FACING THE BLANK PAGE

The writer’s block thing had gone on long enough. Supposedly I was developing a proposal for a YA bio of Edna St. Vincent Millay. But the two half-finished chapters I planned to include had been half-finished for a year. I live alone and work at home. My time is my own. I’d returned to this project in April. Yet here it was almost the end of May, and I was getting nothing done.

I was writing, I told myself. But I wasn’t. I was researching, jotting down notes, attempting some revision. That was on the good days. Other days, I read books on writing. Or I scoured my email for hints and chat from online writing groups. I was doing everything a writer should do—except write. And although I started this blog, which does require actual writing, it was a hit-or-miss affair. I wrote for it when the spirit moved me. Otherwise not. Obviously some bootstraps needed pulling up.

Then, on the Cath in the Hat blog, I saw an interview with children’s writer Kate Di Camillo (see it here), who was asked about her writing habits. Quite simple. Every morning she gets up at 5AM and, cup of coffee in hand, goes into her office and writes. She sets herself a modest goal, one she knows she can meet:  write two manuscript pages, single-spaced, or revise two pages, double-spaced. Every day. Two single-spaced pages can add up to over 1000 words. Not bad for a couple of hours work.

If Kate DiCamillo can do it, I told myself, so can I. After all, a few years ago, when I had a full-time job, I’d completed a 500-page novel by writing every morning before work. I’d done it once. I could do it again. To insure success I decided to begin with a goal even lighter than Di Camillo’s. I’d aim for 1000 words a day, but would be satisfied with 600.

I gave myself a few simple rules:
• I would get to work first thing in the morning, when my mind was most open to the subconscious and its creative power. No checking the weather. No peeking at email.  Grab my coffee and get to work.
• This would be first-draft raw material. No worrying about grammar, punctuation, or even style (a difficult rule for a former editor to follow).
• Whatever I wrote should have the potential to be revised into something useful—preferably for my Millay proposal. I didn’t have to work on the two sample chapters, not at first. Instead, I could write about structuring the biography, ruminate on Millay’s character, pose questions, devise ways to find out what I needed to know. Or I could write blog entries or scenes for other fiction and nonfiction I’d been working on. Or, if all else failed, I could respond to email or write entries in my journal.

Having heard that it takes three weeks to establish a habit, my first goal was to face the blank page every morning for three weeks before taking stock. Today was Thursday, May 26. I was due to attend a Biographers International Organization Conference in Washington the next day. On Sunday, May 22, the day I returned, I’d begin.

Clearing my computer desktop of all but a few essential file folders tucked away in a corner, I set up a new folder, THE BLANK PAGE, centered so it would jump out at me as soon as I opened my laptop. Inside was a blank document titled, 5/22/11.

Did my scheme work? I’ll be reporting on the outcome in subsequent posts.