This week’s Rejecting Rejection with Jen White is all about figuring out what to do with our so-called “Black-Dogs”. White reminds us that even though you might be a writer, writing is never easy. Happy Monday from The Writing Barn!! Have a good week everyone.
How to Make Friends with your Black Dog
By Jen White
Ernest Hemmingway said, “We are all apprentices in a craft where no one ever becomes a master.” Did you hear that? No one ever becomes a master. What kind of masochists are we? Who would ever choose a profession that you couldn’t eventually master? Writers, that’s who. We’re an odd, yet strangely optimistic group when it comes to our craft. But there are a few self inflicted rejections one must conquer to become a writer.
First, you must admit that you want to write. Second, you must admit that you can write. Third, you must admit that writing is hard.
Number three, the writing is hard,part? That’s a doozy. After I sold my first book, I thought that the difficult part was over. Now that I was a “real writer” everything would be easy because I had a book contract, and an agent, and an editor, and hopefully, an audience. Writing should be as simple as eating a sleeve of Oreos while watching an episode of Downton Abbey, right? Nope. Writing is hard every time I sit down to do it. Every time.
Winston Churchill described his self doubt (what many would later call perhaps his battle with depression) as his “black dog”. But somehow Churchill was able to put
his black dog to work. “His creative-depressive personality meant that writing (or painting, or bricklaying) was a way of keeping the “black dog” of depression at bay. He wrote for that sensation of release that comes with…writing 2,000 words a day.”
In folklore the black dog is a premonition of death. In dreams, a black dog generally represents fear or anxiety. I, too, have a black dog, especially when it comes to my writing. I can give it many names: internal rejection, my inner critic, or worry and despair, but whatever I call it, they all live under the same guise as my black dog. And when I say dog, I do not mean some cute, cuddly, toy poodle. I mean a big, scary canine (picture the one from Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, Sirus Black’s animagus). He growls and bites and tells me I have no business writing a To Do list, let alone an entire book. That kind of dog is no one’s friend, unless we can put him to work. Here are ways I try to keep my black dog at bay:
I have fun. The old adage, “All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy,” is especially true for me, and for other writers I know. If I sit down to write and there is nothing there, like I am completely exhausted and depleted, then I know I need to change course. I take some time off. I go to the beach. I learn something new. I start an inspired project which doesn’t include writing. Don’t forget creative minds need to recharge.
Sometimes I cry. Crying is great. Okay, maybe not great. But sometimes I need a good cry and then I feel much better. I’ll read a sad book. Watch a sad movie. Or I’ll just wallow in my black dog, sad feelings, for a little bit. I find that if I don’t let myself feel my despair, then it stays with me for much longer than if I just let it come and get it over with.
I read a book I love. Reading makes me happy; I think that’s partially why I became a writer. I reread books I love, or begin something new. Reading also gives me ideas for my own writing. It makes me feel like I can do it. Reading makes me feel like all is right in the world and all things are possible.
I go outside. Writing is solitary and confining. After working under a tight deadline or spending most of my time in front of a computer screen, I need to leave my house. A walk around my neighborhood does wonders for my spirits and my imagination.
I surround myself with good people who love and believe in me. The older I get, the more I realize I do not have time for people who suck the life and love out of me. Life is hard. I don’t need negative people who make my life harder. I’m getting really good at saying, “No,” and, “Go away.” (I sound friendly, right?)
I get to work. Sometimes the black dog who hounds me is my lack of preparation. Maybe I haven’t been reaching my word count goals. Maybe I haven’t had a chance to do the research that I wanted. Maybe I have been neglecting the business side of writing. If this is the case, I make myself sit down and do it. Anne Lamott said a great thing: “I don’t usually count on inspiration in my work. I count on the belief that if I show up, keep my butt in the chair, hold a potato gun to my head, and make myself sit there, something writerish will happen. I’ll get some words down on paper, or on the screen. They will suck.” (Emphasis added).
Yep, sometimes all my words suck. Actually usually, they do. But between the sucky and the exceptional, something sort of great happens. I write a book! A good book, even. I write it despite of, and maybe because of, the growling dog sitting on my lap, breathing its doggy breath in my face. Perhaps I should give internal rejection a nice cheery welcome because, in my experience, he’s here to stay. I might as well play nice and throw him some milk bones and a doggy bed, because even though Ernest Hemmingway said we may never master writing, I would like to pretend that I can, at the very least, master my black dog.
P.S. And if I have still left you with nothing, nada. If nothing I said was helpful, or maybe even if it was, spend 7 minutes and watch this, about creativity and rejection.
Author Bio: Jen White is the debut author of the forth coming middle grade novel, SURVIVAL STRATEGIES OF THE ALMOST BRAVE, FSG/Macmillan (June 2015). She has a BA in English and English Teaching. She earned her MFA in writing for children and young adults from Vermont College of Fine Arts. Jen makes her home with her husband and five children in Southern California.