When I wrote about not having time to write, it did not occur to me that those few paragraphs would turn out to be particularly meaningful. I have been engaged in an email discussion with a friend of mine ever since, talking about how hard life feels and how easy it is to make excuses. It is evident to many who write, and to just about everyone who would like to, that 'I haven't got time to write' is as lame an excuse as 'I am too busy'. Once you start looking at your life arrangements, you quickly realise that there is time to write (especially when you un-busy yourself a little). What then? Do you actually leap from your chair, fist-pumping the air and running to the first available table with a notebook and a pen? No, you probably don't. You are infinitely more likely to find another excuse.
This problem with excuses is one that afflicts people across all professions and all industries at one time or other. I do find, however, that writers are incredibly apt at manipulating excuses in order to delay the sitting-down-in-front-of-the-screen moment, when the inner sound of one's own brain being squeezed into creative effort is about as pleasurable as running nails up and down a blackboard for hours.
I understand that my words on this, and other such related matters, may occasionally sound as if dictated by a conceited sense of self-assurance built over years of practice, as if I were telling you that I know so much better, that I can recognise excuses even before they peek their noses inside my head, and that I would never consider using one because they are unethetical, immoral and the stuff of writing hell. Actually, I am as apt at clutching an excuse, no matter how whispy thin, as anyone else. I just do not allow myself to indulge with too many or for too long a period of time. To do so is to commit writing hara-kiri. So if you've been reaching for more excuses than you can handle, it is time to reflect on them and return to work unencumbered.
I often speak to people who sit on a very emotional scale regarding their writing. They say they are so blocked they fear they will never be able to write another page ever. They say that the family is giving them so many headaches they could not possibly contemplate writing a shopping list, let alone a story. They say that they are so stressed with work (the paid variety I mean), that by the time they sit down to write, inspiration is elsewhere, probably knocking back tequilas with those people who have the luxury of 'writing for a living'. I've heard from people who say they don't know where or how to start and from people who say that they simply 'cannot', whatever that means.
I do not intend outright to dismiss delaying, as there are valid reasons for it on occasion, but writers, despite their supposed dexterity with language, are remarkably capable at muddling reasons with excuses. This is partly down to the terms' organic quality to start as one and become the other, interchangeably. But do you know the difference between a reason and an excuse? A reason is a cause for a belief or action. An excuse is an explanation offered as a reason for being excused.
Note how reason is associated with action and how excuse is associated with explanation. In short, an excuse is a decoy camouflaged as a reason; it is a pretext for inaction.
Let's suppose that your publisher has just returned the first draft of your manuscript with a sackful of revisions in a separate document. Let's say that this separate document amounts to twenty pages of very substantial comments. You've skim-read these and are now sitting at your desk glassy-eyed (if not tearful), paralysed by the prospect of going back to your work with a clear head and a pick and an axe as editing tools. You have reasons to believe that you were mistaken after all: this document right here proves it. Because of it, you are shaken down to the foundations of your ability to create. You do have a reason for being momentarily unable to work, but please note that I say momentarily.
Let's fast-forward to three months from now. It is late spring, you're sitting at the same desk and are still feeling hurt and miserable following the revisions required of you. Now the reason for being stuck has become an excuse that justifies (or tries to justify) twelve weeks of idleness. While it should be noted that excuses often disguise fear of shortcomings (inadequacy, inability, incompetence, weakness, lack of originality), we must also understand that the writing business, while toying with excuses daily, does not allow for them.
If you want to be that person who writes for a living (oh the pitfalls of that idealised view... more on it another time) you cannot allow for self-pity, self-indulgence, emotional upheaval, to be your companions for any longer than a few days. Excuses are worse than physical ailments; they are the double-faced friends who pat you on the back while you are in distress and who work hard at keeping you in the black hole. They are the egotistical leeches that rob you of your creativity, your efficiency and your sense of purpose. Make friends with them at your peril.
thanks for your comment steph - i cannot wait for you/us, to do the experimental art e-course journey together. Am looking forward to it!
In regards to your post above, I often found myself asking 'why?' questions - why is this happening to me, why don't I get this, this, or that? And then things started to change when I read about asking 'how' questions and it really did help when I began to ask things more like: 'how can I make this work?', 'how can I get this job' etc etc, as your brain slips into problem solving mode and the brain really is a wonderful thing as you know :) Dream hard, work hard and commit to your creative cause, that's what I say!!
Lol,
Amelia.x
Posted by: Amelia Critchlow | 24 February 2010 at 17:03