Big Ed's Place

An author friend of mine appears to be recovering from a year of burnout. I say ‘appears’ because until he releases his most recent work in progress, it’s hard to tell if this is a true recovery or just a temporary spurt of enthusiasm.

The burnout’s been difficult to watch, secondhand. A lot of it was that he’d hit the dreaded marathon mile 22, when it just hurts to continue, but the end isn’t in sight yet. Some of it was because he had some writer’s blocks that were both subtle and difficult. He didn’t realize how one loose end was slowing him down, even though it wasn’t something imminent in his story. It was like the dirty dishes on the table that make it hard to concentrate on the computer because you keep thinking, “I need to take those to the kitchen” but don’t actually do so. Then add in the fact that his life became more complex and non-writing elements became more emotionally rewarding and thus more distracting.

Like I said, it was difficult to watch. Sometimes he’d complain about not wanting to write. More often, he’d spend a great deal of time analyzing why he wasn’t writing, but the analysis would never turn into actual writing. He’d identify ‘all I need to do is x” and “x” would only last a few days. He was thrashing in emotional mud and there wasn’t much I could do to help.

For writing, especially when it’s not a career, is a largely solitary, self-motivated effort. Outsiders can’t compel creativity to flow onto the page. Bribes can sometimes work, particularly with some people, but not always. There are times when the emotional burden is just so great that an author would rather mop their floor than write another word, even if the rest of the time the writing is a joy.

Which brings me to the flip side and opposite extreme–obsession. Damn. I’ve been obsessed lately with Deep Dish, and this is rare for me. It’s not just the ‘thinking about the story in the idle moments of my day’ that seems to be common for most writers. It’s staying up two hours later than I should so I can keep hashing out a single page of the script. It’s wondering if I’m sitting far enough back in the boring business meeting to pull out my notes and work on it (which would be disastrous if I got caught). It’s spending hours trying to find just the right picture of a 1970′s diner to pass on to my artist so he knows what I’m thinking of (and, FWIW, it’s all but impossible to find such a picture). It’s not wanting to do my standing obligations, or even other aspects of writing that I love (like this post) because it’s taking me away from my obsession.

When I step back from myself, it’s fascinating to watch. It isn’t quite as painful as watching burnout, though in some ways just as scary. Am I going to sacrifice something I shouldn’t? Am I going to push things further than I should in stealing time from elsewhere? What if, despite my obsession, it doesn’t work out, either creatively or as a project? I could do a ton of work and still end up with something that’s either crap or that I can’t get published/finished.

It’s mania, to burnout’s depression.

I don’t know if other authors go through such swings, or if this obsession looks familiar to them. But it’s a wild ride right now. And perhaps it’s just a touch of mania that we need to keep us going sometimes.

Tags: Deep Dish, writing community, writing philosophy

This entry was posted on Wednesday, July 7th, 2010 at 6:00 am and is filed under General Musings. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.