5 Motivational Writing Tips to Get You Back to Work

Let’s admit it, writing is difficult. Yes, we have the whole writer’s block thing, which I don’t believe in (thought I did believe in when I was starting out). Yes, we have imposter syndrome, and failure (so, so many failures—fail better!), and a constant lack of confidence (doesn’t matter how many stories or novels we get published, or how proud of what we’ve written we are—we’re no good and never will be, because what we think is great isn’t getting any love from literary magazines or publishers, editors or agents, which gets us back to the imposter syndrome thing). You know what I say about all that? So what. Who cares? Unless you got into writing to make money (I hope you didn’t, because the chances are pretty high you’re going to be disappointed), you write because you can’t not write. You write because you have something to say. You write to make sense of life, which doesn’t make sense at all, especially these days.

So, on this beautiful Friday (it’s beautiful where I’m at and looks to be pretty nice all over the U.S., though Tropical Storm Melissa looks like it’s becoming a hurricane), I want to share 5 motivational writing tips to get you back to work.

Don’t Edit While You Write. Now, I’m sure you’ve heard this one before, and you know what it means. But it doesn’t have to be a full-on, abandon that adverb that sticks out like a sore thumb sort of “don’t edit.” Take that thing out! But try to stick to making progress on your novel rather than trying to make it perfect as you’re writing it.

If you’re jamming through the writing, meaning you’re taking yourself on the adventure, keeping the headlights on the road ahead, you’re not going to be looking too much in the rear view. For me, that forces me to remain consistent when it comes to voice, and just the overall feeling of having a cohesive narrative. So, do your best to just push forth. This sounds like it might only apply to pantsers, but it’s not. If you’re a plotter/outliner, the same thing holds true. Just jam. You can come back later to pick up the cones you knocked down peeling off down the road.

Pretend You’re Going on Vacation. It’s stupid, I know. But it works. Find yourself a spot in your house, or hike up a mountain (I’ve done this and loved it), go to the Florida room or the basement and set yourself up for success. Make some hot tea with honey. Or bring your coffee maker over. Your espresso machine. Set everything up like you’re in an office, or like you’re on vacation, with your laptop/desktop/notepad/whatever you write on and get to it. It requires as little or as much as you want it to.

In my basement, I have multiple decent sized rooms—a room for laundry, one for storage (I think that’s what it’s for, although it does have some cable and other wires in there), another is a large closet, and there’s a bedroom that doesn’t have anything in it but a desk and my college diplomas that I’ve yet to hang on the walls. They’re quiet rooms. They make me feel like I’m somewhere else. And that changes things up for me mentally. I’m working, I tell myself, and it’s going to be fun. Because I have nothing in my way except the excuses I make for myself. Plus you can throw a leigh on and make yourself a mocktail (don’t drink and write—it’s not worth it).

Challenge Yourself to Write a Certain Number of Words

Remember, a page a day is a 365-page book in 1 year. Double that and you’ll have that book done in six months. Triple that and . . . you get my point. I hear a lot of writers say they write 1,000 words a day and then go live the lives they have outside of writing. 1,000 words is about three pages. That’s not so much, if you think about it. I tend to write a lot more than that, but my style and process is to write quickly (again, to maintain the music and rhythm of the narrative) and then edit for a year or more. Not straight through (I’ll write another first draft or edit a previously written novel) but try to always work on something. Writing that’s worth reading takes time. And like it or not, that’s something you’ll have to get used to if you’re a newbie.

Know That You’re Not Alone

There are approximately 3 writers whose confidence never wavers. Three. But no one knows who they are. And it’s probably not 3. But whatever. Anyway, every writer I know goes through the same process, even if they get their at different times. To write means to fail. Every line you write, every paragraph, every chapter, every draft, has issues. John Grisham rewrote the ending to his latest book because no one—his agent, his wife, his publisher, liked it. He had to write another 30,000 words before he arrived at a conclusion that everyone enjoyed and that was worthy of the rest of his novel. The gist is this: You aren’t alone. Shakespeare. Maybe he was alone, writing every first draft perfectly, he was that much a genius. But I doubt it. There is no magic potion for writing a novel (and don’t say AI. DO NOT SAY AI!). There’s the first sentence. The first draft. The first edit. And then there’s a lot more editing. We all think we suck as we’re writing. As we’re editing. And maybe we do. But that’s part of writing. That’s why we say “fail better.” Because it’s what we do. Writing is rewriting. Get that into your head yesterday.

Cheat

Not literally, of course, but figuratively. Read a book that you’d like your book to be like. Copy someone’s style. Steal a plot (there are no new plots, so you’re not really stealing anything, you’re just writing it differently). Hamlet was an adaptation of a Scandinavian tale about Amleth, which was recorded in the Gesta Danorum by Saxo Grammaticus. The Old Man and the Sea has thematic and narrative similarities to Serpa's 1936 novel The Marlin, which also centers on an old man and a boy fishing, though with a different ending. The plot of Stephen King's novel Desperation has been noted to bear similarities to the 1985 novel The Damnation Game by Clive Barker. My novel The Losses was sort of written with Olive Kitteridge in mind. It was inspiring to me and had this sort of vanilla type writing (to me it did) that I could just riff off of it, and so I did. For 326 pages. You do what you have to do to get the words on the page.

Make it a game. Make it a challenge. Make it a mini writing vacation. Make it whatever you have to make it in order to get the job done. You’re a writer, my friend, and writers write. So, get to it.

Cully Perlman is a novelist, short story writer, editor, and halfway decent cook. He can be reached at Cully@novelmasterclass.com

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