I have a soundtrack in mind, and it goes like this:
1. Adiemus track 1 – Karl Jenkins
2. Revenge of the Sith track 9 – John Williams
3. Adiemus track 6 – Karl Jenkins
4. Last Samurai track 10 - Hanz Zimmer
5. Hero track 8 - Tan Dun
6. Adiemus II track 8 - Karl Jenkins
This list is not complete, nor is it a dodgy compilation or "listmania". These tracks are actually currently on my laptop – a mere click away if I need them. And sometimes, my writing does.
I don’t necessarily listen to them to bend my writing will, nor to fashion my prose to any rhythm (except during battle scenes – I write these with the same aggression as a galley-slave pulling the oars to the pounding beat of the drum). If my headphones are being worn while I write, or the stereo is erupting with musical filigree, then it’s usually because there are distractions elsewhere.
And every writer knows, distraction is the killer of good prose…
And every writer knows, distraction is the killer of good prose…
How I deal with distraction
I write for lunch...
I write for lunch because I need to, I love to, and if I didn’t I would be using up my lunch-break in HMV, Virgin or Waterstones spending all my money on DVDs, CDs and books. I know I would – you only need to look at my collection of the former to see that I am quite the addict.
But the main reason – the real reason – is that I don’t have much time to write these days, and writing on my lunch-break is ideal. Except for the distractions.
My office environment is not such that there are people yelling, screaming, laughing like baboons nor anything like that. It’s no library, but it’s not terribly noisy. Yet I will still slip on a pair of headphones while I bash out a 1,000 words in my half hour lunch break – listening to the aforementioned tracks or anything else that is not too intrusive.
Wearing my headphones is a statement of intent, or as one Far Side cartoon says “How Nature tells you to stay away”. Like the cat with the standing-up fur, the dog baring its teeth, or the grinning and dribbling lunatic with a shotgun and rolling eyes - wearing my headphones is a clear sign to tell everyone “Matt is writing. Do not approach.”
Of course, it doesn’t always work. Sometimes a staff member might stand to the side of my desk for a few minutes, not realising what I’m doing before trying to get my attention with a cursory wave. To which I will remove my headphones, look at them with disdain and they’ll generally say “Oh… sorry. Are you on your lunch?”
But the main reason – the real reason – is that I don’t have much time to write these days, and writing on my lunch-break is ideal. Except for the distractions.
My office environment is not such that there are people yelling, screaming, laughing like baboons nor anything like that. It’s no library, but it’s not terribly noisy. Yet I will still slip on a pair of headphones while I bash out a 1,000 words in my half hour lunch break – listening to the aforementioned tracks or anything else that is not too intrusive.
Wearing my headphones is a statement of intent, or as one Far Side cartoon says “How Nature tells you to stay away”. Like the cat with the standing-up fur, the dog baring its teeth, or the grinning and dribbling lunatic with a shotgun and rolling eyes - wearing my headphones is a clear sign to tell everyone “Matt is writing. Do not approach.”
Of course, it doesn’t always work. Sometimes a staff member might stand to the side of my desk for a few minutes, not realising what I’m doing before trying to get my attention with a cursory wave. To which I will remove my headphones, look at them with disdain and they’ll generally say “Oh… sorry. Are you on your lunch?”
I guess then, I have to bury the urge to bury my laptop in their face, but usually a quick few words along the lines of “come back in 30 mins” will do it – and then I’m back to my writing.
I’m lucky that I can re-immerse myself in my imagination within a few minutes – like having an instant hot bath on demand. But the music helps – and because of circumstance it has become an integral role in my writing.
I usually listen to classical music (songs are too intrusive – have you ever tried writing prose with U2 in the background? It’s quite maddening you know!). It also becomes familiar, a trigger for me to switch off my mundane life and sink into another world – in the current case, a 19th century swashbuckling world of vampires and demons.
I think if I suffered from the problem many writers feel – the inability to switch off the real world and get into the momentum of writing again – my books would never be written. For me, the method of coping with a slight distraction has conditioned this writer into coping with any distraction.
Well, almost any.
When your brain wants one thing, and your imagination wants something else
Travel in time with me to a couple of weeks ago and my visit to St Andrew’s school. If I may, I will plunder another question posed to me by one of their bright kids. He too was a writer and asked how I coped with having so many ideas for books.
“Doesn’t it get a bit distracting?” he asked.
“Very,” I replied.
At least once a month, perhaps even twice, I develop an idea for a new book that is so vivid and attractive my imagination starts jumping up and down with the words (in a high-pitched and squeaky voice) “Write me! Write me!”
And it is tempting.
Especially when you’re on the third or fourth draft and you’ve done the lion’s share of the creative process, left only with mechanical and self-critical task of trimming your prose – or editing to the extreme i.e. “killing your baby”. This is the most destructive part of writing, and your imagination is hardly used. Feeling neglected during this phase of the process, it is of no surprise that your imagination will do anything to lure you away from what you should be doing and embarking on a completely new project – to give that creative muscle a good ol’ workout. It’s a distraction that not even Karl Jenkins, nor any other form of music can cure.
So, going back to that aspiring writer at St Andrew’s, another question was asked on the back of the first:
“How do you stop yourself from writing something new?”
My reply was messy, convoluted and if I had thought about it longer, I would have replied with one word: “Discipline.”
A writer’s world revolves around discipline. Sorry... I should say, a serious writer’s world revolves around discipline, because if you really want to write – the desire to construct the beautiful word is like fire in your veins – then you need to have discipline.
I’m lucky that I can re-immerse myself in my imagination within a few minutes – like having an instant hot bath on demand. But the music helps – and because of circumstance it has become an integral role in my writing.
I usually listen to classical music (songs are too intrusive – have you ever tried writing prose with U2 in the background? It’s quite maddening you know!). It also becomes familiar, a trigger for me to switch off my mundane life and sink into another world – in the current case, a 19th century swashbuckling world of vampires and demons.
I think if I suffered from the problem many writers feel – the inability to switch off the real world and get into the momentum of writing again – my books would never be written. For me, the method of coping with a slight distraction has conditioned this writer into coping with any distraction.
Well, almost any.
When your brain wants one thing, and your imagination wants something else
Travel in time with me to a couple of weeks ago and my visit to St Andrew’s school. If I may, I will plunder another question posed to me by one of their bright kids. He too was a writer and asked how I coped with having so many ideas for books.
“Doesn’t it get a bit distracting?” he asked.
“Very,” I replied.
At least once a month, perhaps even twice, I develop an idea for a new book that is so vivid and attractive my imagination starts jumping up and down with the words (in a high-pitched and squeaky voice) “Write me! Write me!”
And it is tempting.
Especially when you’re on the third or fourth draft and you’ve done the lion’s share of the creative process, left only with mechanical and self-critical task of trimming your prose – or editing to the extreme i.e. “killing your baby”. This is the most destructive part of writing, and your imagination is hardly used. Feeling neglected during this phase of the process, it is of no surprise that your imagination will do anything to lure you away from what you should be doing and embarking on a completely new project – to give that creative muscle a good ol’ workout. It’s a distraction that not even Karl Jenkins, nor any other form of music can cure.
So, going back to that aspiring writer at St Andrew’s, another question was asked on the back of the first:
“How do you stop yourself from writing something new?”
My reply was messy, convoluted and if I had thought about it longer, I would have replied with one word: “Discipline.”
A writer’s world revolves around discipline. Sorry... I should say, a serious writer’s world revolves around discipline, because if you really want to write – the desire to construct the beautiful word is like fire in your veins – then you need to have discipline.
Often a writer forces themselves to sit down and write even when there are more appealing things to do. I myself on occasion will nail my backside to the chair and write – especially when the day outside is sunny and warm while the workplace is in shadow and cool.
But discipline isn’t just about forcing yourself to write. It’s also about forcing yourself to write the right thing. Sometimes when a problem looks so great, it’s appealing to take the easier route – to start something new, and possibly inferior. But writing isn’t meant to be easy – if it is, you’re probably not doing it right! A contentious statement, I know – but look at this way – if writing is so easy, you’re probably not challenging yourself enough. You’re not getting the most of your writing and could do better.
That’s the way I look at my writing – and discipline keeps me focused on the immediate problem – even when a fresh idea comes marching through the door with a broad grin, a bottle of wine and maybe the leprechaun-promise of a pot of gold at the end.
When that guest does come through the door, I lock them away in the cellar of my imagination. In tangible terms, I might spend twenty minutes or so writing down the idea in brief and then putting it in an “ideas” folder where it might sit for years and years and years. Until I bring it out, think about it some more, and then begin the whole writing process again.
But discipline isn’t just about forcing yourself to write. It’s also about forcing yourself to write the right thing. Sometimes when a problem looks so great, it’s appealing to take the easier route – to start something new, and possibly inferior. But writing isn’t meant to be easy – if it is, you’re probably not doing it right! A contentious statement, I know – but look at this way – if writing is so easy, you’re probably not challenging yourself enough. You’re not getting the most of your writing and could do better.
That’s the way I look at my writing – and discipline keeps me focused on the immediate problem – even when a fresh idea comes marching through the door with a broad grin, a bottle of wine and maybe the leprechaun-promise of a pot of gold at the end.
When that guest does come through the door, I lock them away in the cellar of my imagination. In tangible terms, I might spend twenty minutes or so writing down the idea in brief and then putting it in an “ideas” folder where it might sit for years and years and years. Until I bring it out, think about it some more, and then begin the whole writing process again.
The way I see it, if the idea is a good one, it can wait. If it turns out to be a crap one, then I haven’t distracted myself too much and have lost nothing. Not the momentum, nor the time I could have wasted.
In fact I would even go as far as saying sitting on an idea is a good way of fermenting it – and perhaps charging into one without much thought is the road to folly. I have several notebooks and folders of ideas, and if I had been seduced by each one, I would have never completed a single novel. And some ideas I have are rubbish. Some are a waste of time.
And for a writer who writes for lunch, wasting time is a unwelcome distraction.
Final thoughts
And I guess that’s it for the moment. As David Isaak has pointed out in his blog – the last three “How I…” blog entries have been keeping me from my writing – another distraction, but a short term one. And so I must exercise that very same discipline and have a short blogging break (after all, the last three entries have been around 4,500 words in total).
I won’t be gone for long though…
Promise.
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