It’s almost midnight, and I’m sitting in the dark with my laptop, music on and earbuds in, my husband falling asleep in bed next to me. This is what so much of my writing life has looked like over the past decade. I imagine this is what much of it will look like in the decades to come, too.
But of course, there have been changes over the years. Big ones. For example, my husband wasn’t always my husband, and we didn’t always live in this house, and hey, when did this baby monitor become a permanent fixture on my night stand? (Answer: about nine months ago.)
Sometimes it feels like I’ve always been looking for a better way. Looking ahead to a time where writing will rule the day, instead of sneaking in with the moonlight. I remember when I was a teenager, imagining how great it would be when I got to college and could specialize in writing, instead of having to spend so much time on homework for other subjects. And then in college, dreaming of graduation and life as a “real” adult, when I could work a mindless job just to pay the bills so I could focus on my novels. And then at work, wishing there were some way to quit my job and write full-time.
And then do you know what happened? I did quit my job to write full-time, and I still dreamed of a day when I would write more. More more more. Faster. Better. Quicker. Smarter. More.
To be honest, I don’t know if that desire will ever go away. But I try not to let it take over. Because if I pursue Faster Better Quicker Smarter More More More, I will never be able to rest. There is always more More.
Instead, I try to keep hold of something I discovered about two or three years into writing full-time: I can live the writing life that I want, right now. It doesn’t have to exist only in a faraway future. In fact, in some ways I’ve been living that writing life all along.
I remember when I was fifteen, staying up late to work on my entry for a Scholastic contest, typing bleary-eyed until 5 or 6 AM. And as a college senior, scrambling to come up with ten new pages of a novel each week, emailing them to my thesis advisor just before deadline. And finally as a “real” adult, getting ready for bed, making myself a mug of green tea, and then sitting down to work in my pajamas, drafting until I was too tired to think, accompanied into the long hours of the night by only the light of my laptop.
To be clear: I am not suggesting that procrastination, pressure, and late nights are good elements for a writing life. Just noting that they are, for better or worse, part of mine.
And as much as I have daydreamed of a “better” way, the truth is, I wake up happy. Sometimes dry-mouthed and bone-weary, but happy nevertheless. I enjoy being a night owl. I like the peace of the midnight hours. I like how the whole world seems to revolve around the words in front of me when everything else is dark. I like sorting through my thoughts and feelings after a long day, my mind churning quietly like the wake of a ship.
Maybe this isn’t my perfect writing life… But after so many years, there is clearly a pattern, and I have always been more productive and more content when I embrace it.
One of my biggest realizations was that being a bestseller or being rich wasn’t going to change this for me. My daily life is more or less the same as it will be after I get my first book deal, or my fifth, or my fifteenth.
There’s room for improvement, to be sure. But you can improve yourself without rejecting yourself. Carve neither against the grain, nor along it, but rather across it. Work patiently to shape what’s already there, rather than wishing for something else.
A second big realization for me — which I purposely have not spelled out until this point— is that writing life and process are two intertwined but separate things. How you write (all day, all night, in sips, in gulps) is not the same as how you write (plotter, pantser, anything-in-betweener). It’s all connected in some strange, beautiful equation… But writing isn’t math. There’s no right answer. No wrong one, either.
What patterns do you see in your writing habits from over the years? What can you build on? Are there any changes you want to make?
About Kristan Hoffman
Originally from Houston, TX, Kristan Hoffman studied creative writing at Carnegie Mellon University and later attended the Kenyon Review Writers Workshop. Now she lives with her family in Cincinnati, OH, where she writes both fiction and nonfiction with a focus on feminist, multicultural stories. Her words have appeared in the New York Times, Switchback, and the Citron Review, among others. She is currently at work on a Young Adult novel, and is represented by Tina Dubois of ICM. For more, please visit her website.
Lovely post. You make me want to stay up late.
For me, writing is a first thing, a coffee and still-dreaming time. I love my work, it will consume me, so I write first. With a few pages done, my day is already a success.
The hard part for me is making mental space Into which story events, plot, can flow. That seems to happen at odd moments throughout the day, when I stop thinking. If I plan to plot it’s no good. If I am without a goal, though, all is possible.
“With a few pages done, my day is already a success.”
And you make me want to be a morning writer, hehe.
I agree, getting into the right mental space is hard. I think going for a walk and taking a shower often work, because like you said, you are “without a goal” (at least for your writing). You’re open and off-guard.
I can often get into a decent story mindset if I “butt in chair” for at least 20 minutes, though!
Gosh, Kristan – we’ve been meeting at the WU water cooler for so long (though you were here first), I feel like I’ve been alongside you through almost all of the changes and stages you describe. Which is pretty cool when you think about it. Another reason to be grateful for WU, right?
I really love this essay. It speaks to living in the now, and appreciating our charmed lives. And they are charmed. I mean, after all, we’ve found our passion. The realizations that you describe awaken my recurring realization: that the passion really is found in the pursuit, not in any sort of destination. We’re already there.
Of course there are destinations – waypoints that we should acknowledge. And I’m not just talking about publishing successes or awards, etc. I recently had a fun opportunity just to recognize the climb. A longtime critique partner of mine is traveling cross-country with his family, and they spent the night at the house (a waypoint!). After the kids went to bed, we had the opportunity to sit and talk writing over a glass of wine. I was describing how I’d recently gotten back to my WIP after taking a couple of weeks off. I told him that I was rereading to regain immersion, and that I found myself thinking it was pretty damn good for a first draft. He said, “Of course it is. You’re a better writer. You’ve gotten good at this.”
Simple praise, really. But from someone who knows writing, and has seen mine over quite a long stretch, so it means a lot to me. It’s difficult to see – and to acknowledge – our increasing competence. In some ways, the struggle when I sit down and try to get a scene right is as fresh as it was on the first days of the first draft of the first WIP. I think that’s a good thing. It keeps the challenge alive. But we also need to acknowledge the climb – to stop and take in the view – to appreciate the here and now of our charmed lives. Thanks for this wonderful reminder, Kristan.
“The passion really is found in the pursuit, not in any sort of destination. We’re already there.”
“It’s difficult to see – and to acknowledge – our increasing competence.”
Yes and yes! Well said.
And goodness, yes, “meeting” you through WU has been such a pleasure. :)
“Work patiently to shape what’s already there, rather than wishing for something else.”
This is lovely, life-giving advice. A good reminder for those of us who are never truly content with how things are right now.
Important reminders! Thank you, Kristan. Have you read Faith Wilding’s poem “Waiting”? It, too, reminds me not to get so absorbed in what’s ahead that I forget to appreciate this life I’m in. I spent a lot of time when younger imagining what my perfect life would be like. That helped me set goals and make choices, but I also think you’re right that it’s all been perfect. Different, but just fine.
http://faithwilding.refugia.net/waitingpoem.pdf
Whoa, what a poem. A whole life lived in those lines. A whole life of waiting…
Thank you for sharing!
I’m building on creating beneficial patterns and habits. Those two elude me quite often.
Hah! You might have more than you think… ;)
Lovely post. Congratulations on becoming a writer-mama. That is all I know and it’s been wonderful. I remember the nights when my kiddos were little; pjs meant time to write. I still put in a night shift once in a while when I can’t stop writing. There is something sweet about those wee hours when there are zero distractions. Even if a distracting thought appears, I say, “demain” and it’s gone.
Here a post from a friend of mine and now she’s writing with six! http://faithehough.blogspot.com/#!/2014/08/how-to-be-writer-mama-things-i-wish-id.html
Thank you! My little girl is so wonderful, it’s a joy to be her mother.
Six, though?! Whew, I applaud your friend. And thanks for sharing her post. I really appreciated the wisdom and humor. :)