Are we having fun yet?

I am trying to start writing again. I figure a daily routine is the only way to get anything done, since not having one has been a resounding failure.

Okay, so let’s say I set a goal of writing 500 words a day. What is the first obstacle I run into? Not having any idea what to write about. So I create an outline or scene list to choose from. But I don’t feel inspired to write any of the scenes. Nothing comes to mind when I think about them. It’s easier to just go on Facebook or watch a movie or play Sudoku. Or do laundry or go to the store or eat. Eating seems to be the default pattern, hence the need to wear stretch clothing.

But let’s say I stick to the goal and write 500 words a day anyway. Does this, what I’m writing now, count? The thought of setting and playing by rules shuts me down immediately, so it doesn’t matter if it counts or not. It’s not a game. If we go by results rather than rules, then journaling or blogging may or may not count. It helps to write about my problems with writing but it can also be just another way to procrastinate. Julia Cameron says in The Artist’s Way that three handwritten, stream-of-consciousness Morning Pages a day, before you start officially Writing, is the key. I don’t have the patience or the dexterity to hand-write that much any more, so typing will have to do. How many typed lines add up to three handwritten pages? I don’t know. Let’s estimate 500 words.

So let’s say I commit to Morning Pages plus 500 words a day of official Writing. That’s a thousand words per day. Still quite do-able. But of course, I freeze up at the thought of all that blankness. So a couple of months ago, I came up with the #10w idea — ten words a day, just to get started. That worked for a few days, maybe two weeks. And now it doesn’t work any more.

Here’s the thing: no matter how many goals I set, how many agreements I make with myself, they only work for so long. Because I have figured out that the only penalty for not sticking with them is the natural result: not getting the writing done. Plus the self-loathing, of course. Neither of those consequences is frightening enough to make me write every day because I am so used to them. Every day, I don’t get writing done. And every day, I live in a constant state of self-disgust. This is my default, so I have nothing to fear there.

What about the opposite, then? What about going toward instead of away? What if my goal was to feel fucking fantastic, physically and emotionally, every day?

Let’s be honest: that is how mature adults behave. Clearly, I have reached the advanced age of 68 without maturing very much, because the idea of feeling fantastic motivates me very little. I simply have no experience with it and can’t even imagine the possibility.

Case in point: I bought a van, moved into it, travelled in it, and still reverted to my hermit ways. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but I had other plans. I was going to become fit and healthy by living an active, outdoor life — while also (possibly contradicting myself) calling this new life an extended writer’s retreat. I was going to become an Active, Outdoor Writer with a capital W. I was going, in other words, to become Someone Else.

Didn’t happen.

Maybe that’s the lesson I came out here to learn: to accept myself as I am. Maybe adventuring and hiking and outdoor activities aren’t my thing. Maybe I just like to watch the world from the comfort and safety of my little tin cocoon. So, fine. As long as I get enough exercise to be healthy, a walk or two per day (and yes, I’m getting a puppy to make sure I do), then holing up in LaVanne the rest of the time is just a choice like any other. I like it in here. I didn’t become Someone Else but I did become More Me, and that’s a good thing.

So what about this Writing thing, then? Do I have to write books — or anything else, for that matter? No. I know this.

I’ve been running on the fear that I will have Regrets in my old age because way back when I was a kid, my mother planted the idea in my head that I should be a writer. THANKS, MOM. And as I got older, I admired the work of many authors so I wanted to write books too. I had a few great ideas, tried to write them, ran into Self Doubt, and gave up before finishing. I can’t tell you how many times this has happened. A lot.

So now I have Regrets in my old age. Doesn’t everyone? But this one had built up into an absolute dread that my entire life would be a meaningless, miserable failure if I didn’t finish one good book before I die. (Notice I said “good” book, not just book — and by “good” I mean “New York Times bestseller that gets made into a hit movie starring Susan Sarandon as me” — because I am nothing if not grandiose. Turns out grandiosity is a hallmark of perfectionism, who knew? Hillary Rettig knows. She wrote all about it in her terrific book, The 7 Secrets of the Prolific. If you want to write, buy it. Seriously.)

I just finished an excellent course called Write Your Memoir in 6 Months, taught by Brooke Warner and Linda Joy Myers. I got more of my book written than any of the previous attempts by a long shot. But I didn’t finish. What I got was a very messy first draft, like the “shitty first draft” Anne Lamott talks about in her wonderful book, Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life. That should be reassuring but in the last class, I shocked everyone by declaring that I hated writing and was giving it up. I promised myself I would finish this book, though, just to be able to feel good about something.

I couldn’t make myself go back and start rewriting it, though, at least not yet. I thought I’d let it marinate for a while and in the meantime try to learn how to enjoy life without a black cloud of Should hanging over me. No more writing! Just living, having fun!

That’s when the ideas started hitting me: I could write a novel, a mystery about a vandwelling detective: Murder in Quartzsite! And I got a great idea for another memoir! And I wrote a Christmas story!

And it was fun.

So I guess the verdict is in: I am a writer, whether I like it or not. Now I just need to learn to have fun with it.