guest post by Megan clark
Just think of what could happen if we all become a little more self-serving, a little more hedonistic in our writing.
This summer I got stuck in my revisions for my agent. Making edits was like swimming through molasses: slow and difficult. It was at times paralyzing.
When I get stuck like that I remind myself of something that constantly proves to be true: I have to input in order to output.
So I turned to one of my favorite sources of input: comedian podcasts.
But instead of just filling my need for good creative content, two of them back to back hit me over the head, shifted the way I was approaching my work, and effectively helped me to get unstuck.
First was Lisa Kudrow talking to Conan O’Brien about how they both learned the hard way that landing the big part and getting famous wasn’t going to make them happy. Kudrow said that early in her career when she was surviving off of ramen noodles, she had believed that if she got famous–that if everyone loved her–she’d finally give herself permission to love herself. That it would change everything.
Thankfully she was in therapy and moved past that belief, but she and Conan discussed how they had watched so many friends never learn the lesson that satisfaction and self love and happiness had to come from somewhere else. It had to come from the process. It had to come from internal validation, not external. It couldn’t come down to an audience response.
The very next day I listened to Stephen Merchant talking to Mike Birbiglia about the wild, zero-budget experiment that became The Office (OG British version). Merchant was working for the BBC and was supposed to be helping to film a real documentary, but something fell through. He asked if he could make a fake one while he had the film crew for the day and they allowed it. He and Ricky Gervais made the pilot with no cash and by fully throwing themselves into an idea that they found hilarious and never expected to be anything.
When Mike asked Merchant what he’d say to people just getting started writing scripts or making films, Merchant said that you’ll never be as creatively free as you are in that time before you’re doing things under contract. He said he was jealous of people who were in that stage because you’re doing things because you have the drive and ambition. Because it excites you. Not because someone’s waiting on it.
These two things swirled around in my brain and made me realize that a large part of why I was stuck was because I, like Lisa Kudrow, had fallen into the misbelief that if I got an agent, that external validation was going to make everything easier. I was going to trust myself implicitly. I was going to have new energy for the work. I was going to move forward with confidence.
Y’all, guess what? That didn’t happen. I was still the writer I’d always been who battled self doubt and trusting her intuition. Yes, getting that yes from an agent was huge and wonderful, but when the celebration was over, the work was still a conversation between my brain and the page. Having an agent isn’t some type of brain rewiring magic.
In addition to that, I was suddenly very conscious of my book’s audience and who was expecting it. I felt the pressure of owing great revisions to my agent. I felt the pressure of leveling up the book so that editors would want it. I had lost that sense of creative freedom Stephen Merchant talked about and was much more concerned about “getting it right.”
No wonder I was barely getting things done.
And I bet you can relate. As writers we’re always looking to the next step and the next audience, whether that’s beta readers, agents, editors, or general readers. And while those audiences are important, if we think of nothing else, we stop doing it to please ourselves and start doing it only to please others.
That’s when we lose momentum. Because it’s no longer doing that thing it did for us at first: indulging our creator selves.
So, this is what I’m doing now: when I sit down to work, I no longer let myself think of who is going to see it next. I think about how the book works for ME.
Does this scene do what I need it to do?
Is the tension up to my standards?
Does that phrasing make me happy?
That mindset is so much more propulsive than one crushed by the weight of expectation. And before you think that giving into self-indulgence will spoil your work, how about you trust yourself instead? Our standards for ourselves are high, that’s why writing is such a struggle!
Just think of what could happen if we all become a little more self-serving, a little more hedonistic in our writing.
Could it unlock scenes that have stagnated for weeks? Could it get us back to that story idea we filed away because it was too ambitious or wild? Would we return to the page more often because it feels more fun and less intimidating?
If you feel excited by this approach try this:
Go to a page, scene, or chapter that has been a struggle for you. Give it a quick read.
Now, imagine the section did exactly what YOU wanted it to. Don’t think of anyone else’s opinion.
How does the scene look in your perfect imagining of it? Does it have more gore? More sexual tension? More beautiful interiority? Does a dagger become an ancient sword? Does a hushed argument become something louder? Brainstorm for 5-7 minutes.
What would the self-indulgent version of your creator-self do to rework that section? Write for 5-7 minutes, allowing yourself to move into actual revision if you feel called and have the time.
Have fun. This writing and reimagining is for you and you alone. Enjoy!
Megan Clark is a romance writer and voracious romance reader. When not plotting how to torture her own characters, she’s a content marketer and journalist. She’s a hiker, knitter, and, above all, believer in writing as a hopeful act.