Spanking out the Novel
Do writers really need discipline?
One for writers this week, and the creatively curious. If you’re looking for more dysfunctional family tales like The Penis in the Pate, hang in there, I’ve got something on the hob.
“I wish I had the discipline,” says themuckster64, when I say I’ve finalised the manuscript of novel number three and I’ve got the next lined up ready to leave the starting block.
“I wish I had the discipline” is a common response when you say you’ve written a book or two. Or you write a weekly Substack. Or whatever the hell it is that requires you to sit in a chair for a few hours every day doing what you love more than anything in the world.
Let me tell you, it is not discipline. Novels don’t get written with discipline. What, you think I smack myself to my desk every morning, dragging my feet, overriding every urge to run?
Okay, maybe just a little. There’s a lot of fear involved in writing, at times. At some point during each of my novels so far, I’ve had mornings, sometimes week after week of mornings, where I just wanted to run away screaming. One of these mornings is described in my most recent Secret Diary Club.
But it wasn’t discipline that made me finish writing Devotion or The Marlowe Papers. Not once. I’m the very opposite of the kind of person who responds to ‘discipline’. Punish me, and I’ll find even more reasons to piss you off because I’m rebellious like that (and by ‘you,’ I mean, in this instance, me). I’ll do the donkey work for carrot, not stick. Start beating me, and I’ll dig my heels in. Call it the natural response to being smacked as a child for reasons I didn’t understand.
Yeah, alright, I know you don’t mean that kind of discipline. And yet that’s the association the word dredges up. And isn’t that, in fact, what we’re talking about, emotionally speaking? Beating ourselves up? Do you beat yourself up for ‘not having discipline’? If you punish yourself for something you’re not doing, don’t be surprised if you avoid it even more. That thing (e.g. the book) gets associated in your mind with feeling bad.
I don’t get things written because of ‘discipline’. I come back to writing, again and again, because it’s at the centre of my being. I cannot not do it. I write something, even if it’s only my journal, because otherwise I start to fray at the edges. Probably because, long ago in childhood, I set it up as a survival mechanism. However, if it’s a book I’m writing, even the survival mechanism gets scary, because of the exposure at the end of the process. And sometimes, because of the pain of the process itself.
One time, when the writing of Devotion was getting sticky, I attended someone else’s book launch. I unwisely had conversations about my difficulties. Someone, no doubt intending to be sympathetic, suggested if the book was that much trouble, I should ditch it. On the way home, slightly inebriated (free wine is not this writer’s best friend) I decided, as I was crossing the concourse of Victoria station, that they were right. There was nothing for it. It was too hard. I had to abandon it.
The emotion that rose up in response almost floored me. The mere thought of abandoning that book pricked me to tears, letting me know immediately that I couldn’t. I just had to work through the fear.
There is always a lot of fear in the commitment of a book. What if no one likes it? What if it’s rubbish? What if the whole thing has been a monumental waste of time? The book I’ve just completed has been my focus for the best part of a decade and it doesn’t get much more monumental than that. I’m happy to say that all the fear surrounding it dissolved in mid-2022, and it never got as bad as with Devotion. But for many, many mornings, fear was waiting for me when I got to my desk.
Elizabeth Gilbert writes about this. About the book being a journey, and Fear trying to take the steering wheel. She writes about a process where you simply accept Fear as a travelling companion but ask it kindly to sit in the back and be a passenger while you drive. You don’t get to kick Fear out of the car, though. It comes along for the ride. Fear is just a fact of writing for an audience, and you’d better get used to it.
When people say they don’t have the discipline to write a book, what they usually mean is they’re afraid it won’t go the way they hope, so it’s easier to keep it perfect in their head and not write it at all. An unwritten book remains a pristine concept. You can fantasise about how amazing it will be. Once it’s out on the page, it’s going to stare you in the face with all its flaws and imperfections. You fear this, you fear being faced with something mediocre, or even bad, when you’d imagined it brilliant. Best not to ruin your perfect idea by actually writing it.
But that’s first drafts for you. Best to bash it out no matter what shape it takes, remembering you have endless scope for redrafting. And if you’re excited enough about the story you’re telling, you’ll keep at it. Keep rewriting until the flaws start disappearing. Ditch whole chapters or paragraphs that clunk. Change up cliches for freshness. Snip out words that aren’t serving the story. Polish your sentences until the shine of them smacks you in the face.
Sorry. It seems to be Violent Metaphor Week.
In the meantime, accept that fear is a normal part of the writing process. Make friends with it. Say,
“Hello fear, nice to see you again. Take a seat (in the back, and maybe put some earbuds in and listen to some soothing music, and maybe an eyemask, and have a snooze, so you don’t start shouting directions or panicking every time I take a corner on the narrow winding road of a sentence.”
Don’t beat yourself for not ‘having discipline’. That’s like a small child coming to you and saying they’re afraid of the dark and you giving them a good spanking. (Metaphor only: when it comes to a child, there is no such thing as a ‘good spanking’).
Yes, you might need to put some structure in place to aid your regular writing practice. I have some habits to keep my ADHD in check and stop me descending into chaos. Thirty-minute pomodoros so that if I go scampering down a rabbit hole, I won’t get lost. Wearing pretty much the same thing every day (Steve Jobs-style) so I don’t wear out my brain with decision fatigue. A morning routine that I largely stick to (journal, tap, meditate, yoga). Reserving 9am to 1pm for writing.
But is it this ‘discipline’ (aka structure) that gets books written? No. It’s a passion for what I am writing about, enough to get excited and move the fear out of the way.
Into the back seat.
Maybe with a sick bag.
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Roundup of things I’ve enjoyed on Substack:
Just one *really* juicy one this week, which has more cock-euphemisms per inch than anything else I’ve read:
’s solution to the dreaded scourge of modern times, Dick Pics: A Solution to the Unsolicited Salami. Even if you never get sent dick pics, just read it for the linguistic frivolity.Since last week I have:
Set up a brand new Substack, all about Kit Marlowe. I know! I am very excited about it. If you love that 16th-century bad boy, come and join me there for plenty of juicy free Kit content.
Had a 3-day headache, induced by thoughtlessly clearing down my inbox from my sofa on Monday evening. Tech-neck is infuriating. I’ve done so well with it recently, I forgot to pay attention.
Made some progress on a non-fiction book proposal.
Celebrated my son’s engagement. MY SON GOT ENGAGED (see note of the week).
Note of the week
Full note with a pic of the ring is here. Now if my other offspring would like to come up with heartwarming transformation stories we’ll be cooking!
Over to you
How do you feel about ‘discipline’ (careful, this is a public forum!)
Were you spanked as a child?
Is fear keeping you from doing something creative?
I think about ‘structure’ instead of discipline even though they can serve similar purposes. I have ASD and I LOVE structure but I don’t like being told what to do AT ALL (ie discipline).
I was never spanked as a child by my parents although I was once caned by the headmaster at junior school (yes! I know) for pissing in a cup that was already in the urinal. Show me a 7 year old boy who would choose not to piss in a cup in front of him. That headmaster is dead now although I’d like to make it clear I had nothing to do with that
Well, there are some disturbing images of spanking.
My siblings were spanked a lot, but as a 'good girl' who was 'No trouble at all' I escaped it, except once.
I wanted a skipping rope with wooden handles, and whilst shopping with my mum in Woolworths, she bought me the wrong kind. I starting crying, and couldn't stop, so she 'gave me something to cry about'. Round the back of Woolworths, knickers down, totally humiliating. Then boasted for years to come that she only had to smack me once in my childhood. Because I was f***in terrified of the humiliation.
By the way, I stopped being a 'good girl' eventually, and caused lots of trouble.