Malibu, tickled that she’s tick-free
A couple of days ago, my cat came in with a large tick between her shoulder blades. Ticks are things that should never be invited to champagne parties, debutante balls or bar mitzvahs. They are vile things, going from the size of a fairy’s sneeze to a small olive in a few days by gorging mightily on their host’s blood. When I discovered the tick, I immediately did the wrong thing: I Googled “how to remove a tick from a cat.”
Juggling hand grenades would have been safer. Not only did I learn that ticks can give a cat Lyme disease, kitty paralysis and illegible handwriting, but removing them in the wrong way (and all suggested ways were deemed wrong or contradictory in the next link) would leave behind all kinds of tick mouth machinery, plus a toxic squirt of the poisons ticks carry when the tick-removal service (me), in his stress to remove it, inadvertently squeezes the tick.
The Tick (or Tic) of Writing Paralysis
What has this to do with writing? This: Invariably, with writing projects or assignments pending, my brain freezes. “I can’t write about that, I’m not qualified, I don’t know the subject well enough, the editor won’t like it, my keyboard is dirty.” These are the songs in the skull that stop the first word of a story, article or essay. Thus, after thoroughly immersing myself in how to remove a tick, I got to work: for 24 hours, I fretted on the tick’s removal from my skittish cat, which resulted in my tick swelling a third again in size, and tick lobbyists everywhere rejoicing.
Note: this feckless ticking coincided with me not having started two article assignments for which I had the interviews transcribed and the background info recorded. Why hadn’t I started? My keyboard was dirty. Besides, the editors wouldn’t like what I came up with. [Note, I know from years of experience that just starting writing, even if the writing is crackers, gets the story in gear. But why should I listen to writing tips from me?)
When I touched the tick the next morning, its ghastly growth sickened me. I dithered for a bit, then grabbed Malibu (who is quite resistant to more than a moment’s grabbing), got my fingernails under the hairline and twist-yanked him out clean. She took it placidly. Look, 30 hours of shilly-shallying, and with two seconds of work, tick-free!
Or so I thought. I was astonished when I thoroughly ran my hands through Malibu’s fur again, and I found another tick! Much smaller than his engorged ancestor, but head in, and working away. But this time, I didn’t spend any time thinking about the process. Same procedure, same result: Tick in a jar of rubbing alcohol, cat on the floor not acting as though anything out of the ordinary had happened.
Grabbing the Assignment by Its Bloody Neck
Oh, after I removed the ticks, I started (and finished) one of my writing assignments. I started and finished the other today. I KNOW that I have a brain-itching resistance to starting a piece, I know that once I start that the gates of serendipitous writing will open, but yet, I have to dance this same ding-dang dance almost every time. Ticks me off.
Lesson: just start. Start anywhere, start with random words, start with a single sentence. Type and ye shall be free. And you ticks out there—I’m on to you.
Please share your tick-removal tips (no blowtorches) in the comments. Or how you manage to start a writing project without bedeviling yourself. Happy Holidays!
Started writing and realized my answer is FAR too long to fit in this comment box.
So it’s here: http://somedaybox.com/youre-not-getting-your-writing-done-because-youre-building-the-wrong-habit/
Joel, absolutely, developing a writing habit in the way you describe on your post can be a pleasure, rather than a pain. The situation I’m describing is somewhat different, in that I’m talking about writing for article deadlines—with issues of editors, word counts and tone/slant reqs— rather than something open-ended like a novel (though I dither on my novel writing as well). But that mindset you describe could be very useful for moving into any kind of writing in a more organic way.
Understood. But I think the only addition to what I wrote, in your case, would be tracking what’s due next so that’s what you work on.
This same process is how I wrote articles on two blogs every week for the past year, and sent a monthly newsletter for each.
Habit is how difficult things get done. And, counterintuitively, the more emotionally driven a person is, the more habit helps.
Agreed, the habits make working with the writing a “handshake and let’s sit down,” rather than a wary circling around a room. My own habits (or lack thereof) are one of the things I’ll be examining (with gloves on) for my approach to 2016.
If there’s any chance you’d like to be a guinea pig, this is something I’ve longed to teach writers, how to find and develop the right habits.
Sure, daddio. Contact me about it offline, but it would have to be sometime in January.
By the way, here’s a persuasive piece on getting into the “5 Minutes of Writing a Day” habit, and its benefits:
http://m.prdaily.com/Main/Articles/19801.aspx