I am lucky enough to find myself part of a small group of writers, lead by Sarah McColl, that meets monthly on Zoom to talk about our writing/not writing/impediments to writing i.e. LIFE, kids, financial worries, and so on. We share work and offer feedback. And in between our monthly sessions, Sarah invited us, almost a year ago now, to keep our conversation going via what we call our Group Diary. It’s a really special document, and it’s a private space, but I am sharing today with permission an entry I made in the diary last week and two entries made in response to my own, by Sarah and Lesley. Their bios, and links to their work, are at the end.
September 9, 2023
HELEN: I feel compelled to come here and write to you all today because I’ve been working really hard this last week or so on my book, determined to finally get it fucking finished, and there’s something “off” about my energy…I think I need a sense-check. Does anyone else feel kind of filled with a nervous energy when they’re working on their writing ‘for real’, i.e. not shitting around anymore and actually trying, i.e. taking yourself seriously for once? Maybe it’s just me, but I’ve been so jittery since I started this latest round of solid work on the book, a bit manic. I’ve been trying to figure out why or what the energy is trying to tell me. I think it’s partly genuine anxiety that I won’t be able to do it, that I still haven’t figured out how to get to the end of this thing I’m trying to write, that I might never do it, and I’m just waiting for THAT PART in the book, the part I haven’t been able to work through in the past, where I always trip and stop. Some days I feel confident I’ll be able to do it and other days I’m like, no, it’s too messy to be fixed. I’m working like crazy to get to that scary point and pass through it. I’m not there yet, but it’s close. This morning I worked for hours after Elliott went to school, and I still wasn’t dressed by the time it was time to go pick him up. I wish I wasn’t so all-or-nothing. I’ve stopped cleaning my house! I’m going to burn out and give up, at this rate. It reminds me of running: on a really long run, you’re supposed to go slow and keep your heart-rate low so you don’t flame out early. I feel frustrated during those runs because all I want to do is go fast and get it finished. But of course every time I do that I feel like I’m going to have a heart attack so I have to stop and walk. My heart literally forces me to follow the program. I wish it worked that way for my writing too. Slow and steady, the oldest lesson in the book. I’m too impatient to ever learn it properly.
The part of my brain that thinks of myself as essentially wrong or broken pipes up here and says “you’re actually unwell and crazy and none of this work is real, you won’t actually finish - nobody else feels this because you are uniquely messed up! Haha!” Is there a name for the voice that represents our deepest-rooted self-esteem issues? Mine is very insistent, she speaks my language, she sounds very much like me.
Anyway. I needed to get that off my chest, and you all are wonderful and supportive. I hope you’re all doing well and that temperatures have cooled where you are (high of 80 here today! Woo!).
SARAH 9/21: Helen, I will think about your questions while I’m making dinner. I can’t wait to light a candle later tonight, when the house is still again, and respond. ❤️
9/22: So, I’ve given an extra 24 hours thought to this because I think at least part of what you’re describing is, for me, a longed-for state. The not getting dressed, book world is realer than real world, consumed by it feeling, of really being IN it. That, to me, is a high point in the process. It’s neither balanced nor sustainable, but I love its intensity, however brief. I was going to say it was like a love affair, and then I deleted it, but now I think that was right. Because at the root of the jittery manic feeling of being absolutely fucking crazy about someone is fear: that it will end, that they’ll break our hearts, that they don’t feel the same, and we’ll be out here on this fucking limb by ourselves and it’s a long way down. So. I wonder if that’s part of what the energy is about. Because equally scary, if not scarier, than what if you can’t work through that same old part is what if you can? Then you’re confronted with a different set of circumstances—a finished book—rather than the familiar, known unfinished one.
I drove home from my Weds night writing date after I wrote that and listened to one of the more out-there podcasts I listen to, but somehow, the witchy autumnal season and the topic of Protection Magic felt resonant to your diary entry. Maybe something to listen to on a long run.
LESLEY (9/25): Feeling rejuvenated after reading these recent entries. Helen, I have these same jitters and I’ve wondered about mine too. I’ve decided that I’m either a) fearful about whether I have anything important to say or b) swept up in the pressure of “finishing” something because then I will be seen for the fraud that Pamela tells me I am. I’ve been working really hard lately on taking things slowly, putting zero pressure on myself, remembering that writing is playing and who the hell cares if I don’t know where it’s going. Some days this works and I feel fantastic. Other days, like today, I’m poking at something uncomfortable and the whole process is unsettling. I try to stop myself from the idea that “I’m doing something wrong” though – this is just what comes up. It’s hard to sit in discomfort. Separately I’ve decided I want to work on my confidence, thinking that maybe this will help the “I don’t think I can deliver” sorts of feelings. For me this means being more public with my work — reading it out loud, sharing it with people, performing it (!), but also doing other types of performances like singing or dancing where I’m visible and I’m able to be seen without fear. Writing riskier work has helped too, as far as helping my body/nervous system become more familiar with the fear that bubbles up when I’m pushing against something important. Helen, I think you are kicking ass in moving forward with your project. Re: all or nothing, this is all data points, right? You may decide this doesn’t work for you eventually. But right now it does, because at the very least it’s giving you an opportunity to move closer to the part of the work that’s scaring you the most. Sending good vibes that you will dig your way to the other side.
Lesley Téllez is a food writer, journalist, and novelist based in Mexico City. She writes the newsletter All the Reasons Not to Write.
Sarah McColl is the author of the memoir Joy Enough, and the monthly newsletter Lost Art. She teaches creative writing and helps other authors in extraordinary ways - if you’re feeling stuck in your writing, please reach out to Sarah. You won’t regret it.