Is Patience Really Necessary?
As I near the end of my current novel revision, I’ve been feeling impatient to reach the finish line—the “finish line,” in this case, being a new draft that I’m happy with and that I feel comfortable sending into the world. But, wow, says the first-time novelist, writing a novel sure is a lot of work!
This revision (it has many predecessors) has involved cutting over 20,000 words and rewriting about 100 pages in addition to editing the rest of it. I’m all about numerical accountability and tracking progress, so cutting the 20,000+ words was doable (even enjoyable!) because it was measurable. But the bigger goal is to make the draft as good as possible, which has less to do with numbers and more to do with feeling it out.
A few months into the chaos that is “feeling it out,” I hit that super fun state of OhMyGodWhenWillThisEverBeDone? I found myself revising quickly just to get through pages and cramming editing time into every nook and cranny of my already-busy days. I became frustrated, tired, tense. I wanted to be done.
I was impatient, a feeling not at all conducive to creativity.
Sometimes I think about my writing practice in terms of how I teach piano. Most piano students, of any age, at some point, try to “perform” music without having learned it. It goes like this: you get excited about a piece, you [believe you] basically know how it goes, so you just go for it—but since you haven’t really practiced it, what comes out is a lot of wrong notes. “Think before you play” is a sentence I find myself repeating daily. It seems simple enough, but it’s amazing how often students play notes without first figuring out what those notes are supposed to be.
I caught myself doing the same thing in my novel revision. I was “revising” passages before really knowing what those passages were supposed to be. I had to pause, take a step back, and do the thinking.
The creative process can’t be rushed, and sometimes it’s difficult to feel comfortable with the daily state of unfinishedness. I thought if I found the right inspirational words (or the right calming crystals to keep on my desk), I might have an easier time being patient.
I attended a virtual craft talk on novel-writing by the inimitable Deb Olin Unferth, who joked about writers who think completing the first draft means they’re halfway to the end. I reread parts of Zen in the Art of Archery, in which Eugen Herrigel writes, “Steep is the way to mastery.” I also reread Ray Bradbury’s words in his related Zen in the Art of Writing essay:
Now, while I have you here before my platform, what words shall I whip forth painted in red letters ten feet tall?
WORK.
That’s the first one.
RELAXATION.
That’s the second.
(“Work, giving us experience,” Bradbury explains, “results in new confidence and eventually in relaxation.”)
These are helpful ideas to keep in mind, but they’re not specifically about patience. In fact, I couldn’t really find any words about patience with the creative process. So, I went to the dictionary:
Patience (n): the capacity to accept or tolerate delay, trouble, or suffering without getting angry or upset
Oh, dear!
Did I really start viewing the process of writing a novel—the creative work I hope to do every day—as “suffering”? Did my goal become “tolerating” my own creative process?
I realized that patience wasn’t really what I was looking for, and maybe this explained why no other writers seemed interested in it. What I actually wanted was to feel present, fulfilled, and, as Bradbury emphasizes, relaxed. There was a reason I turned to books with “zen” in the title. “Patience” implies waiting around for something, but you’re not waiting if you’re working.
This week, I’m remembering the words I tell my impatient piano students: The goal is not to master the piece; it’s only to spend some quality time with it today. And—the wild part—my revision is now heading towards the finish line much faster than it was when I only wanted it to be done.
To repurpose the words of Louisa May Alcott, “Be worthy, love, and love will come.”
Here’s more writing advice from the great Ray Bradbury.
Also, Deb Olin Unferth’s Barn 8 is one of the best novels I’ve read in a long time.
And, okay, yes, patience does matter. This article has some tips if you’re hoping to increase yours.
Read more Wild Minds posts here.