A Note for You, If You’re Having A Bad Day
Dear Friend,
How are your creative processes going these days? Do you have habits you like? Routines? Do you find or make time to play? What does the play look like?
A few of you have asked about my creative process, which I feel sheepish about, I guess! I keep trying to figure out how to start writing about it, and get hung up: It’s nothing special! I am typing naked in my bed right now because I haven’t got the gumption to dry myself off post-shower! I am not a role model — my comforter is FILTHY!
I’m not a particularly consistent person, either, and while I love reading about how writers build their practices, and can admire the hell out of a regular routine, I get too distracted too easily for any of that to stick for me. Right now I’m in a period of deep parenting exhaustion that has coincided with the beginning of the school year to make me embarrassingly poorly committed to my own creativity.
For the past six years, since I bought an iPad, I’ve loved drawing in bed at night while watching TV with my husband, but lately my daughter has been unable to fall asleep until 9:30 or 10 p.m., no matter how early we start the process. That means that by the time she’s down, I am also ready to go to sleep. For about a calendar year I was keeping up well with a morning handwritten journal routine, which I loved, but this summer I’ve been so bone-tired in the mornings that I feel I can’t wake up in time to journal. When I do, I get distracted by the crossword. (I’m going through a real crossword phase right now, and for what? To stave off dementia, is what I tell myself, and is probably what you tell yourself, too, if you get addicted to crosswords. But is that it? Or do I just like to be cozy and crave word puzzles before my husband is awake to disparage a punny clue?)
Nevertheless, I know that this is a season, and it will pass. Just as the vaguely manic seasons of getting-so-much-done-oh-my-god-how-am-I-this-amazing-I-just-made-a-tableaux-out-of-a-dresser-drawer-I-found-in-an-alley-while-on-a-daybreak-run-now-let’s-cook seasons pass (unfortunately), this lethargic one will too. So rather than pretend that I virtuously and regularly implement the same strategies for writing, drawing, and making art, I’ve settled on giving you a menu of things that have worked for me in the past and might work for you, if you’re seeking something new to try.
Write while in motion: Some of my best success comes from writing while I’m moving. I love to write on the train more than I love to write anywhere, and have historically booked Amtrak journeys to nowhere just to sit in the lounge car drinking tea and writing while looking out a window. I also got briefly into writing while on the treadmill, and delighted in the quirky sentences that resulted when I wasn’t able to go back and reread and delete.
Play writing games: A writing activity book designed for eighth graders is a treasure trove of activities and ideas that are supposed to lure kids who think of composition as stupid and poopy. The people who write these books go out of their way to make writing seem like it’s fun. You already think writing is fun, so imagine how much fun you’re going to have when you’re playing around with a book that wants you to believe something you already believe! My personal fave is Writers Express, which came out when I was in elementary school, and I definitely stole it from my teacher. Mrs. Belanger, if you’re reading this, I’m sorry. You’re not getting this back, and neither is Robert Gray Middle.
Write WITH someone: My longtime partner Bob is excellent at playing writing games all by himself, and comes up with really funny and smart ideas when he’s independently responding to prompts. Knowing this about him made it clear to me that he would be so game for a pass-back-and-forth Google Doc story. We wrote one together during the pandemic and it was very sexy.
Lynda Barry: The best activities for creatives are in Lynda Barry’s books. Last year I worked through Syllabus and Making Comics in earnest. A fountain of joy.
On writing a whole book: Sometimes, I am writing a whole book. The thing about writing a whole book is that you just have to keep going.
says that 1,000 words a day is a realistic goal that anyone can meet, and I agree, especially if you’re working on something fiction. For nonfiction, I set a timer for 90 minutes. Sometimes we get it in our heads that we need a SUPER LONG TIME to do meaningful writing. This is simply not true, and it’s not realistic. Most people are not going to be able to carve out five hours to write, or even three, or even two! You’d be amazed what you can get done in just 20 minutes, if 90 seems daunting. When you’re writing a whole book, the most important thing is to do a little bit every day. Don’t worry about it being bad. Just worry about it being.Finish something: If you have a lot of projects that dangle at loose ends, but then you get distracted by a new and shiny project, pick up something you didn’t finish, and finish it. Finish it badly. Just find an ending. It’s shocking how scared we can be to say something is done; we want the possibility that the thing could keep going. But then you are adding to an eternally growing closet-pile that never gets cleaned out. Finishing something in a wobbly way is a great way to show your own body that you are capable of finishing. You don’t have to stick the landing; you just have to see that it’s a safe thing to do, and that you will survive.
Do a drawing tutorial: Especially a cartooning one! Here’s an Ivan Brunetti style drawing tutorial that will take you two minutes and will get you started.
Go somewhere: If you go to a coffee shop or a library or a coffee bookshop library hybrid with all your supplies and the intention of doing some work, you will do some work. If you say you’re going to get some work done in your own living room, the probability of you getting distracted by a pile of mail is 70 percent. This is science.
Have every creature comfort: Soft music on the speakers, tea with honey, a woodsy candle, a view out the window, and a cozy blanket. Now try writing. Or drawing. Even if you don’t like the thing you make, you will like the journey.
Lie on the ground: The most important part of my writing practice is lying on the ground. It has to be a good ground, with gentle visual interest. The one in my upstairs sitting room is perfect. Next to a pond is really good, too. Under a shady tree in the part of the park where no one is interested in playing is a winner. My deck. I lie on the ground, I take a few deep breaths, and then I say to myself, “OK, Self, let’s have a little think. What’s on your mind?” I let my mind off its leash. It can go wherever it wants. When it feels like it’s going towards dead-ends or into closets that need organizing, I refocus it: “What else have you noticed you’ve been noticing?” is my redirect. A few more questions I like to ask myself:
What have you heard people saying?
What conversational themes have been coming up lately?
What’s been making you angry?
What’s been making you confused?
What’s been making you sad? Joyful?
I have my notebook next to me and write down whatever comes up. Then I pivot and think some more. I do think that this is the most integral and least-talked about step for people working creatively. You have to have Nothing Time, where you’re just kind of thinking. And mostly you’re not even thinking anything that useful.
I’ve tried doing this while walking, but my mind gets carried by my walk too easily. I get distracted by a specific dog, or a specific pothole. Lying in bed is too cozy. I don’t want to be in relaxation mode. I want to be actively thinking. Lying in a place where I’m watching other people lends itself to being too centered in on THE PEOPLE.
Being on the ground makes me feel connected to the rhythms of … something? IDK, it’s woo. But it works. And I recommend it.
What should we add to this menu? What else is there to try? What do you want to create, and how are you going to do it? Tell us. The comments are open for business.
Thank you for spending time here today. I’m so glad you’re here. Good luck out there, bravely facing all that breaks your heart.
Love,
Sophie
Speaking of process and practice and habits: I am doing a new Cleaver workshop this month on newsletter writing. If you’re interested in exploring this Substack space, come join! I think it will be fun. It’s $60 and comes with a video recording plus one-on-one coaching. Sign up here! Description below.
Tired of submitting your work and getting rejected, or not hearing back at all? Want to build a self-publishing practice on your own terms? In this interactive workshop, you’ll learn how to create, grow, and monetize a successful email newsletter using Substack. Sophie Lucido Johnson, the creator of “You Are Doing A Good Enough Job,” will guide you through the essentials of building a newsletter that not only captivates readers but also generates revenue. With thousands of subscribers and a thriving community, Sophie brings her expertise and experience to help you turn your newsletter dreams into reality.
Loose Thoughts
My daughter is really into Halloween and has been since, gosh, April. Now Halloween items are starting to creep into the store (pun always intended; I’m never not intending to use a pun), and I am struggling because how much stuff is appropriate to buy her? Like, there’s so much absolute crap that is $1 and is made in a horrible and unethical way that she would go GAGA for, but I need to limit myself. What is the right amount of surprises to bring home from Target, where I have to go anyway to buy snacks for the student journalists?
The toy I wanted most as a child was a dollhouse. You?
Tomato leaf is really having a smell moment, isn’t it? I keep seeing tomato scented things, or at least hearing about them on my myriad podcasts. You go, tomato-the-smell!
Also, this morning my tummy felt sick so I watched a whole bunch of trailers for movies and found them mostly disappointing, except for this totally bananas one for an A24 horror-comedy(?) called Y2K. Telling Jess about the trailer led me to go on a rant about how people make fun of Y2K too much, and how many steps were taken to prevent the disaster that it could’ve spelled. Feel free to go off on me about this. It is one of my most controversial opinions, but I’m sticking by it.
What is the right luggage, you know?
One year I painted every bird in North America, and I look at the painting when I’m writing sometimes and wonder how I have gone this whole time without ever seeing a red-footed booby. IT EXISTS. WHY DON’T WE TALK ABOUT IT MORE.
School has started and I continue to really love the company of teenagers. Every year I wonder if I am going to stop loving young people because I will be getting too old, but I just generally think it’s amazing to hang out with people who have a lot of hopes and dreams and are feeling curious and creative about how the world could be different, and better.
Also, I am glad that the style is huge, oversized clothing again. I can do that.
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I think when I don’t write things it’s because I expect someone will come along and say “your writing made me sad,” so I sort of procrastinate to get away from the fear of it actually being finished
I find out with my job and parenting I had to rethink the whole concept of consistency. I joined writing accountability groups, which gives me three hours every week to do some writing. Sometimes that’s all the time I get, but it moves projects forward.
(Also if T is still taking long naps shortening them might help. I dreaded losing naps but now that my kid is five and doesn’t take them anymore, bedtime is much more consistent.)