“Much
that is learned is bound to be bad habits. You’re always beginning again.” W.S.
Merwin
We
have this mistaken idea that bad habits are the result of some weakness, some
character flaw. But our least helpful writing habits are more likely to result
from things we’ve inadvertently learned. That means there’s this good news—once
we’ve identified these learned behaviors for what they are, we can unlearn
them.
Here,
five habits we writers would do well to banish:
Comparing our
progress with others:
As writers, we’re each on our own journeys. None of us will move along exactly
the same trajectory toward exactly the same end. So while it’s fine to be
inspired by the success of other authors, it’s silly—and potentially
demoralizing—to expect our successes to follow theirs. In truth, some of our
most significant accomplishments happen on the page, in relation to our craft,
and these may happen in ways that aren’t immediately acknowledged by anyone but
ourselves.
Making excuses: You want to
write, but you don’t have the time. Or you don’t know how to start. Or your
kids keep interrupting. Writing doesn’t have to be your top priority, but
should it really be your last? Alice Munro, one of the most brilliant authors
of our era, wrote her early stories while her children were napping. Even if
you can only write for ten minutes a day, that’s a start.
Getting in a rut: You keep at your
work, but you sense it’s flatlining—characters languish, story lines run on and
on, language sounds wooden. While persevering is admirable, it’s also helpful
to do a reality check every now and then. If you’re in a rut, come at your
project from another angle. Take a workshop. Get some coaching or editing
advice. Study a craft book.
Sharing too soon: Agents and
editors see this problem all the time—writers have a good concept, but it’s
poorly executed. Or they have nice execution, but the concept’s not fully
developed. In either case, the problem is the same—the work went out before it
was ready. When you think you’re finished, wait. Days, weeks, even months. When
you return to the project, you’ll see the flaws, and you’ll have new
perspectives on how to correct them.
Losing touch with
the joy: Beneath
the hard work of what we do, there’s the joy of discovery, of creating beauty
on the page, of engaging readers. If you find yourself losing touch with that
joy, take a step back. Allow yourself to write something just for fun. It’s not the
destination that matters so much as the journey.
For
more on becoming the writer you hope to be, see Deb’s Write
Your Best Book.