Link
Jami Attenberg's advice for starting a new project, making a choice, and tending to your creative self
0 notes
Text
On Time or the Lack of it
By Toby Litt
The last few entries have perhaps seemed to assume that we all have lots of time to write.
Or rather, to do things other than write (copy, translate) that would in the long run help us become better writers.
The fear being that there is no long run, because all the time we’re losing by doing things other than write our own stuff adds up to us never writing, not being a writer and dying unfulfilled.
That escalation happens pretty quickly, doesn’t it?
I lose a day; I am a failure.
Perhaps the Christmas holidays have given me a sense that there’s more time available than there really is, for any of us.
My advice for when it feels like there’s not enough time is to make sure the work you try to do is do-able, and always to do something.
Far better to concentrate on short forms, by which I mean as short as a sentence, than to try to assemble a novel during broken, panicked moments.
This was what Raymond Carver says in ‘On Writing’.
My attention span had gone out on me; I no longer had the patience to try to write novels. It's an involved story, too tedious to talk about here. But I know it has much to do now with why I write poems and short stories.
The important words are attention and concentrate.
Nothing comes through more directly to the reader than rush. They hear the hyperventilation, they sense the writer’s eyes flicking away from the page and towards the clock.
Better to write one sound sentence that rings than a hundred that go tink when you tap them with your fingernail.
When I’ve got time, I’ll give some examples of this.
0 notes
Text
A Writer’s Diary by Toby Litt
On Not Writing
Isn’t it always better to write something rather than nothing?
JAN 7 2024
This morning I thought for some time about not writing.
Initially, it was just about spending the cold sunny hour reading instead of working on the novel. (Which is what I ended up doing.) But soon it turned into another question, broader, scarier.
Maybe I should take Sunday off every week, rather than seeing it as a chance to do rather more writing than I get done on the average Wednesday?
Or maybe, I should stop writing for a month or a year, because — in the longest run — that might be the best thing I could do to get better as a writer?
One of the books I’ve been reading recently (after seeing the great show at Tate Modern) is Philip Guston’s I Paint What I Want To See.
In conversation with the American poet Clark Coolidge, Guston says:
..art is the frustration of the desire not to make art, you know?
Although I agree with this, it’s not a statement I empathise with. My desire, it’s long been clear, is to make art of some sort all the bloody time. Just scribble some notes. Half a page.
Sundays. Christmas Days. Hospital waiting rooms.
With other forms of learning, there’s the chance for the artist to stand back and judge their effect. To compare one period with another.
I got a lot from copying Moby Dick by hand, say. It was a better use of my time than just reading it, or writing another short story. Or at least, that’s how it feels.
With not writing, as a way of productively lying fallow, of allowing deeply buried objects to surface, you’re never going to be sure.
Couldn’t you have just kept going? Isn’t it always better to write something rather than nothing?
Writers are said to be ‘blocked’, as if their blockage was what blues singer Robert Johnson called ‘stones in my passway’ — a painful obstruction, either medical or in the road they hoped to drive.
The ideal, it seems, is to be regular and free flowing.
A few years ago, I’ve forgotten where, I read someone talking about making art. They gave this advice, Don’t treat yourself like a factory.
Yes, I thought, but also, Don’t treat yourself like a museum.
I spent the morning reading, but then I wrote this, and now I’m going to have a very quick look at the novel.
I’ll try not writing another time.
Or maybe I won’t. Too scary.
1 note
·
View note