“Writing practice is like making bread!” I’d said, though I wasn’t sure at the time why I’d said it.
It started while I was making bread, I’d gotten a message that my turn to post here on our blog was fast approaching. I don’t know how you deal with, or feel about deadlines. For me there is a combined sense of excitement … and of dread.
I don’t share this here much, but I have ADHD. Deadlines are the enemy of many of my people. I don’t suffer as badly as many others with ADHD do when faced with deadlines, no two of us are the same. For some of my clan, approaching a good solid deadline is like trying to shove the north poles of two strong magnets together.They usually end up veering off to one side or the other.
How do I deal with them?
For me, I usually forget that the deadline is there pretty quickly and, if I’m interested in the task, I’m able to put my head down and carry on.
Sadly, sometimes, deadlines come and go while I cultivate a sort of holistic attitude toward them, relying on the feeling that it might be getting close and I’ll check on it, maybe tomorrow. This has prompted me to wholeheartedly agree with the humorous observation, “I love deadlines, I absolutely adore the whooshing sound they make as they go by.”
But mostly, as observed above, I manage to get my work done, and handed in to the powers that be just at the time it is needed.
The experience of writing with a deadline …
The way things work for me when I am actually writing is still fairly holistic. And not in a healthy, Zen sort of “good for the spirit” kind of way, but more of a Dirk Gently sort of approach to it all where I just assume things will work out, and they usually do.
So I write with a sort of cavalier air and a mystic approach, holding on to the required end word count like a mantra being repeated in a corner of my mind, and saying what I need to say as I go along, relying on my inner editor to decide whether I’m being too verbose or too succinct, and finishing up what I have to say when I’m done saying it.
Usually the word count falls in pretty close, which does nothing to disabuse me of the idea that this is a valid way to work.
And the writing part?
The part about “saying what I need to say” is mechanical. It’s just a matter of reading over what I’ve written thus far and determining the next things required, the next word, the next sentence, paragraph, whatever.
The other tribe I belong to other than people with ADHD, is the tribe of writers. Like people with ADHD, no two writers are the same. So don’t assume that my way of writing will be some sort of road map for you. But don’t scoff it off either.
The proof is in the dough
Writing really is like making bread, now that I think about it. It’s mixing words together, watching how they are getting along, just like mixing yeast, sugar, water and flour together and paying attention to the feel and texture of the mix.
Letting dough rise is called “proofing.” If it doesn’t rise well enough, or if it rises too much, something’s wrong. When you’ve mixed your words together and are going over them to see if they will rise to the occasion, we call that proof reading. Sound familiar? I wonder why that is?
It’s true that making bread doesn’t take as long for most people as writing an article or blog post. And a novella or book obviously takes much longer. But when the finished product comes to the counter and you open the pages and realize you’ve accomplished something to be proud of, that tastes pretty damned good.
Let’s toast to that, shall we?
So though we all write differently, and some people might find writing my way causes them fear, we can all agree that there is a reason we write.
We all have something to say, and we all want it said clearly and concisely.
So let’s have at it, shall we? Let’s let those stories rise.
