had come, “You treat change as though it were a hurdle flung in your path by a malevolent Fate. You are deeply suspicious and resentful to the point where you take the changing of the seasons as a personal slight. Your resistance is awesome. You have the worst attitude to change of anyone I have ever met. Compared to you, the Luddites were feckless, frivolous innovators. You are a monument to the status quo. Stubborn. Wilful. Bloody-minded.”

Ah well. Not all bad, then.

A quarter of a century later and not much has changed. If I am in place A – say my favourite armchair, and need to go to place B – say a party in the Village Hall, I exhibit a degree of reluctance that is quite astonishing. “Do I have to?” is my mantra. Compare that with my friend Dee, who has an impressive capacity for excited anticipation, so she is all rarin’ to go when I am doing a quick mental head-to-toe scan to see if I have any symptoms which might enable me to skive off.  It’s what happens next that intrigues me. Somehow we go to the party. And once we’ve made our entrance, it’s almost all over for Dee. She could quite happily go back home. Whereas I, Miss Uncongeniality 2021, am usually the last to leave. Because having been unenthusiastic about going from A to B, I am now dragging my heels about going from B to A.

I know that the joy of travel is supposed to be about the journey more than the destination, but as anyone who as ever embarked on a trip with me can testify, I, like a fine wine, do not travel well. Somehow, I attract catastrophe like a magnet.  I wish I could just teleport.

It may be strange to think of sitting at a desk, opening a document and typing a few words as a journey, but if you call it a transition, I find it makes sense. So what gets me to brave the transition and go to the party? Not wanting to disappoint Dee helps. So accountability. To myself and others. If an author has a publishing contract and the promise of a generous cheque, then accountability is built in. How do we bring accountability into our writing if we don’t have a publisher or agent? (Yet.) Some people swear by a writing group – you make a pledge, a statement of intent about your work and hey presto, there are others holding you to account. Enterprising Writers recognises that and helps writers create useful routines and productive practices.

Some of my projects have been co-written, and that can work very well. It’s like going to the party with a friend.

I also go the party because past experience tells me I will enjoy it. I will meet friends old and new, and that is how we nourish ourselves, especially our creativity. Back to inhaling information and inspiration. Faced with my inertia, I sternly ask myself if I want to just stay as I am and become a grumpy old recluse. (I give myself a lot of inspirational talks.) Similarly with writing. Do I want to check-out with a drawer full of un-read manuscripts or do I want my books out in the world being enjoyed, made into films starring Millie Bobby Brown of Stranger Things, discussed on TV’s Between the Covers and appreciated by book groups up and down the land? Yes, yes, a thousand times yes. Well, get on with it, then.

P.S I’m not above tricking myself in to getting going – and one of my friends uses the same ruse. I tell myself I don’t have to actually write – just do some editing, check for typos and so on. It’s akin to saying I’ll just pop my head round the door at the party, but can go home if I want. Before I know it, I’m dancing to Let’s do the Time Warp Again. Or deep into the next chapter.

This post originally featured on the Enterprising Writer blog on the 14th of July 2021.