That Feeling When You Start Over
I wrote 50,000 words and then got stuck.
Started over.
Wrote 26,000 words; got stuck.
Now I’m starting over again.
Will I ever finish a full draft?
I know I was supposed to continue with my Writing with ADHD series, but let’s just say… the ADHD kicked in. So instead, I’m going to talk about my feelings on starting over with a draft.
It happens to the best of us. You get to a spot in your draft and realize “Oh, this isn’t what I want to write” or “This isn’t correct” or another variation on that thought.
It’s been happening to me regularly for the last several years.
Starting over with a draft may be nothing new, but it’s still just a frustrating as always. You see, I struggle with perfectionism in my writing, and some say that can stem from ADHD. I hadn’t realized the possible connection until recently.
I struggle with feeling like whatever I create, be that hand-writing or typing, must be perfect. Because then I won’t feel like I’m wasting my time. If I write something that I’m eventually no longer going to use, I feel like I’ve wasted my time, so why ever write something I won’t use?
Ridiculous, right? No one (in my humble opinion) can write perfectly on the first try. That’s how people can make a living off being an editor. Yet my brain tells me that if it’s not perfect, it’s a waste of my time. And when I live in a country whose lifeblood is Productivity, a waste of time is the last thing I want.
On an intellectual level, I understand that first drafts are meant to be messy. They exist more to tell the story to yourself than others. On an emotional level… I’m still trying to wrap myself around the understanding.
Hand writing prose helps with this. It’s something about having to stare at a computer screen and the incessant blinking cursor that hinders me and pushes the perfectionism. A physical blank page is easier to look at (it’s also thought that hand writing is better for your brain than typing but we’ll talk about that in a later post).
Starting over isn’t so bad at first. The dopamine rush of a newer, shinier, better idea is great, but actually executing on that idea? Not as great.
In Natalie Goldberg’s book Writing Down the Bones she discusses writing as a practice.
Sit down with the least expectation of yourself; say, “I am free to write the worst junk in the world.” You have to give yourself the space to write a lot without a destination.
This kind of stuff is hard to do. Writing without a destination? Writing the worst junk in the world? Give me a break!
Yet, that’s exactly what I’d be doing if I was following this. Giving myself a break from perfectionism. Freedom. So why is it so damn hard to do?
Well it’s called “writing practice” for a reason. Goldberg equates this to how a runner stretches before a run. They don’t say “Oh, I ran yesterday, I’m limber” – they stretch each time before a run. In the same vein, a writer should “stretch” before writing. While she doesn’t explicitly state the term freewriting, she implies it as good practice.
Writing practice embraces your whole life and doesn’t demand any logical form… It’s a place that you can come to wild and unbridled… It is undirected and has to do with all of you right in your present moment.
One day, I’ll figure out the practice of freewriting. But today, I’m going to allow myself to feel both equal parts the disappointment and excitement of having to start over.
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