17 posts tagged “writing”
I'm not sure what good it does to figure out the secrets of writing. I can't seem to make use of them.
Ritual, I discovered long ago, is one of the secrets of writing. Routine. Rhythm. Getting up at the same time each day, putting in a few hours before starting the rest of the day, getting to bed on time, and then getting up and doing it again. And again. And again. Habituate a practice, and it happens.
Even within the writing session, rituals help. Cue music. Fill water glass. Brew coffee. Close door. Shut down email and web browser. Open research log to see where I've been, where I'm going. Then . . . begin. Draft or sketch notes for 20-30 minutes, whatever else I do, and always end a session by recording what I need to do next.
There was a time when my writing ritual even included a raunchy leather hat from Fetla's.
Problem is, I have a hard time maintaining rituals. And when once my routine gets disrupted, it's hard to return to form. It sometimes takes weeks. I traveled to Amarillo and Reno, NV this past month and all routines fell apart. Lately, maintaining any kind of routine seems particularly hard, maybe because of the general chaos that my personal and work lives are in.
In any case, the challenge isn't the book project itself, but maintaining the habits, the form, that will carve out the time in which the book can finally unfold. So today, I'm starting all over again. Again. Sigh. But despite my apostasy, the routine welcomes me back, nonetheless. I am comforted.
. . . . . . . .
To help think about ritual, I went to Flickr, searched on the word Ritual, and took a fascinating tour of others' rituals. Here's just one, by 3amfromkyoto's photostream:
27.5 hours. That's how much research-related work I squeezed into the week of Sept 7-13. At the time, I was gaining a foothold.
8.5 hours. That was last week. I fell so far behind on my administrative and teaching duties that I couldn't even squeeze out the standard 12 hrs. So, the foothold slipped a bit.
9.5 hours. That's this week, if I push hard through Saturday. It's likely I'll come in somewhere around 6-7, because I continue to struggle to catch up with my workload.
In my post-grad-school life, I have learned that binges are unsustainable. The days when I could hunker down for days on end in a pair of ratty shorts with the blinds half-drawn, ignoring the bills, the phone, other people, personal hygiene -- those days are gone. People keep calling and knocking, meetings keep coming, deadlines roll in, and it's my job to run out and meet it all, every morning.
So: I have replaced excitingly frenetic Binge with the dull and plodding Even Keel. I think I was right to seek one sustained week of more intense focus, but I've been paying for it ever since. For the most part, my gains on this project have to be made daily. Every morning, to be precise. In small increments. Woven into the rest of my life.
The trouble with the Even Keel is that it's just as exhausting as the Binge. Adding in 1-2 hours every morning makes my day tight. Having every moment of every day scheduled to the max eventually makes me want to do nothing. Nothing at all. I sometimes lie on my bed and stare at the wall: such sweet relief.
I welcome any thoughts about how to keep an even keel without grinding oneself into a catatonic state. Anybody figured this one out?
This week I've spent 5-7 hours a day on research. At the cost of my day job and teaching, of course. But this month afforded a little more scheduling flexibility than usual, and next week has room for catch up.
I needed a foothold: to dig into the research just enough to gain some position for the next climb. And it's helping. My mind is back in the game in a way it hasn't been in a while. I've amassed a lot of the sources I need to proceed with the two articles I'm writing. I've completed a conference proposal. I've planned my semester's writing goals. I feel like a scholar. I've got a rhythm going.
So what have I learned? If you're going to putter along at 10-12 hours of research a week, build in an occasional week here or there for more intense work. The occasional double-time week pays off immensely.
Or so it seems for now. Check back with me in a few more weeks.
[Photo: a view of the talus on Mt Democrat, taken on my ascent in July 08]
I've been glancing over this blog, trying to figure it out. I think it has an identity crisis. It's random.
Now that my research and writing is back on, I've been wondering what role this blog can play. I think from here on out I'll use it exclusively to support the completion of my scholarly manuscript. That's my story for the next year, and I'm sticking to it.
So I hereby renew a few vows.
- I'm back to getting up early, writing first thing (after running).
- I'm also cutting out distractions. Eventually, I want a life full of all kinds of interesting goodies: travel, parties, kids, work, the outdoors, the arts, reading, cooking, community service, politics. But for now, I'm stripping it down. I'll still have some of all of these things, but less - UNTIL THE BOOK IS OUT. I want to stay out late and get a little wild. But instead, I go home at
11, so I can get up early and get back to work. I want to start
tutoring math at a local middle school. But instead, I reserve as much possible free time for cranking out the final leg of research and revision. I want to volunteer for the Obama campaign. But I will let the other many willing Austinites take on that role. Once the book is out, all bets are off. For now, I gotta drive this baby home.
- And I'm recommitting to what this blog can do: give me a sense of public identity to support the very solitary work of research and writing as an independent scholar.
So, buckle up. Here we go.
I realize that "dentate gyrus" sounds like some sort of sadistic orthodontic device. But it's really a part of your brain that keeps you sharp. It's providing yet more evidence that running helps writing. Apparently running -- and aerobic exercise in general -- causes your brain to produce more brain cells.
Nifty, eh?
Recent research by neuroscientists shows that "after pounding the treadmill four times a week for an hour for 12 weeks, a group of previously inactive men and women, ages 21 to 45, showed substantial increases in cerebral blood volume (CBV)--a proxy for neurogenesis because where there are more cells, there are more blood vessels."
These brain cells are developing in the dentate gyrus, "the very node that [another researcher] has identified as the site of impairment in normal memory loss."
People who do regular aerobic exercise do better cognitively than those who don't, they do better on memory tests, and they have enhanced "neural plasticity, the process by which the brain changes in response to learning." (Read the full article, which appeared in the 19 May 2008 issue of Time).
I must say, I find this thought comforting. My mind's fitness has often tracked my physical fitness, but I always thought that had to do with my thyroid disease. This research takes the connection to a deeper level: my brain feels the miles I pound, and flourishes.
Oh, and blueberries are apparently magical for your brain, too.
Last night I sat down to work on the book. I drove to my favorite local coffee shop -- a warm, friendly space named the Green Muse -- and settled down with an iced coffee. The space was cozy, the coffee was good. Several people smiled at me. I pulled out my laptop and a draft of my book prospectus. I tried to work. And . . . I just felt all wrong. Completely wrong.
I fought the feeling for a while, but eventually left the coffee shop and drove home. On the way, I began to sort out the feeling. It was this:
For the first time, I felt that I had lost my scholarly self. It wasn't that I didn't want to work on the book. I just felt so far removed from any of the scholarly practices and conversations -- and the time needed for intensive work -- that had defined my scholarly life for so long.
- I felt, for the first time, that being an independent scholar was an unnatural, impossible thing.
- That you cannot write scholarship in isolation, the way one can write creative works. You have to be at the conferences, in touch with the other scholars, teaching in the field, in a university department.
- And you have to be putting more time into it than I have been willing to commit. I want to write. But I also want to run, to play music, to cook, to spend time with friends, to read other books, to travel, to fix up my apartment. To get enough sleep at night. To have a child. Good scholarship isn't something one does on the side, unless you're willing to devote all of your spare time to it. It just takes too much time to keep up with the literature, conduct research, write, and maintain collegial contacts.
Today I'm feeling better. Had a good little breakthrough on the book proposal this morning. But I'm feeling fragile, and sobered. I will finish the book. But then? I may decide that I cannot be a scholar. At least not the kind of scholar that I have always strived to be.
I feel . . . a little . . . crushed . . . . Though I have chosen every step that brought me to this place, and would chose that path again.
[Photo taken from bookgrl's Flickr photostream: http://flickr.com/photos/bookgrl/1163158513/]
Eureka! The chapter which I have been hating and wrestling with has suddenly resolved itself!
I finally realized that the focus of the chapter is not one particular genre, but the subject matters appearing in that genre. These subjects were originally formulated in different genres (which I had been excluding but I now see I can include). Hurrah! Problems solved! I don't have to pursue this weird little genre of colonial texts; the weird little genre becomes only one of the many lenses through which these subjects were refracted. I can now use the full range of materials, and the same sort of argumentative structure, that I've used in other chapters.
It is astonishing how so many writing problems disappear if you can simply find the right frame for your topic. I was struggling to fit a spiral into a square peg. . . . Not. Working. (Grunt). In desperation, several days ago I had almost decided to relegate the entire 60-page chapter to a small 20-page epilogue to the book, slashing and burning all the elaborate but ultimately useless work I was doing there.
But now.
Ahhh.
I know what to do.
Apparently, every cell of our body has one. Our skin, organs, bones, blood are a-hum with time, every moment. Even more astonishingly, our inner chronometer "works in perfect rhythm with the finest mechanical clocks [ . . . ] over the course of [ . . . ] an entire life, it is off by no more than a few minutes. Our bodies are keenly aware of outer time, down to almost the exact second" (Klein 7).
I am reading about time in science journalist Stefan Klein's book The Secret Pulse of Time. Me and time, we've never gotten along that well. As a child, I dove into books and escaped into an other world's time. As a college student, I tried to outrun it. I carried packets of Vivarin in my back jeans pocket like Skoal. As a grad student, I tried to outwit it, scheduling my day down to the quarter hour, to grasp every last bit and wring it dry. Lately all I seem to be able to do is to track it, in spreadsheets, like I track the miles I run. At least I can watch its flow.
Klein, however, seems to think that the point isn't to shape and control time, but to sync our our lives to our biological clocks. To create a good fit with time. "There is a right time for each of the things we do. If you try to work counter to your personal rhythm, you will expend more time and energy on the things you need to get done. You will feel weary and wretched, without knowing why."
So for today, I share with you Klein's rough schedule of your biological clock. Use wisely. It may be that we can find the magic sweet spot for writing and running somewhere in the rhythm of our cells.
6:00 Your heart starts to beat faster.
7:00 You wake up (which, if you're a "night" person, is easier to do if the sun is shining on you).
7:15 You may feel a bit of a letdown, which is also attributable to your hormonal balance. [. . . ] This is why depression is almost always the most severe in the morning. But the mood-enhancing
hormones will soon kick in.
7:30 Your mind is not quite clear yet. You should stick to simple mechanical tasks.
8:00 Your thinking power hits its stride [as your body stops producing melatonin.]
8:30 You feel the urge to move your bowels.
10:30 Your mind is at its most alert. You can solve complex problems more deftly now than at any other time of day. Your biological clock makes your efficiency fluctuate by up to 30 percent. The difference between your peak and low hours is quite marked, the equivalent of drinking three to four glasses of wine, in the latter case.
12:00 You are feeling quite chipper, since your brain is now releasing an ample quantity of beta-endorphin and serotonin. Time seems to pass uncommonly quickly.
2:00 Your inner excitement subsides. You begin to daydream. If you have to give a lecture at this time, and
you find yourself staring into vacant faces, this is not necessarily a reflection on the poor quality of your
lecture.
2:30 Now would be the time for a siesta. Twenty minutes are plenty, and will make you more alert, more
efficient, and in a better mood.
3:30 You begin to perk up again.
4:00 Your reaction time grows shorter. You handle simple tasks quite well. Most people are better at retaining facts that they have memorized in the afternoon.
5:00 The optimal time for sports. Your body temperature has risen even higher. Your heart and lungs work more efficiently than at any other time of day. A pleasant byproduct of the workout: if you work up a sweat at this time, your body temperature will fall mroe sharply about six hours later, which facilitates falling asleep.
6:00 Your sense of taste is keenest at this point.
7:00 This is the best time to savor a fine wine, because alcohol is tolerated best in the early evening, when you are least likely to stay tipsy. The liver reaches the peak of its activity at about eight o'clock.
8:00 Your brain is still fit for routine tasks like sorting papers.
9:00 The first melatonin is secreted, preparing the body for sleep. Your body temperature falls.
10:00 Your alertness fades, and your mood dips.
11:00 For most people, sex occurs at bedtime."
Note: small children's circadian rhythms tend to run earlier than this schedule, and in teenage years, the rhythm shifts about two hours backward, making almost all teenagers "night owls".
Can I count this as a blog entry if all I do is plug someone else's blog entry?
But I can't help myself. Thank you Notorious Ph.D., Girl Scholar, for blogging about your book proposal process! A six-point memo, short and sweet, about "how to propose."
Mmmmm. Yummm. This is what social networking is all about!
Today I pick myself up and crawl back on the wagon.
At the beginning of April I missed a week and a half of writing, due to interference from the Rest of My Life. April 10 I started again, then missed three more days. Stalling, faltering, wandering away. Meanwhile, I have been missing runs, as well. Last weekend I even skipped my long run.
It is difficult to retain focus and commitment over long periods of time. It becomes even more difficult when one is weathering a personal crisis, as I am now; when one's career is uncertain, as mine is now; and when one is trying to build a more involved social life, as I am doing now.
But I want this book to happen so badly. I ache to create it, even though it's the most maddeningly difficult thing I've ever attempted. I need both the creative challenge and the words -- the plasticity of the words! And so with running: even when I don't want to run, I need running. I can't entirely explain it. It's partly about feeling strong. It's partly about stress relief. It's partly about getting out of my office, my house, my clothes. But it's largely about things I can't even name: something that happens to me in the rhythm of the run. And the tiredness. And the power of my muscles pulling me through the woods, the streets, the air.
So, this morning I got up early, made the coffee and oatmeal, and I put in my writing time. This afternoon I will leave work a bit early, log a good 10-miler, and so begin training for an upcoming series of trail races.
On we go, again!
