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| Photo by Wayne Bishop image courtesy of unsplash.com |
The break was also supposed to be a chance for me, among other things, to build up a cache of new material and free me from a cycle of same-day composition I’d fallen into since the holidays. While I did manage to plot out the next month or so of essays (those seem to write themselves if I just give it time), stories and comics were less forthcoming than I’d liked. It’s a well-documented claim on this blog that ideas cannot be forced. I didn’t try to force any ideas into being, I tried to rest and be patient for them to turn up, and while some did, they were not in the numbers or of the quality that I had hoped for. Instead of working eagerly and producing a month’s worth of material or more in a few weeks, I have three or four half-ideas and a larger project that I may or may not ever have time to start, much less finish. Encouraging, and far from “I have no ideas and am barely posting this on time,” but again, not as prolific on the ground as my dreams had been while still in the air.
But this really just nudged at a bigger issue, hitherto unaddressed, or not addressed directly, which both caused the break to happen and made it difficult to put the break to the best purpose I could. That issue is the general topic of this return post.
This is supposed to be a blog about storytelling, a big part of which for me is writing, and I’m always a little wary about trying to write blog posts about writing blog posts, because they’re already supposed to be about writing. But apparently the way forward for us on this journey of unsolvable problems leads next directly through just such a thorn patch, so bear with me while I try to write about writing about writing, and then we can move on.
One of the tricky things about being me, apparently, is that I have an unusual capacity for getting bored. Everyone can get bored with doing nothing; you get stuck in a waiting room, or at a bus stop, and you wish you were somewhere or anywhere else, you wish there was something to do. Pocket computers have probably made this less of a thing now for most of us, we have our people and programs with us wherever we are, but I’m sure we all know what it’s like to get bored because there’s nothing interesting going on.
In addition to this ordinary sort of boredom, I have the additional ability, nay talent, to get bored with things that do interest me, if I pursue them long enough. I get going on a project, I get about halfway done, or more than halfway, and suddenly all my interest deserts me. Going back to that project, instead of doing something else, or ANYTHING else, feels a little like going to prison.
Even if the thing I get bored with is something I really enjoy doing. When this happens, one feels incredibly lame. I like doing this stuff, but suddenly I’d rather not be doing it, please for the name of all that’s sacred don’t make me do it more. What’s the deal?
It’s probably something everyone who tries to work creatively struggles with, come to think of it; I haven’t read into the matter extensively.
It’s not exactly writer’s block. To me writer’s block feels more like you’ve got something to get out of you, something to say, but can’t find out what it is.
When this sort of boredom strikes, there are still ideas there, if I have the moxie to go out and bring them down to earth. The trouble is that the moxie goes somewhere, I don’t know where.
It’s not really anhedonia, I don’t think. Anhedonia is basically when things that used to make you happy or bring you pleasure don’t do that for you anymore. It’s generally seen as a symptom of acute or chronic depression, and I imagine it’s pretty lousy. It certainly could be anhedonia that I’m experiencing, I wouldn’t really have a frame of reference to tell if apart from anything else, but for two reasons I doubt it.
First, the boredom generally goes away if I start doing the same kind of thing, say writing, or drawing, or reading, but I do it with a different set of content than what I’ve gotten bored with. I’m working on a drawing, or a series of drawings, and I lose interest. But I think about another idea and try that out, and I generally feel interested again, if it’s different enough.
Second, and I am obviously not an expert on psychology or of psychological terms, but the weird thing about this brand of boredom is that I basically catch it sooner or later no matter what I do. Every project, every scheme of mine, which takes more than a day, a week (a month and a half seems to be the upper limit so far) to carry out sooner or later suffers the same death by attrition of energy.
This blog, when I started it, was supposed to be (among other things) an exercise in resisting the boredom for as long as possible. No matter what, if I’m to be a professional and to maintain my integrity as a writer, posts must continue to go up on time. And for longer than I’d expected I managed to keep it up. I’ve succeeded at creating new habits before (positive ones I mean, like keeping a daily journal and shaving regularly), and I hoped to make this blog one of them, and had better success than none.
Yet when it started I had a few weeks ready, and by the time October rolled around I was creating stuff only a few days in advance, in November I started posting next-day (that was for NaNo, and its effect on the blog is a whole ‘nother post). And then December and all that comes with it hit like a glittering golden ball of happiness and doom, and in early January I took a break. I’ve been struggling to recover my moxie, to bully myself back into my work chair to churn out some advance material, ever since.
Where was I going wrong? Whence this apathy for projects which clearly are very important to me?
This puzzled me for a number of days. I was eager to, once and for all, pin down a cause for this listlessness and un-enthusiasm, thinking basically that if I could find a way to cure it, I could do anything. I would be unstoppable! Or at least I could maintain my enthusiasm for projects for long enough to get them finished, instead of walking away every time. In retrospect, this hope seemed as optimistic, and about as practical, as thinking I could learn to levitate by finding out the source of gravity and curing that, too.
As with almost all things, when I determined an answer, I realized it wasn’t what I wanted to hear, and what’s worse, that it was probably workable, but not in a way that can be conveniently or speedily done.
Why do I start projects in the first place? How do I feel when I start them, when the ideas are rushing, and the hours fly by, and there doesn’t seem to be enough time to stop working on them and do anything else? Well, it feels like what I just said. It is an all-absorbing level of interest. I am unable to stop myself from thinking of the project, even when I’m not working on it. In other words, when I get going with a new project, I’m a little bit obsessed.
The problem with relying on obsession for your source of energy is that it can’t last. That level of dedication isn’t powered by keeping to a set schedule, or by looking ahead to the long-term effects of keeping up a pace of activity best described as “frenzy,” or, critically, by interest in getting the project done. It’s not a results-based
And it’s awesome. The only real problem with it is that it doesn’t last. If you rely only on obsessive energy in order to get things done, you will forever be at the mercy of whatever part of your brain decides what you’re obsessed with at the moment, and if you’re trying to make long-term results happen, you’ll find that that almost never changes on a schedule that’s convenient for you.
So the answer is to pace myself.
Instead of relying on not being bored to get it done, I will give as much voluntary will to the project as I can. My focus will change to seeking a balance between this and other projects. Most of all I have to look for a sense of habit and consistency in getting the work done and well done, without either feeling like this is the only thing that matters, or that because it doesn’t interest one thousand percent of my brain it’s not worth doing.
Long post short, too late, starting this week This Problem’s Unsolvable will have three posts a week and not five, either until three posts proves to be the pace that works best, or until it seems clear that more or fewer posts are needed to do the job right. One essay, focusing on being clear and concise, one comic, one story.
Of course if I get more ideas or something comes up that deserves extra attention I’m at liberty to do extra work as well. The important thing is just showing up.
As usual, thanks for reading. I’m looking forward to finding out how things will go for this project, and I appreciate your showing up to take the journey with me.
What’s next?
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