At the time I roughed out this post, twelve hours of unimpeded writing stretched before me. I was slouched in an IKEA armchair, feet propped on a windowsill, my view a boreal forest in the grip of an autumn palette.
“Contentment” is likely the emotion you’d ascribe to one in a position such as mine. Yet my heart was only just settling into a normal rhythm and an uncomfortable layer of sweat negated my morning shower.
What happened was this: for a half-hour, despite my backup system, I couldn’t locate the previous day’s writing—a breakthrough on the work-in-progress which promised to address the main weaknesses found during critique. Once I located the errant file and read it, I discovered it wasn’t the precious boon of my memory.
Further, I was fresh from reading the liquid poetry of another writer’s first draft. Nothing good ever comes from going down the wormhole of comparison, but good luck telling my mind that! So as a familiar cocktail of grief, envy, humiliation and anger sluiced through my veins, I was tempted to blow off the writing session with one of a hundred handy excuses.
Does this in any way sound familiar? I’m betting a few of you can relate. Though the triggers and specific emotions might vary, all creative people endure visits from the Drama Llama.
In other words, we insecure writers are a severely normal species.
There is good news, lest you think that I’m vying for the title of Most Depressing Blog Post Ever. (Or Most Hyperbolic.)
At some point in the past year, I’ve become better at handling such moments of potential derailment. The proof lies within the very existence of this essay, which was a better use of time than a freak-out and silent tantrum, wouldn’t you say? Also, that when I finished penning these lines, I returned to my underdeveloped manuscript and continued drafting fresh words.
How did I get to this new, improved resistance to Resistance? A smidgen of self-knowledge, a pinch of Zen wisdom, and tools cobbled together from various psychological disciplines—the subject of today’s post.
Treat Feelings with Healthy Skepticism
Cognitive therapists have identified several thinking errors which, when indulged, tend to lead to depression, anxiety, and disempowerment. One of these is the error of Emotional Logic in which a feeling’s existence serves as proof of its veracity. I feel X, therefore X must be true.
Some examples: I feel rejected so I must be unlovable. I feel ugly, so I must be unattractive. I feel invisible so I must be unwanted. I feel like a hack writer, so that must mean my prose is useless.
How about doubling-down to create a self-fulfilling prophecy? I feel like I’m incapable of improving my craft, therefore my present deficiencies are permanent.
Making Thoughts Conscious
The first step in countering Emotional Logic is cultivating some kind of mindfulness process so as to slow and capture our thoughts.
Meditation is a commonly prescribed method, whether taught in video format by masters such as Jon Kabat-Zinn, Sharon Salzburg, or via an app. (Here’s a set of Free Mindfulness Apps as recommended by Mindful.org.
Because it allows me to pin down my slippery thoughts, I’m a big fan of stream-of-consciousness journaling, which I do on an ad hoc basis for as long as required. Once upon a time, I kept a Moleskine journal and used a special pen for this purpose, but I’ve changed to coil-bound dollar-store notebooks. Their informality allows me to get honest, gritty, and real. (The writer, playwright, and creativity coach, Julia Cameron, discusses journaling in this video.)
Detachment, Not Suppression
So you’ve identified a process which allows you to notice the thoughts which produce Emotional Logic, and which sabotage your writing. Now what?
You’ve heard the expression that sunlight is the best disinfectant? Sometimes the mere act of identifying a thought is enough to make it lose its power. What once made you cringe becomes inconsequential, a source of amusement—perhaps a source of creativity, as with this article.
But how do you handle painful, recurrent thoughts? The psychological and medical literature are clear: don’t attempt to suppress them.
The reason is our basic biology and mental processing, as confirmed by functional MRI studies. Give your brain a message like Don’t eat chocolate! Don’t eat chocolate! and what it hears is Chocolate! Chocolate! (Why it’s advisable to state goals in positive language. i.e. “I will” versus “I won’t.” Also why people who make a career out of fighting against vice are often the ones who succumb.)
Instead, try these two techniques, which cultivate the art of detachment:
- Visualize the darker emotions as an approaching wave. Let it wash over you without trying to resist. Focus on mindful breathing. As it recedes, climb to your feet, pick the seaweed from your hair, pull up your bikini bottoms, and carry on. (For a more elegant description of the process, read Dr. Kelly McGonigal’s The Willpower Instinct, or Kabat-Zinn’s Full Catastrophe Living—two life-changing books.)
- My favorite technique, as described by Byron Katie: Go for a daily 5-10 minute walk and as your gaze rests on an object, give it a basic, non-judgmental name. Eraser. Pepper. Man. Move to the next object and continue the process. As you become comfortable, extend it to your thoughts, actions and emotions. Angry. Arguing. Dead.
Lastly, Build Upon Success and Flow
As I’m slowly learning, when the Drama Llama comes to visit, there’s no need to throw wide the stable doors, set out a gilded water bowl, and dodge his spittle whilst serving designer llama food. Rather, with time and practice, we can learn to greet him with a peaceful smile. We can offer a gentle pat and send him on his way with a “Safe journey, Drama Llama.” Then we can return to the page.
Each time we do this, we create a sense of confidence in our capacity to handle writing threats. We gain an opportunity to get taken over by the work and to enter a state of Flow, which is only my second-favorite emotional state in the world. *eyebrow waggle*
Now over to you, Unboxeders. You’ve handled writing derailments before. What restores you to your work? Please share in the space below.
PS: Want to feel old and instantly obsolete? Watch The Llama Song, which I found while looking for a suitable photo.
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About Jan O'Hara
A former family physician and academic, Jan O'Hara left the world of medicine behind to follow her dreams of becoming a writer. She writes love stories that zoom from wackadoodle to heartfelt in six seconds flat: (Opposite of Frozen; Cold and Hottie; Desperate Times, Desperate Pleasures). She also contributed to Author in Progress, a Writer's Digest Book edited by Therese Walsh.
This is so timely. I’ve been derailed in my writing this month (by a life situation out of my control yet very emotionally present on a daily basis). I’ve been employing my tried and true methods for getting back on track — including mindfulness and detachment, but they aren’t helping so much right now. As I struggle again today to get back on track, I’ll be trying your darker emotion visualization technique…it sounds “appealing,” and if it works, I’ll build on it slowly. Thank you, Jan.
I so relate, Julia. One thing I’m learning, also, is to practice self-compassion in situations such as you describe. It’s hard enough to go without writing; we don’t need to compound the insult by being hard on ourselves. Sharon Salzburg has meditations on lovingkindness and self-compassion, if you’re interested. Here’s hoping your life situation improves!
Ha! Pick seaweed from your hair, pull up your bikini bottoms, and carry on. That is so vivid, Jan. Thank you. And it fully expresses where I’ve been thrown at times.
Being relatively new (c’mon, 3 years is still new, right?) to this writing fiction on a daily basis, I still wander around in fog. That’s how I get derailed. And, now that I’ve moved onto revising Act 2, wondering what in the world I’m trying to do, I’ve found critique partners helpful for getting me back on track and reminding me of the story I’m trying to tell. Especially the partner who is published.
Detachment is so helpful. I’ve used it in my daytime profession, though at times less successful than others. But I’ve not thought about using it in reference to writing. Thank you for helping me make the connection between those dots.
Lisa B, I missed writing the part where you have to remove the sand from your swimsuit. ;)
Delighted if I helped.
You’ve done well if your critique group holds each other in faith and has a standard of gentle accountability. Keep on and see if that fog doesn’t dissipate.
A brilliant post and beautifully written. I found it helpful not only for dealing with my own Llama Drama, but for insight in writing characters. I especially love the suggestion to go for a walk and name objects and emotions objectively. Self-sabotage is something most of us succumb to at one time or another. So do our characters, especially if they are complex and nuanced. By exploring my own dark side, perhaps I’ll have greater insight into my character’s inner turmoil.
Thanks, Jan!
P.S. I loved the seaweed and bikini image too!
Rita, now that’s a positive mindset, and perfectly consistent with psychology, too.
The walking meditation sounds woo-woo-ish and ineffectual but I’ve found it really helps. Hope the same will be true for you.
I lost three hours of ‘the best writing I’ve ever done” last week, had a mini-flipout, then took to the woods for an hour. when I got back. I found the Nobel Prize-winning chapter and had a really good laugh. I mean, it was okay, but what my mind did to it while it was MIA was the amazing thing. A very wise friend once told me that “feelings aren’t facts.” I try to remember that when I’m in the weeds (progress here, not perfection). The other pearl comes from Seth Grodin (I think) about the Resistance being my friend. Its that friend who tells you your butt looks big in those jeans, but a friend nonetheless. Resistance is now my clue that I’m hitting on something electric, and that I should just get the shock over with and keep writing (or get some coffee). Wonderful post, Jan. I’m going to watch the video again now.
Susan, gosh your experience was close to mine, though I admire your ability to laugh. Well done.
A retreat into nature is always a wise way to deal with acute disappointment.
Seth Godin is preternaturally wise, isn’t he? What a great way to view Resistance.
Just what I needed today. I’m tweaking the first draft of my first book and I’m ready to start the long rewriting/revision process…but I keep procrastinating. I’ve been at it a year now, and I feel a bit disconnected. Scrubbing toilets and organizing Lego’s seems far more appealing. So, I’m giving myself permission, a few days grace, to let the crazy fall away. Find my bearings. Fall in love with my story again. And then get back to work. Thanks for the great article!
Anna-Marie, one known technique for ditching procrastination is to do a small cleaning job, especially if it involves decluttering. (Alas, I can’t provide the source; it eludes me at present.)
Wishing you luck as you return to your manuscript.
Jan-
When I hit a speed bump, such as a set of beta comments or just a broad daylight rereading of my own godawful midnight draft, I don’t take it as a failure but as a road sign: further to go, turn here.
Having more to do isn’t a failure. Having more to learn is a joy. Writing is the best thing ever. Every minute I steal to do it is a minute I am happy. It isn’t writing that sometimes gets me down, it’s the rest of life.
Hmm. Could that be my mistake? Maybe I should think of my day-to-day life as writing my own personal story? Maybe so. More to learn. Thanks, Jan.
I love that, Benjamin! You sound like a well-grounded man. Awesome.
Jan, when I have read your work, I’ve found beauty and depth in it. We all have our doubting moments. But I believe they are necessary to make the writing the best it can be. Recent comments by critique partners is making me face major changes in my novel. And I thought I was ready to query! I love the writing process, but it’s hard to keep postponing that goal. Maybe the writing itself will hold me for a while longer. I think so.
You’re very kind, Beth. Thank you.
When it’s disheartening to look at the forest view of a manuscript, we’re wise to return to the trees. I always tell myself I’m going to do the job anyway, so I might as well put my energy into the work rather than the resistance. Also, I’ve found most long tasks–like maintaining a three-decade marriage or going to med school–end up feeling shorter than I anticipated.
Practicing mindfulness to overcome the writing hump is a great suggestion. Derailment occurs for me when certain interactions with my (now 26 yr old) daughter turn into reactions followed by gut-wrenching worry. I find it difficult to sit down, clear my mind and write at those times.
Julie, my sympathies. What doesn’t help, yet is the first thing I often try, is to tell myself I must stop worrying and start writing. That’s a guarantee I’ll feel more miserable about my miserableness. :)
If you haven’t done, give journaling a try. Also, to deal with long-standing anxieties about other people, you might have a look at the material on the Byron Katie website. It’s cognitive therapy stripped down to the essentials and it’s free.
Drama Llama. I love it, Jan. You gave us so much good research to ponder. I have to check out the links and videos you provided. For me, what works best is stepping away when doubts creep into my brain, followed by diving back in. Stepping away from the work gives me distance and perspective. Diving back in allows me to finish what I started with a clear head. Of course, I have not validated this approach through research, but it works for me. Thanks for the great wisdom and good wishes from your neighbor to the south.
Chris, when you’re getting results, it doesn’t matter if you’re dealing with an n of 1. By all means carry on!
Thank you kindly. It’s election day today so I’m Twitterpated while I wait for the polls to close.
Yikes. I don’t even know who is running. I’m still trying to sort out the strange menagerie of candidates in the states. Hope your candidate wins!
Me too, thank you! This is a seminal election and the first time in a decade where my vote has a chance of making a difference.
Good wishes from your neighbor to the North.
Jan, I always learn so much I can use when I read your posts, not just about writing but about life! Recognizing emotions without being overcome by them is very hard for me to do in the moment. When I can’t get out of the writing derailment doldrums and I don’t have the luxury of a walk or time alone to meditate (I’m often writing or revising at the table when the kids are doing their homework), using music or a scent such as lavender can help me clear my mind.
I’m going to have to give that a try, Liz, because you’re so right; there are times we have to perform and don’t have the luxury of going for a walk, journaling, etc. With scent being closely linked to memory and emotion, I could see how you could make use of conditioning and use lavender to evoke a sense of calm.
Jan, This is a keeper post. Not only is it chock full of advice for arming against resistance in the never-ending battle of the page, it is full of advice for living a richer life. I’m off to download the recommended reads. Thank you.
B, I hope you enjoy them as much as I have. The Kabat-Zinn has been on my shelf for 20+ years. (Great title, huh?) And the McGonigal is a recent acquisition, but helpful nonetheless. Plus, it’s full of cool psychological experiments.
Last month I waited. I knew my submissions would garner me the praise I deserved. I checked my email inbox; I walked to the mailbox. Nothing.
And so I applied emotional logic. The result: nothing was happening because nothing would happen. I wasn’t… my writing wasn’t good enough. I wallowed in negative goo for a while. It was sticky and hard to shake free, but I finally did. I did because I choose to move on. I invested time and effort in my life outside writing. When I was ready to return, I began a new writing project. And I realized, yet again, that it all rests on me. My writing game is over when I say it is. There’s always a new writing project, a new publisher. The only thing I need to do is find it. And that’s the easy part. Oh, yes, and those other submissions are still out there. Waiting is easier when I know that they won’t make or break my career.
Thank you for your empowering post, Jan.
Leanne, McGonigal does a good job of explaining why our default is to assume the scary explanation is real. We retain a survival advantage if we’re skewed towards pessimism and fear.
But the only lion in the writing studio is the one in our imagination, so it’s great news that you worked it through on your own. And next time you might get there even faster.
My goodness, Jan! I feel instantly old and obsolete remembering the Llama Song! Reminds me of the Badger Song.
My Drama Llama rears its head quite a lot. I’d like to say for the most part it doesn’t get me down, but there are times where negativity and doubt hang over me like a cloud, despite creative breakthroughs and evidence of improvement in my writing. It’s just so easy to see all the negative in an art form where we are forever separated from perfection, when “mastery” is really about how far up the mountain we are in relation to other mountain climbers — many who are climbing different mountains than us and whose journey has no comparison to our own. It’s so easy to feel like a failure when you look up and all your see is how much higher you have to climb.
What about (to borrow your technique of countering Emotional Logic) looking down instead? When I feel like a failure and I stuff my face with chocolate even though I know I shouldn’t, I stop and think about how much better my writing is compared to how it was before. What really matters are the words on the page today and the act of coming back to push things ahead a little more. Instead of saying, “I’m not a failure,” I look at how much I’ve enjoyed the journey. Instead of thinking about how far short I am of the pre-orders I need (another writing-related aspect that triggers depression — since my debut is right now part of a crowdfunding model), I think about relationships made with readers and other writers. “I’m not going to make it where I need to be”, upon conversion = “It’s so wonderful that I’ve made more than 100 fans who I never would have made if I didn’t do what I’m doing now.”
Thanks for posting on this, Jan. I think it’s such a relevant topic for those of us who can define success often by our sense of progress, rather than appreciating the progress itself. Speaking of progress, time for a nice walk to clear my head and enjoy the cold Winnipeg air.
John, Lordy me, I had to look up the Badger Song. That was an experience. Heh.
The whole point of worry and pessimism, IMHO, is to anticipate genuine danger and takes step to avoid it. But once that’s been done, they become millstones around one’s neck–especially challenging when you’re hoping to climb a mountain.
And aren’t we humans good at discounting our accomplishments and how far we’ve come. If you’re interested, Cognitive Behavioral Therapy describes several thinking errors which tend to skew us that way. http://www.harleytherapy.co.uk/cognitive-distortions-cbt.htm
Thanks for that link, Jan! Boy, can I ever identify with “all or nothing” and “shoulds and oughts”. I had a friend once who always told me not to “should on myself”. Heh. :=)
I wrote the ultimate funny story about a young Marine who takes on one of the monsters of the world. It was hilarious. I couldn’t stop laughing. I told my family, friends, and other people who couldn’t stop me because we were all in the elevator together.
Then I re-read it. My publisher read it. Neither of us thought it was a funny as I thought it was. He decided to publish it.
The moral? Keep on going.
End of story.
Yes, Jim, even non-humorous stories have their worth.
Good advice, my friend, and deceptively simple. Thanks.
Hi, Jan:
A technique I found valuable was to personify the critical voice(s) in my head. This made them more like people with whom I could engage. “If it’s really that bad, how about helping to fix it?” The critic either withers away like a ghost of negativity or becomes a partner in the creative process.
Great post. I shared the llama song with my wife. She’s yet to report back. She’s a bit obsessive about llamas, though, so it could go either way.
David, that technique is actually one recommended by the “father” of Cognitive Behavioral Therapy. I attended a wonderful seminar with him in which he described how he helped a child stop soiling his pants. They made the condition an antagonist and called him Sneaky Poo.
And now, between the TMI nature of this response and the earworm nature of the Llama Song, I wonder if you’ll be willing to speak to me on the day we finally meet.
Jan, I’ve had some hitchhiker in my belly since I returned from an international trip weeks ago, and the boxing match it’s having with antibiotics has resulted in no victors. That stalemate has kept me from being able to give focused attention to my writing both for business and play, which has made me one lost pup, feeling like I won’t catch up to the work I haven’t been able to do.
But the knowing, abiding layer of me senses that whatever work is delayed won’t cause any real catastrophes, that I’ll sort out the real from the imagined fears and projections, and that it will be OK. Posts like yours help. Drama Llama, get a haircut.
Tom, darn it, I’m sorry you’re going through that. Drama Llama needs a haircut and a good, detangling conditioner, too! Hope you pull out of it soon.
Jan,
“Word!” (as some members of a younger generation which I’m unable to specifically identify say). My approach is to just keep working the scene until it sounds true, until it seems a reader would believe it to be true and would want to know what happens next. If it feels like that, I go with it and move on to the next scene, and tell the Drama Llama to go sit in the corner, occupy himself with something useful, and be quiet for as long as he can.
Great essay, by the way.
Best,
De Wayne
De Wayne, ‘ll copy a younger generation when commenting on your strategy to counter the Drama Llama: *fist bump*.
And thank you, kindly. Appreciate you taking time to comment.
Loved this post, Jan, but I must say, I got quite hooked on the picture. A llama sprawled in the street had me intrigued! I kept imagining some other llama off to the side saying, “play dead, play dead! They won’t notice you if you pretend your dead!” Gotta love it.
Now I’ll go for a walk. Apparently my head needs some major down time. :)
Hugs
Dee
Dee, you don’t need much of a prompt to get your imagination going, do you?
Enjoy the walk. When I’ve been at the computer too long, that’s my best medicine. xo
I’ve experienced more personal derailments that I want to admit, which in turn, prevented me from completing most writing projects. But, after years of dealing with such fiascos, I realized two things:
1. It’s not that life kept getting in my way. I kept letting life get in my way.
2. Writing is my best form of therapy. Whenever I feel depressed, writing in my
journal disintegrates that cloud lumbering over me.
My passion for writing began at an early age; that is, when most toddlers are just learning to read. So, there’s always been something in my biological makeup that compels me to seek no other livelihood.
Alejandro, as long as your #1 stays at the level of problem-solving and doesn’t turn into self-blame, I think that’s an excellent attitude. As for your #2, exactly! I don’t know what I’d do without my journal.
Most of us begin as youngsters. I wonder if they’ll identify a writing/creativity gene someday.
It seems like the mindset is incredibly important when writing – more so than I thought it could be. I am going to have to bear that in mind for the future…
Olivia-Savannah, there’s no law saying you have to become insecure. :) But *if you should* at some future date, know you’re in good company!