Truth emerging from her well: on creativity and accountability
Notes from the writer's diary - part eight
This post is part of a series in which I want to be completely open, honest and authentic about the process of writing books, the life of the professional author; the sacrifices, the frustrations, the joys, the privilege, the pain. Some of these diary entries will be without a paywall, some of them will be with a paywall, because being a writer is how I make my living.
Work Notes
For paid subscribers of Notes from the Margin in January:
Portrait of an Unknown Woman - A Zoom Writing Workshop
Join me in January for a 1.5 hour zoom workshop in which we’ll explore the background and symbolism in Marcus Gheeraerts the Younger’s 16th century painting ‘Portrait of a Woman’. Suitable for all levels of writer in any genre, this prompt based workshop will spark ideas around anonymity, symbolism, Elizabethan culture and the art of portraiture.
Portrait of an Unknown Woman - writing workshop
Thursday 15th January
6pm - 7.30pm UK Time
zoom links sent out the day before.
Buy My Books
Buy my nature-landscape memoir The Ghost Lake Here.
Buy my latest poetry collection, Blackbird Singing at DuskHere.
Thanks!
To all the paid subscribers who are still here. I know January is a month for reflection and reevaluation, and times are tough, everyone is facing the financial squeeze in one way or another. I do not resent anyone who has to leave, but it means the world to me to know that you are still here navigating the writer world alongside me.
What happened when I stopped writing altogether?
Last year was almost entirely dominated by my mum’s cancer. First the diagnosis, then the radiation therapy and the effects the treatment had on her quite severe autoimmune conditions, then the brief, brief respite - a whole six weeks when we were told she’d got the all clear, before another scan showed that in fact the cancer had spread and she had moved from stage three to stage four and a terminal diagnosis. This absolute blow followed by the first palliative chemo which she had a serious reaction to, then collapses, attempted ambulances (a four hour delay meant trying to get her to hospital myself) hospital admissions, staying over at her house to care for her… I won’t go on, but as you can imagine, living on high alert and in a constant state of anxiety and grief is not conducive to writing. I feel like I did barely any writing while all this was going on, however, last year was also when I committed to the new book, a literary historical fiction novel, and it was the year I was awarded a Folger Shakespeare Library Fellowship for research on the book. When I look back on the year I can see that something changed in the way that I write. There was less rushing. I inched forward with the book, and I made friends with other novelists and found my feet and my confidence in another genre.
My mum’s had a break from chemo and regained her strength a little. She now feels well enough to try palliative chemo number two. The rollercoaster is shuddering out of the station again. I have no idea what the year ahead holds, but this is what I am doing to help myself continue to write and achieve my goals.
Reader, I stopped writing. I couldn’t even bring myself to write in my diary.
Do you remember my plan to take January as a retreat month?
Well, that didn’t happen. But I did try and take December as a retreat month and also that didn’t happen. I was being slightly over ambitious. But I have found that being over ambitious often means you end up with something half way to what you were aiming for. I managed to set some firm boundaries around the Christmas break, and I took two weeks off. This is unheard of for me. I even made the decision not to post on substack, which made me feel sick with anxiety. I don’t think I have missed posting on substack in the very nearly three years since I began posting weekly.
I did not write. Not even my diary.
On Christmas Day afternoon, once the guests had left, I crawled under a blanket and barely emerged again for a week. I read. I dived fully into book after book, the deep, deliciousness of disappearing into another world. I did not post on social media. I mostly didn’t check my accounts at all.
The world didn’t end.
I lost subscribers, plenty of them, (waves sadly at their retreating backs) but I was willing to sacrifice that loss for pure rest and the nourishment of being a reader rather than a writer. I did not plug my books, I did not formulate social media plans, or apply for anything, or answer emails, or submit anything or plan a new-year new me. I just drifted. No To Do list, no alarm, nothing but nothing. I don’t think I’ve ever done that, or rarely.
When I began to prepare myself to come back to work I began to check into social media and interact more. Lots of people, lots of writers, had already gone back to work and jumped on the posting treadmill and my immediate feelings were of dread, of missing out, of being left behind of being not good enough because I was still in my blanket fort with my books and not running with the pack. Interspersed with all of the new courses on offer, workshops, events, subscription plans, posts and book news was the actual news in which it seems the world is already on fire.
Truth, emerge from your well and chastise us with your whip. I can’t cope with the corruption in the world right now, the lies and the greed and hatred and fear.
The thing is, someone is always going to be doing something different to you. That doesn’t mean that they are doing something better than you. You can’t win at everything, you have to choose the goals that are most important to you and prioritise them. Do you want to be a substack writer or do you want to write books and have substack as a place for community? Do you want to be an instagram star or do you want to be a writer of books. You can do all of it to a certain extent, but you can’t be the best at all of it. You have to listen to the authenticity, the gut feeling, about the things that brings you the most joy - and joy doesn't;’t equate to easiness, writing is hard, writing is challenging and that is the joy of it - and go with that.
What I’m trying to say is, don’t spread yourself too thin and lose the integrity of the world you really want to create. Don’t ruin your work because you felt you were being left behind.
I think social media is bad for writers, but it is also a necessary evil if you are still building a career. What a double edged sword to slice your writerly throat on. I know that for me, personally, the endless doom scrolling, the compulsive doom scrolling saps my energy and brings down my mood and wastes hours and hours of time in which I could be writing. It’s like I need to confirm to the imposter syndrome that I am not good enough by making sure I am aware of what every other writer on the planet is doing, and that I am failing because I am not keeping up. I know this and have had this reiterated while I have been off work, because when I am not on social media, I have more confidence in my work. When I am blinkered to just the world around me, the sky outside the window, my laptop and the bare minimum of checking into socials, I am completely happy with the way I work, and mostly confident in my own abilities.
How to reduce imposter syndrome, how to avoid the fear of missing out. It’s a mystery, a mystery I tell you.
Truth, emerge from your well. Turn the mirror to me so that I can see myself sitting, laptop open to my word doc, phone in hand, frown on face, scrolling, scrolling, scrolling. Chastise me with your whip. I need a good flaying to take some accountability for my actions.
Goal Setting
My only goal this year is to trust myself. To trust myself as a writer. To trust myself enough to put the time into writing instead of into keeping up with the pack. To trust my gut instinct, to trust my ability and to trust that career momentum won’t be lost if something takes time. To trust myself to be more off line and more in my work.
I am not committing to finishing this novel this year. Instead I’m committing to doing a thorough job on it, I’m committing to putting the work in and the development of skill and self to get this novel to be as close to being what I imagine it can be as possible. I do think I will finish the novel this year, by the way, but that’s not my focus. My focus is on the quality of the work, the experience of writing it, the journey of discovery that it is proving to be both from a research perspective and from a writing perspective.
My goal is to enjoy the process, not to push as fast as I can to the point of completion.
My goal is to check myself - every time I moan about not having enough time to write, to ask myself if I have been doom scrolling, if I have wasted an hour of writing time watching reels of cats. (this is a valid waste of time, by the way, we need reels of cats, but not during writing time, Wendy.)
My goal is to take accountability for my writing, and my writing time, and to trust myself to put my writing first.
What are your writerly goals this year? How do you feel about social media? How does imposter syndrome impact your writing? Let me know in the comments.
Until next time
x
What a year it's been for you, Wendy. I'm so glad you can cut yourself some slack, and that retreat under blankets to read has to be admired. Well done. Here's to us and our novel writing this year. All power to our pens, but only when we have time time and energy. Sending my very best to you and your mum as you navigate another tricky year, supporting her and her cancer.
I found your words so inspiring. I had a similar experience seeing my dad through radiotherapy this year. I am lucky that he is now in remission. But I am so burned out and I totally understand what you mean about being on high alert. You are doing so well to keep writing through all this, however slowly. I sincerely hope you get your break and time for fun and nourishing activities. You have healing to do, too. X