I can’t write — moving on from myths
Odd fish chronicles II — I Can’t write: moving on from myths is a series about my experiences
How it started
I know I can’t write. Not only do I have my own years of struggling to write to remember but it's been written down by an expert. An Educational Psychologist no less. When I was 30, I was diagnosed with dyslexia and dyspraxia. My report notes “significant underachievement” in writing skills. The area of writing speed in particular falls way below the “average” (in orange in the chart below). The report goes on “Although Elizabeth has developed some compensatory strategies and coping mechanisms many of these are unlikely to be sufficient”.
Ouch.
This report was handed to me when I was eight months pregnant. I just put it on a stack of papers and I picked it up again as I was about to return from maternity leave. I’m not sure if my confidence had ever been lower about anything as I battled postnatal depression, and the report made me wonder if returning to work — where a core part of my role was writing research findings — was worth even attempting.
That I struggled more than others to write was a core part of my experience at work. This report confirmed it. I can’t write. This belief still follows me into every role.
But heres the thing.
You are reading a blog I have written. In fact, you are one of nearly 2000 readers of my blog series. I continue to write reams of research publications. I have written an entire thesis of nearly 100,000 words. So why do I believe I can’t write? For me, it's because I believe writers don’t worry about writing, it just happens naturally! They just sit in splendid isolation with perfect confidence and the prose flows. Right?
Better Together
My first mistake was envisioning an isolated writer seamlessly delivering without any support. Instead, I have discovered the absolute wonder of writer's groups. I certainly would not have finished my PhD without J. VanEvery ‘s “Meeting with your writing”. I still do my best writing with my friend Ruth on our writer's weekends. And I’m incredibly grateful for the co-working sessions that are available via the upfront global bond, ready for me to write every week if I can! Although writing is a solo activity in terms of getting words on the page, writer's groups provide accountability and practical support. The accountability comes from a group of people who will know if you procrastinate about getting words down on the page. In terms of practical support, there is almost certainly someone else who has faced any challenge you face. They will be able to recommend tools and techniques for focus, creativity and sometimes even rest! If you are interested in becoming more confident about writing to share your ideas, you can join us by signing up for Upfront’s Bond 5 at https://course.weareupfront.com/bond-5
Facing Fear
Imagine my shock to hear that writers worry about writing. In fact, there is a catalog of writing… about how much writers worry about writing. Fear, it turns out, is a core part of “being a writer”. Fear about how your writing will be received. Fear about how much you are writing. Fear about whether you will be able to write tomorrow, or this afternoon, or now!
Talking and writing about fear as a writer provides aspiring writers like me with a hand to understand we are not alone. But I don’t find all of the discussions equally useful. In particular, I have had a mixed experience with the approach of personifying fear as a separate part of you to be acknowledged but then ignored as much as possible. This is the approach I’ve read in “The Artist’s Way” and heard from Mo Gowdat. Here, the fearful concerned brain is given a name (Nigel and Becky respectively) and managed like an unwelcome guest at a party — a focus on engaging as little as possible to be able to move on. The extent that fear is unwelcome is extended by Liz Gilbert in “Big Magic”. In encouraging everyone to be creative, Liz proposes an exercise where you write to your fear. Personify them and tell them you accept that they are there but won’t be in control. In her account, they are an unwelcome passenger in the back seat during a car trip. I found that my worries about writing were so connected to my own experiences that this felt incredibly inauthentic. I was relieved and inspired to read Tara Mohr’s account of fear. Tara unpacks fear in a similar way — showing the importance of acknowledging and understanding your fear — but lands in a very different place. Your fear, particularly if you were raised as a woman, is trying to keep you safe. This is not an unwelcome guest or backseat driver. This is a caring, anxious friend who wants the best for you. I’ve found a focus on reassuring, rather than rejecting, transformative in my approach to writing. It gives me permission to try in places I feel safe, becoming more confident every time I press publish and the world doesn’t end.
I’d love to hear from others who have started writing regularly — how do you keep experimenting? What's worked for you? I’d love to hear in the comments or over on Twitter @ca_blakelock
I’m listening to
Not too busy to write Podcast — https://www.pennywincerwrites.com/not-too-busy-to-write-podcast
I’m following
Fiona likes to blog is @fionalikestoblog — https://fionalikestoblog.com/
I’m reading
Tara Mohr, Playing Big — https://www.taramohr.com/
