Bite-Sized To-Dos for Writers

I'm obsessive about not wasting time. Whether on hold, in line or waiting for a bus, I always have something productive at hand to do. Before I became a writer, I was already creating two-column to-do lists. One column would have the traditional tasks and appointments of the day. The other would list what I call "interstitial" work -- things that can be done, or at least reach a stopping point, in 15 minutes or less.

Some people automatically fill those slivers of time with worthwhile activities. They sing or daydream or say a prayer or make observations or read a few pages of a book. I seem to need a longer list with activities that add up to help achieve my larger goals. Not surprisingly, most of what's on my list now is aimed at writing, and using such a list is one of the primary ways I boost my productivity. What's on my list?

• Small business tasks - I can complete a simple invoice for freelance writing in less than 15 minutes, using older invoices as templates. I can research a new market or answer a client's question. (I keep questions that take a little thought in a queue rather than refer to email. For me, email and social media can be a time suck, and I prefer to schedule my interactions with them.)
• Brainstorming - I like generating lists of ten (or twenty). Ten blog ideas. Ten ways my character can escape a prison cell. Ten things I love about my novel. Most of what's on such lists is useless, but pushing for more leads to pleasant surprises.
• Outlining - For smaller work, like writing this blog, all I need is a blank index card. For building on the outline of a novel, I usually need to be carrying a card that lists the pivotal scenes so I can fill in ideas that fit in between.
• Sorting - When ideas tumble out, they often are not it the most effective order. It only takes a few minutes to take a list of obstacles a character faces and organize them according to what is at risk. (This helps me ensure I am constantly raising the stakes so readers get hooked.) With essays, I organize the arguments so the second most compelling notion comes first and the most compelling concludes the piece.
• Character interviews - The best way for me to get to know a character is to have a conversation. I carry lists of characters and questions with me to the garage or doctor's office and take advantage of those times to interrogate them.
• Mechanical rewriting - This is the less creative work, such as getting rid of junk words and ferreting out all the spelling mistakes and grammatical errors. Re-conceiving scenes or polishing prose is likely to need more dedicated time.

Most of these activities are self-limiting and can be broken off without much damage. When I have something critical coming up -- a call with a client at an agreed to time -- I set a timer so I don't get lost in the activity. Also, I take care to file interstitial work properly. There is nothing worse than believing you have solved a plot problem and not being able to track down the slip of paper holds all the answers.

Note that these tasks are "writerly" activities. They don't contribute directly to adding pages to your manuscript. I never count these activities toward my daily writing goals, even though I am aware that they make an impact.

Do you have small tasks you get done during fragments of time? What would you put on your own "interstitial" list?

The Disrupted Writer - Fast recovery

Your planning is perfect. You've mastered distractions. You're writing every day. Then life gets in the way.

Writers are not immune to financial concerns, the ache of romance gone wrong, the agony of a child with serious illness, or the shock and grief of a death in the family. If they were, they would not have the experiences they need to move readers.

Disruptions happen. They are beyond your control. But how do you deal with them? I have already written about Reentering the Interrupted Story and how listing Ten Reasons to Love Your Story can reignite your passion for your manuscript. Either of these might suggest strategies you can use to get back into writing when you are disrupted. But there are other approaches (and perhaps you have a few to share?).

Let's take the bad effects of disruption one by one and look at what you might do:

• You're delayed - Here there is a difference between a five-minute phone call and a three-hour stay in the emergency room. The more severe the delay, the more a challenge it will be to your discipline. Go back to your plan, even if you do not have time to complete it. Add some words to your manuscript as soon as it is possible.
• Echoes distract you - Even after a disruption is over, the situation may continue to run through your mind, or you may be overcome by the emotions. Acknowledge that the disruption is not necessarily over when you return to your writing desk, and it may need more time that you suspect. But replaying the situation may not be useful. In those cases, try doing something to transition yourself. You might, for instance, write a letter to one of your characters about what you just went through (and then write their response).
• Your idea falls apart - Is there anything more frustrating? Sometimes the structures your minds produce are exquisitely delicate and they evaporate with a knock on the door. Taking a deep breath to dispel the natural distress is the best first step. The next is to begin reconstructing immediately, even if you can only snatch at fragments. Like dreams, these concepts get harder to bring back with time. If it still feels like a complete loss, forget reconstruction and get to work immediately on something different.
•  You lose your enthusiasm or confidence - I sometimes thing being a writer or taking on a challenging work is a spell cast upon me, and an interruption can break that spell. Sometimes, coming back from this is just a matter of using the Reentering or Ten Reasons approaches noted above, but sometimes I need a pep talk or "proof" or a new attitude that gives me permission to work on a "lousy" project or do a lousy job. Okay. Tomorrow, things will be better.

Of course, a disruption may be so big it becomes the new normal. If you lose your job, it will take time to secure a new one. If your house burns down, you can't move back in a day later. In many cases, getting back to work will mean recommitting in the face of what your life is, as opposed to what you still believe it should be. (Which is not to say that you should "get on with it" immediately. Major life events are owed their time. You can't rush through the equivalent of Kübler-Ross's Five Stages of Grief without paying a price.)

Once you recommit to your writing, you need to reassess the work in terms of who you are now. Life events have a way of changing priorities. Finally, you need to rework your plans to reflect time available, opportunities, new options, and changing processes.

Overall, your response to disruptions is within your control. You only become derailed for a long period of time if you allow yourself to be. Sometimes, your recovery will be slow and begin with small things. Sometimes, you'll find a way to jump back in with more energy and commitment than ever before. I think of Ray Bradbury, who said that a day without writing was a little death. He lived this sentiment, when, after a disastrous stroke that left him unable to type, he began dictating stories as soon as he was physically able to.  If you are determined to write, nothing can stop you.

Post Mortem for a Writing Project

What went right? What went wrong?

In the lab and later in consulting, I was taught the value of looking over a project when I completed it. Asking a series of specific questions after finishing a work of prose (novel, short story, article, script, speech) can also be valuable, and it is a great way to gain efficiencies that will help you be more productive.

When you do a post mortem presents interesting choices. I like to do them after I've sent a manuscript into the world, when there is potential for a check coming back. But you can do a post mortem just before you submit it to a critique group or when you decide to shelve it or when you decide it should be shredded.

A good post mortem starts with the question at the top of this post. Begin with the positive, so you don't fall into a guilt spiral. Even the most disastrous work has some successes, and it is easy to forget them unless you intentionally call them out. On the other hand, what went wrong may be driven by the actions of someone else, but you can always look to yourself for a deeper understanding of where you may have let the wrong person in too soon, pressed the wrong button, or signed up to work with the wrong people.

Beyond these general questions, here are the specific ones I use when I do a post mortem.

• Was this project worth my time? Did I make the right choice in taking it on? I have at times become enamored with a second rate idea. At other times, I've accepted an assignment that was a drudgery. Bad choices in both cases (except the time I did a tedious assignment at ten times my normal rate).
• Did I succeed in what I intended to do? Did I explain something, illustrate a theme, create an emotion, or bring a fascinating character to life?
• Did I succeed in bringing the ten things I love most to my audience? (I always list the things that make me passionate about a project before I begin it, and often as a step along the way. I'll write more about this in a future post.)
• Did I find a practice I should adopt or did I vary a current practice in an interesting way? This is often where my process book gets a new entry or a reliable process gets retuned so it becomes more effective. It was a post mortem that added text to speech as a part of my regular proofing process.
• Did I learn a new skill? Did I try something new? You don't get better if you don't put into practice what you learn and find opportunities to stretch. One of the hardest things I did was write a novel from a single point of view. All the energy I got from switching between different characters and leaving them in cliffhanger situation was gone and I had to find new ways to build tension -- ways that have served me well since.
• Did I go off course? Sometimes a yes here means I wasted time -- time I might save in the future. Sometimes going off course is a good thing.
• Did I leave something undone or underdone? No poem is finished, it's abandoned, right? If I had more time, what would I work on and why?
• Was I the right person to do this project? A tough but necessary question. There are many works I admire that I would make a hash of.
• Is there an aspect that I'm not ready to do yet? On the other hand, if I keep at this writing thing, I may be able to write scenes and arguments that are currently beyond my grasp. I met a writer who, every year or so, wrote from the point of view of a black man. (He is white.) These attempts ended up in a drawer. Then I read a story where he pulled it off brilliantly. He had developed empathy and knowledge because of many years of trying.
• Did I improve as a writer? I hope the answer is always yes. Truthfully, it isn't. But I keep asking.

These questions represent a mix that leads to positive and negative answers, and answers that probe the art, the craft, and the professional processes. Together, they encourage me to grow and learn. I write the answers, and I take a hard look at what I've written. This work doesn't count as my writing for the day, but it is essential to my productivity.

Have you ever done a post mortem of a writing project? Has it helped? Do you use different questions?

Draft 6 - Swept Away

Words come. Rushing. Tumbling. In a torrent that seems to have no end. Two odd pieces fit together for something new, or a character begins to chatter, or a vivid dream sweeps you out of this world and into a land of wonder.

Congratulations. This is a good thing, and it can become the basis for a work you and your readers will cherish. You may capture all there is in detailed notes or you may end up writing complete scenes. Either is fine.

But you are cheating on your work in progress. Assuming you have prepared for the day’s writing with details on what you intend to write, do you still have the commitment? Will you honor the promise you made to yourself the day before? Will you have anything left to offer?

Professional writers complete their work. They meet their deadlines. And even after a luscious detour with a strange and wonderful new story, they go back to the familiar work they have invested in and do the job. They may stray, but they come back.

They are well aware of the professional risks story promiscuity represents. Most pros chased infatuation after infatuation when they were beginners. And, if they were writing articles and short stories, they could get away with it. But, being drawn away from a book-length work is serious. This is especially true when you are writing the middle when the prose it ugly, the story arc is showing cracks, and the manuscript seems like a mistake. Tempting new stories seek out authors during those desperate times and lure them in.

There is nothing fundamentally wrong with being swept away and dallying with the new story for a while, but promiscuous habits can lead to a series of uncompleted works and unfulfilled promises. Infatuations burn out, and people who do not take a professional approach end up with piles of unfinished manuscripts.

Go ahead. Indulge yourself. But keep you promises. Finish your book.

Writing Buddies

Most people write more if they are held accountable.  The simplest approach to this is to get someone to regularly ask, "How many words have you written [today, this week, this month]?" This resembles the Weight Watchers weigh in, providing a public declaration that others can respond to (it is hoped, with encouragement). There are online versions of this, most notably through the NaNoWriMo community.

Checking in regularly with a writing parole officer is just what some people need, but some may need to reach higher. For one thing, by just providing a number, it is too easy to cheat. It is too tempting to include what Kristan Higgins calls "writerly things" (think blog entries or notes to editors – instead of things that are words bringing the story forward) in the word count. The words could be on a side project instead of the main work. Or the words could be notes on the story, character sketches or even an estimate of what the writer wrote in his/her head and just needs to get onto paper.

Having a writing buddy makes this sort of cheating less likely because the words themselves need to be turned in. This helps with productivity both because the work is hard to dodge and because quality becomes a factor.

There are other payoffs as well. Encouragement comes at a higher level because the work can now be referred to directly (wonderful description, clever use of metaphor). It also becomes possible to have discussions that include advice, explorations of material, answers to questions and specific feedback.

Just having someone else reading the work – which is driven in part by the need to communicate – has a salutary effect. Along the way, there is real companionship from someone who understands. Writing can be a lonely business, so such a relationship can be invaluable. Besides, you know that when you finish, someone with real investment in the material will be there to say congratulations.

All this, of course, depends on having the right writing buddy. Having someone who is unreliable, working on a different level, negative or doesn't "get" what you write can be actively harmful. With that in mind, here are some criteria for a writing buddy:

• Find someone who is about at the same level. Since you are reading and providing feedback for them, a person who is working at a lower level is likely to be frustrating and less helpful.  Mentee/mentor relationships have their own charm and value, but they are not the same as the writing buddy relationship.
• Their output should be similar and they should be reliable. A big asymmetry in workload can feel unfair. Delays in reading and feedback can become an excuse for writing less.
• Having similar goals may also be important. For instance, a person determined to self-publish might be annoyed by a commercially focused buddy who fulfils genre requirements when they "should" just tell their story. In the other direction, a commercial writer might be insulted when suggestions to add a few elements or cut a scene to fit a market are ignored by someone committed to self-publishing.
• Mutual respect and trust are essential. This may develop over time, but both buddies need to avoid any violations. A typical problem is a caustic comment. When this is direct, it's bad enough. When it is made to a third party, it's disastrous. When it is made to a third party and the manuscript is shared with that person, the writing relationship (if not the friendship) is probably dead.
• While there is a need for candor, writing buddies need to keep their criticism positive, generous and supportive. At least in early critiques, it is wise not to point out more than three concerns. The good work needs to be explicitly noted and praised. And overall, any critique must come across as helpful and encouraging.
• A writing buddy should be a natural audience for your work. They need to enjoy and respect your genre and your style. If they don't "get it" the criticism becomes mechanical at best, scathing at worst. This problem should be evident early in the relationship, but it can even happen with a good writing buddy when a new work takes a different direction. In those circumstances, the writing buddy needs to explain the concern early on (and this honesty needs to be appreciated without argument).
• There should be good "chemistry" between the buddies. I don't know how to explain this, but, when you are in the situation, you'll know if it's there or not.
• Ultimately, critiques need to be expressed in ways that are helpful. This does not mean that a buddy's prescriptions need to be complete, clear and actionable. Most suggestions on how to fix writing aren't quite right. But the concerns need to be expressed, in most cases, well enough so a second look is productive.

Having the right writing buddy can become a springboard for more productive writing – both for you and for your buddy. This can be a great benefit in achieving your goals. It also can provide a reward in the enormous pride you'll feel when your buddy succeeds, too. Maybe you'll even get a thank you in the book.

Copyright © 2012 Peter Andrews

Writing Prep 5 - Distraction Number One, Husband Interruptus

I wonder if kids still put "Keep Out" signs on their doors. They had a certain vogue in my house when I was growing up after a TV kid displayed one. During one of my teaching gigs, a swarm of female students claimed that the biggest distraction to their writing was the spouse who did not understand that sitting quietly in front of a keyboard did not equal an invitation to chat or an indication that she had idle time in need of a task. (Can you fix me a snack?)

The problem was quickly termed "husband interruptus," and I went to my crack team of writing colleagues for answers. These included:

• arsenic (but that seems like overkill) 

• leave the house and go to the library, Panera Bread or Starbucks
• 
lock yourself in the potty
• rent him a movie he's been wanting to see and then put it on for him
• headphones
• give him a notebook with the heading: Things to ask wife in an hour
• try to fix something" (i.e., with a hammer or crowbar, guaranteed to hurt more than help) and let the super handy hubby get to work (works best with controlling type-A personalities)

I suspect, with slight modifications, these can also help with wife interruptus, children interruptus, roommate interruptus, and pet interruptus.

How do you protect your writing time? How do you keep the people in your life from stealing precious minutes at the keyboard?

Confidence and Joy - Kafka was a riot at parties

Sorry for those writers who identify with the anxious, tortured Franz Kafka, but his friends told biographers that he was fun, a great conversationalist and a quick with. His humor bleeds through in his stories, if you're paying attention.

And I think, even though he didn't sell much during his lifetime and he asked that all his papers be burned (they weren't), he had a good sense of his own worth as a writer. He rushed in, wrote in an eccentric voice, took on his worst demons, and triumphed. And by triumphed I mean he got the work done, and I strongly suspect this gave him joy and built his confidence.

Confidence when you sit down to write and joy when you finish a manuscript are what drive the life of a writer. More than money and fame and publication. In fact, money, fame, and publication without confidence in your talent and a sense of accomplishment can actually stop (or corrupt) your writing. Think of Ralph Ellison and Harper Lee. Or the many stories about Hollywood destroying writers. Or Salinger hiding in his fortress (though there are rumors of books hidden away there).

Don't let this happen to you. Remember the first time  you eagerly sat down to write a story that burned within you and seemed to fill pages effortlessly? And how great you felt when you wrote "The End"? I hope you still have that confidence and joy everyday because it is jet fuel for the writing experience.

But maybe not. Part of the confidence and joy came from a lack of perspective in your early years. If your parents teachers and friends loved your story, chances are that it was not greeted by editors with the same enthusiasm. Reality checks can grind away at confidence and crush the joy. Sell something, even a book that becomes a bestseller, and the trolls will come out to point out glitches, call the work derivative, and make vulgar comments. Authors live in a public space filled with people who have high expectations, the need to pull someone down, and absolute clear views of your faults.

To have a writing career, you need to maintain the confidence and hang onto the joy despite this. Here are a few suggestions.

• Surround yourself with supportive people.
• Don't let doubters read your stuff. (If possible, don't let them know you write.)
• Don't feed the trolls.
• Promise yourself celebrations when you succeed, and keep those promises.
• Don't read negative reviews.
• Created and keep things around that remind you of accomplishments. (I keep a portfolio of work I'm proud of, check off what I complete, and somewhere have a nice note from Michael Crichton about a speech I wrote.)

It is up to you to find ways to maintain your confidence and to allow yourself joy. Dedicate a portion of your creativity to coming up with specific actions that will support your outlook on writing. Then follow through on them.

Oh, and it is okay to create an angst-ridden persona. It might even be good marketing, but you'll have to avoid putting a lampshade on your head at parties.

What about you? How do you provide yourself with the positive emotions that fuel productive writing?

NOTE: This blog is one month old today. I'm having terrific fun, and I appreciate having so many readers. Thank you.

How to Stop Dithering

Dithering - I have a positive talent for it that only became obvious when I started writing seriously. In school, I plunged into homework assignments without hesitation. On the job, I worked my way through the day's to-do list without hesitation. With my writing?

• I had a great dream. Maybe I should get that on paper.
• Should I go back to that suspense story? Maybe I've let that character problem sit long enough.
• Ooh! That reminds me. I've got notes for a great new SF premise.
• etc.

It's great to have a lot of ideas and to be eager to get to work on something. But no one I know has mastered typing on more story at once (though there is an apocryphal story of Napoleon writing a letter with each hand while engaging in a conversation). A writing career caught between two or more projects will starve.

Making a decision is the answer. My practice is to decide the day before, and I usually like to do this at the end of the day, when my body is reminding me of how much work writing is. I am much too ambitious in the morning. If I can't decide, I go to my criteria - due dates, my passion for a project, how clear the job is, whether I have a breakthrough idea, and so on. I have even been known to score out or force rank the next day's work. I'll do anything to get a specific writing task at the top of the next day's to-do list. Because otherwise I know that I am at risk of dithering.

And, if I had any doubts about my talent for dithering, they were resolved a few years ago when I discovered the phenomenon of micro-dithering. Here's what happened:

I was well into writing a novel, so there was no question of which novel I'd work on. I had a big scene coming up, so I dutifully wrote down my task, finishing that scene, for the next day. I even knew how the scene was supposed to end. But the next day when I sat down to write, my brain started generating questions. About the character, about the setting, and about what I'd already written three chapters before. Notes were made. Web searches were done. Minutes ticked by. The day was -- unproductive.

This happened several times before I realized what was going on. The cure for me was to schedule the next day even more tightly and to turn off the wi-fi before I even started my writing. On reflection, the reason I fell into micro-dithering that first time was because of fear. I was drafting a scene that was painful and emotional for my character -- and for me. Inside, I knew that the experience would be unpleasant and the execution would be difficult and liable to fail. No wonder I couldn't commit. Dithering can be a "kid in a candy store"phenomenon, where it is difficult to choose between attractive alternatives, but it is more likely to happen because you don't want to put your hand on a hot stove.

How do you stop dithering (and micro-dithering)? I commit to the task, specifically, the day before. I don't want my brain to have any wiggle room. Another good practice is to enable yourself by anticipating what you will need the next day -- in terms of research, review of a previously written chapter, character descriptions, etc. -- and have it all prepared and at hand. But the most important way to avoid dithering may be understanding its root cause for you and countering that cause. You may need to write down what you fear and put it into perspective. You may need to talk yourself into torturing a character you love. You may need to gird your loins for a battle with your personal demons. 

“Whatever you do, or dream you can, begin it. Boldness has genius and power and magic in it.”
-  Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Does your work suffer because of dithering? How do you fight back?

My Achin' Back!

Physical disability and writing often go hand-in-hand. Flannery O'Connor suffered from severe arthritis. Homer was blind. Stephen Hawking produces his books word-by-word despite his decades of suffering from ALS. One of my wife's friends can only work by lying under a glass coffee table, viewing her text as it hovers above her.

One of the reasons why I left the lab to become a writer was because I couldn't imagine myself hoisting buckets of saline solution in a cold room at 3 AM all my life. It didn't seem like something I could do indefinitely, while writing did not appear to be physically taxing. But now I know that many writers suffer work-related back problems, carpal tunnel injury, and neck and shoulder stiffness.

I have an object lesson early in my career, when a colleague first wiped out her hands with excessive typing, and then, after she switched to voice recognition, soon talked herself hoarse. When I reset my writing goals to 10,000 words a week, I immediately bought Dragon Dictate, and I have rigorously kept to a standard of half typing, half dictating. So I've had no difficulties with typing or talking.

But, as I have been intensified my efforts, I've found that I am not immune to shoulder and neck problems. These cut into my productivity, so I have become religious about pausing every 40 to 60 minutes to go through a series of stretches. I'm also becoming more aware of my posture, and, as I work, I usually keep a bolster behind my back and I shift its position frequently.

I think everyone needs to come up with the routine that fits him or her best. One person I know sits on a large exercise ball instead of a chair. Another walks a treadmill as she writes. I was intrigued to discover that Walter Murch, when he edits film, does his work standing. This probably began, of necessity, when he was working with mechanical editing machines, but he carried the practice forward into computer use with the claim that it impacted the quality of the work. I found this especially intriguing since, with no special intent at all, I often edit speeches by printing them out, putting them onto a clipboard, and marking them up as I pace around the office.

So, with the idea that a healthy writer is a more productive writer, what do you do to treat yourself well as you write? And do you think it has any impact on the character of your stories, articles, or books?

Don't Dream It; Be It

Last month, I made the decision to become a full-time, independent writer. Now, this was not as harrowing a decision as the one I made many years ago to leave the chemistry lab to become a writer at a non-profit. After all, it is a lot easier to go back to writing for a paycheck than it is to reenter scientific work after stepping away. And I have a lot of evidence now that people will pay me for putting words on paper.

Nevertheless, my move is not without some risk (and the stress of the transition has put me into physical therapy). The spontaneous smiles are accompanied by moments of doubt. Following your passion is good advice, but that path doesn't lead you into a land of rainbows and unicorns. How, then, does one take the advice of Dr. Frank-N-Furter? Don't be it; dream it?

• Know what you want. For me, a day that mixes fiction and nonfiction, that includes both writing and rewriting, that allows me to complete projects that never had enough time, is almost enough. I just have to enough money to pay most of the bills.
• Believe you can do it. Yes, every creative person has doubts, but can you construct a list of capabilities and accomplishments that makes the case that you are ready to take a leap? I can't prove that I will write bestselling novels, but I can provide a strong case that I can create prose people will pay for. Think in terms of putting together a portfolio for investors. Could you show the clippings, contracts, credits and samples that would make a case for yourself?
• Have a realistic timeframe. How long do you expect to wait until you see evidence of success? Until you achieve specific goals, such as getting an agent, making as much money as you spend? Getting contracts that carry you into the future? Many creative people underestimate how long they need to achieve their goals, and that builds disappointment and anxiety. Make you best guess for each goal, and add in (50%) extra time.
• Stay away from doubters. Bradbury was big on this. Over and over again, he told writers to cut loose any friends and associates who sowed seeds of doubt or flat out told them they couldn't do it. He was on to something. Some people have a perverse need to crush dreams. And their continuous streams of advice will echo in your mind when your own doubts rise up. It is especially important that the people you are closest to can support your choice in at least a limited way (say, for the length of your timeframe).

What if you fail? For some people, this can be devastating. It need not be, if have supporters around you. Small and even large failures do not need to stop you. They do not need to kill your dream. But they may cause you to modify your dream. If you learn your lessons along the way, you may even end up with dreams that are more satisfying to you. You need to be the right dream, not an imaginary dream. So make the mid-course correction and carry on.

Up Your Productivity

Welcome to “How to Write FAST.” The intent of this blog is to increase your productivity as a writer, whether you write articles, scripts, short stories, novels or blogs.

There are as many reasons why people want to increase their productivity as there are why people write. Bloggers may want to post frequently enough to attract an audience. Journalists may need to deliver copy on deadline. Genre novelists may need to produce enough to keep editors and agents happy. Academics may be facing “publish or perish.”

I began to learn how to write more quickly when I took a job as a radio producer. I was responsible for three radio programs every week, and the work included research, taped and edited interviews, sound effects, and recording with a voice talent. The stories also had to be cleared by the interviewee, which sometimes meant rewriting. A year into that job, I found that I was writing three times faster than I had been. I didn’t have much choice. If I didn’t write the copy in a timely way, the stations that carried us would have to rerun an old show. (It had happened to my predecessor, and that was one of the reasons I got the job.)

What do you mean by fast? Really, anyone can write quickly. The trick is to write more productively. That is, you don’t want to simply put more words on paper. You want to get more of your manuscript done for each hour of work.

To get faster, I first needed to understand where I slowed (or stopped) myself. The first limit was attitude. All the myths around having just the right setting or being inspired held me back. I’ve heard that Salman Rushdie, before the fatwa the turned him into a fugitive, needed to have everything exactly right before he could sit down and do his day’s writing. If a pencil was out of place, the day was ruined. But as he moved from safe house to safe house, he found he could write in the midst of chaos.

Doesn’t fast mean lousy? It can, if you lower your standards for final copy. So don’t do that.

You’ve heard Voltaire’s “the perfect is the enemy of the good”? He was on to something. Another problem I had as a beginning writer was the concern that I would blemish the page with unworthy prose. I had to get over that. A mentor of mine, Damon Knight, gave the best advice: “It’s not a watercolor.”

Whatever you write can be fixed. It can be made better. But you can only improve something that exists, so you need to get something onto the page. Giving yourself permission to write a paragraph that stinks or a chapter that will be discarded or a novel that requires several revisions is part of becoming more productive. Nothing you write needs to be shared. And, until it is published (or, at least until it is in galleys), you can polish, tune and edit.

So productivity can take a hit before you start writing, as you draft and as you rewrite. No step in the process is immune from obstacles that can slow or even stop your progress.

And no one’s challenges are the same. Some people struggle to put themselves in front of the keyboard, but they sail through rewrites. Some people write every day, but make no progress. And some people can spin off first drafts by the dozen, but they can never quite get their manuscript revised.

This blog will look at each stage and offer advice, tips and exercises to help you improve your productivity. It’s almost a sure bet that you’ll find some posts are more valuable than others because of what you need now and where you are in your writer’s journey. My hope is that, overall, you will build that knowledge and skills you need to reach your productivity goals and achieve the success you desire as a writer.