On Failing to Write (during a Global Climate Crisis)
9/17/20 SE Glisan - Smoke dense like fog in the street
Trust me when I say that missing this week’s blog post plagued my mind every single day I wasn’t writing it. I saw the week come through the door and just kind of… stepped to the side and let it pass. The real secret is: I missed the week before too. I’d written two articles at the end of August, which saved me from missing two weeks in a row. The buffer is essential; things go sideways from time to time. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t dwell on it.
An uncharacteristically violent windstorm. A thick layer of smoke from massive forest fires. A jaundiced sky. A pink sun (again). Eleven days of hazardous air quality. Not unhealthy, not bad, but hazardous, pushed Portland (and most of Oregon) even further indoors. A million people were evacuated from their homes.
From the beginning of the global pandemic, we’ve been indoors. We go for walks in the evening; I go for a walk in the morning. We’ve been exploring a little more, but for the most part we stay inside. Livestream concerts and art shows. Lots of Netflix and Hulu and Prime and whatever else we can find. Lots of reading and writing (but mostly reality TV if we’re being honest). 110 movies this year, so far. Up already from last year with an entire quarter to go.
But in isolation, things were starting to feel regular. Not normal, but regular. There were comfortable patterns emerging. Over the hump of coming home every night and not leaving again until work hours, there was at least something. We had a problem, we got through it, we had another problem.
All of this is to say: I have a lot of excuses not to write.
But that doesn’t mean I didn’t think about it. I started to re-read the next book in the series for Books on Writing 101, and have continued to read one of the books for Books on Writing 201. But I failed to write anything. I finished an article, which was trashed recently. I wrote a section of the fiction I’ve been working on. But nothing for the blog. Nothing for the deadline. Or the schedule. Or the personal. And that sucks.
Some people can produce during a crisis. Some people produce more, or maybe only slightly less. There’s reflection in everything, which is a reason to write. A triggering event brings reflection and deep work. Write it down, share it. Give it a name, try to sell it. It’s part of the process.
A while ago I started working on The Artist’s Way, which I don’t fully endorse if I’m being honest. It’s a good first step if you want to start thinking about deeper work and if you’re really stuck somewhere. But there’s better advice out there now. One thing I’ve really taken to, though, is Morning Pages. Every morning, right when I get up (mostly), I write three longhand pages in a notebook. No topic, just write. Everything in my mind. It’s a meditation, it’s a clarity exercise, and it helps.
Some mornings turned into Afternoon Pages, and once Evening Pages. But I try not to miss an entire day. Yesterday, I never even thought about Morning Pages. At the end of the day, when I looked back at everything I did at work, and at home, and in the morning, I didn’t have an excuse. I just didn’t feel like writing anything. I didn’t feel like reflecting. I failed to write. Again.
Another tool in The Artist’s Way is The Artist Date, which is when you take yourself out on a date to a form of art you really enjoy. I talked in one of the first blog entries about this, in slightly different terms: You have to keep watering the plant. Refill your creative inspiration by consuming art you love. This had been - pre-pandemic, pre-climate emergency, pre-protests - something I practiced often. For the podcast, we went to a lot of shows and events that were really inspiring. New artists, weird artists, young and hungry and fresh and cool and magnificent artists doing their best, and most inspiring, work. I miss that.
One piece of art we saw recently was Crystal Quartez’s “Springs", which you can still view as part of the Time-Based Art festival 2020 (passes are free). This helped. It was so far outside of something I could create, and done in a way that was almost magical, almost completely surreal, that it consumed me for thirty minutes. Nothing else was around. It reminded me that I missed seeing art. In person. Not on a computer in my apartment.
I have to refill my creative glass often. I have to remind myself to refill my creative glass often. But it’s hard when there are so many different crises to pay attention to.
So for me, here is a list of things to do:
Write Morning Pages daily.
Once a week, take some time to go on an Artist Date (this could mean: read a pleasurable book, watch a livestream, etc.).
Dissect a piece of story (TV show, movie, book, short story, whatever) - consume it a few times, write down the beats, analyze what makes it good or bad.
Consume a piece of media just for the pleasure of it. Turn the brain off. Don’t analyze. Just listen or watch or read blindly.
Be gentle with myself when I fail to write anything.