Finding your voice: Part 6 of 10

By now you're used to just letting words rip off your keyboard, or pen, and onto the screen, or journal, without much thought. That's great. In the past few exercises, we talk a lot about just moving around your mind. Not worrying too much about what's coming, surprising yourself by just letting your mind say things. You hear distractions outside and your mind switches to them and your hand also switches to the distractions quickly.

In Parts 4 and 5 we added that element of the unusual. Exaggerate. Add stuff that you wouldn't normally find next to each other. Yes, the horse that looks at you and give you the evil eye at the grocery store. Juan Valdez's burro enticing you to buy Columbian coffee. Your hammer toes and their gnarled toe nails. But you eventually reach a point where you need to step away. The electric signals that form thought, that create images in your mind are seemingly tireless. You can close your eyes and stay that way without too much fatigue. But your hand isn't like that. Eventually your mind says, "hey, you're way too slow, I need to move a little faster," and the frustration sets in. You will get fatigued and your hand will stop. All of a sudden, a drink of water isn't a bad idea. You probably need one anyway, but the urgency is now immediate. You need to stretch also. You need to turn your eyes on something else. The television beckons. The phone is saying, "hey, you haven't spoken to John in a while," all the distractions are coming at you full force and you can't seem to slow them down.

In this Part we learn how to deal with them. The main idea in practising to keep your hand on the paper, to keep going, to keep typing, is so that you get used to seeing your voice on paper. So at this time, the new technique is timing. Take note of the distraction and write about it for a few minutes. OK, it's the fatigue, well, this is really something that's going on in your mind so you shouldn't ignore it. So argue with it. It's the thirst? Say something about how you really should be writing, but you feel that it's time for a break. A thirst break, after all, our bodies are 70% water and we need to maintain that balance. Take a look at your watch and determine that you're going to stay put for the next fifteen minutes. Not five, not ten. But fifteen. This is a magical number with magical powers. In fifteen minutes, you'll get rid of the argument. A five minute discussion with yourself isn't strong enough. But after ten minutes you'll have analysed the need to walk away quite well. Say, like me, you're in the library. You're typing away and you can see people all around you. You feel that you should, like I do, go over to the stacks and pick out a book. Something to change direction. This is an excuse to get off the current topic. You're bored. At this time, discuss the type of book you think you should be going to get and why you think you should be going to get it. Write about this for a while. Check your watch and then after fifteen minutes, see if you still need to get up. Chances are you won't feel that way. Chances are you'll be right back to the writing having argued yourself out of going to get that book. It's the same with a glass of water, although this one's a bit tougher. There are instances where your body's telling you something real and you should get up and get that drink.

If you were in the middle of writing that novel, it's a good idea to have your writing practice book nearby. In my case, I write on the computer so my writing practise book is a document. When I draw blanks and my mind wanders and I can't go on, I'm fighting my character who doesn't want to entertain me, well, I switch to that writing practise document and discuss this particular deadlock. It's almost like creating an outline for the next step. What is going on? Why can't I move? What should this person be doing? What else is going on. And on and on and on and on I go till finally, I begin to understand something and it's almost resolved.

The fatigue of writing can also stop you from being productive. If you write with pen and paper, your hand does get tired after a while and so Natalie Goldberg advises keeping those writing practices short. Ten minutes, fifteen minutes or twenty minutes. Some can go on for an hour if you so feel. I can type for about fifteen minutes before I have to stop. That's because I type quite quickly and so after fifteen minutes my hand's tired. My brains still going, but my hand needs a break. So I stop. Consciously. Down tools and look at what I've done. Not all the time, but sometimes I'll re-read what I just wrote. This isn't necessary because I've scared myself often with the gobledegook that's on screen. Sometimes I don't even understand it. Words collated from my brain onto paper and they just don't make sense. But I've noticed one thing. They normally have to do with my emotional state. If I've come back from a run and I'm resting, I analyse the run and think about it. If I'm in the library, I'm more contemplative. At those times I'm apt to write longer and about nonsensical philosophical subjects. If I'm at home, it's in the evening and I'm literally brain dead, then my typing is slow and I'm wondering about my surroundings.

In conclusion, when you feel that fatigue set in, stop and identify the source of the fatigue. Time yourself for fifteen minutes to write about it in your journal. Keep a bottle or glass of water handy, next to you so that you can continually stay hydrated. Coffee's OK, but water's better. And don't re-read what you've done if you can help it. Just keep going and let the words come as they may.