I’m sure many friends can relate to this tweet. It made me laugh out loud. But I’m going to take it seriously: I think it reveals the problem of viewing one’s life through the framework of identity rather than practice (or Being rather than Becoming, or representation rather than production). I have spent a good chunk of my time in therapy over the past couple years working through this issue in my own life; the transformation of my own relationship to writing is evidence of how my approach has changed.
I used to view writing through the lens of identity. I AM a writer. I AM an academic. The extent to which I live up to these identities is the measure of how successful I am as a person—indeed, the degree to which I am “good.” This means that when I do not write I am failing my identity. I am not simply “not doing” a thing: I am a failure at the kind of person that I want to be.
This focus on the identity of “writer” was demonstrably counterproductive for me. It in fact prevented me from doing the actual act of writing. The pressure to live up to the ideal was too great, and it was easier to avoid it altogether than to work through the problem. This resulted in a whole host of negative reactions and even a good deal of self-loathing (all too common for grad students).
Talking through this problem with my therapist over the course of months was extremely helpful. Together, we practiced identifying the emotions I felt around writing, feeling them in my body, connecting them to specific experiences, and understanding the thought-patterns that fed into them. Once I had this understanding, I could begin to break away from the identity-based approach. Instead, I understood the problem as a set of processes and thus a set of practices. The solution would not be found through finally “living up” to the identity, being a “good” writer (and thus a “good” person). Rather, the solution was to be found in abandoning this focus on Being in favor of a practice of never-ending Becoming.
As part of my re-orientation, I read several books about writing, including Stephen King’s On Writing, Paul J. Silvia’s How to Write a Lot, and Wendy Laura Belcher’s Writing Your Journal Article in Twelve Weeks. The authors of each of these books approach writing as a set of practices to be cultivated rather than as an identity. It turns out that the key to writing is… writing. You have to actually sit down and write, whether you want to or not, whether you “feel inspired” or not.
Following this, I have cultivated the practice of writing as part of my morning routine. I wake up, I drink coffee and read, and then I sit down at my computer and write for at least fifteen minutes. It can be about anything, although usually it is connected to my academic work in some way. I don’t check my email. I don’t go looking for a source. I write.
The key for me is to simply write. This is not the time for editing, not the time for revising. I simply get words down on the page for at least fifteen minutes. I do not identify with them, and I do not identity with the representation of myself as a “writer.” I just produce words. I write. And I do it every day. These sessions add up, and they form the basis for longer writing sessions in which I bring the ideas together, revise, and form them into something that I want to share with others. This post is itself the product of a morning writing session.
I do not mean to trivialize this or present a facile solution. “Oh, the key to writing is to write? Sure, super helpful, thanks.” This is the product of many hours of therapy and a long, at times painful, process of self-evaluation and transformation. Writing is but one of many manifestations of this re-orientation in my life.
But I maintain that the shift from identity and representation to practice and production has completely transformed my relationship with writing. Instead of worrying about being a good writer, I write. And it has been by far the most productive year of my life.
