This article was originally published on Penguin.com.
by Amy Spencer
Here’s what I learned from writing my second book: It takes me about ten minutes to know if I’m “writing right.”
When I was writing the first draft of my new book Bright Side Up: 100 Ways to Be Happier Right Now, some days I’d sit down and clomp at the keys for ten minutes before realizing that all I’d really written was a long, bad, clunky caption. And, anyway, wasn’t it time to refresh my Facebook page? And file down the nail I’d been nervously gnawing all morning? In those first weeks, I was so overwhelmed by trying to write a perfect book, my words were concrete blocks, painfully heavy with all the pressure I’d lumped on them. Every day, I questioned myself and this crazy idea I had to write one hundred chapters—one hundred?—on living a happier life.
As the due date loomed closer, my daily writing quota grew longer. I didn’t just need to write one chapter a day to make my deadline; I needed two chapters, or three, and one time even seven. But a funny thing happened on those busy writing days. (Oh, a funny thing other than gaining ten pounds because I rewarded myself for making my quota by chowing down on delivery pizza.) Basically, my writing was so much better.
It was better because without the time to listen to my inner critic, I had no choice but to type the words just as they came. Instead of cumbersome concrete blocks, my words were little river rocks, smooth around the edges. This, to me, is what now feels like, “writing right.” From now on, if I haven’t put down anything that feels real in ten minutes, I know it’s time to take a new angle, try a new metaphor, tell a different story.
Now, hear me out on this: I’m talking about the rough draft. I’ll still go over what I’ve written eight, twelve or twenty times, shaping it until it feels right. But that first round? Getting it down on paper? I think our writing is best when it’s flowing easy, when it’s smooth like those river rocks, because that’s what’s most authentically us.
I’m not talking about “Writing what you know,” I’m talking about “Writing it the way it feels right.” It feels right because it’s true from the inside. When I’m trying to sound smarter or impress my professional peers, that’s when I get stuck. That’s when I know I should step back and ask this: Why is this hard? What’s not true about what I’m writing?
So now, when I’m writing one of my novels, crafting a post on my site TheLifeOptimist.com or creating my weekly optimism idea in the “Vitamin Optimism” email I send out, I know that if it takes me more than ten minutes to capture the essence of what I want to say, something’s not true about what I’m writing. And that means it’s not my best work—it can’t be!
When we “try” to hit a trend or sound smarter or win awards or write bestsellers, we’re only steering ourselves away from exactly that because we’re not being real. Instead of trying, we should just do. Write what feels right. Write what flows most easily in those first ten minutes whether your inner critic thinks it’s any good or not. Because that’s when you open yourself up to write your best work. Oh, and that’s also when you get to order a delivery pizza when you’re done.
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