Iterating for Complete Itiots.

 I'm writing the fourth or fifth draft of a picture book. Suddenly it's starting to come together, starting to feel like a real story, like I actually know what I'm doing. The big lesson for me over the past decade I've spent doing this professionally is to trust the process: every draft is a step in the right direction; if it stinks you just haven't done enough drafts, yet.

Don't get irate, iterate.
What I love about iterating, about knowing I'm working on a draft which will be followed by another (and another), is that it takes the pressure off me to get it right. All I need to be doing is moving, working, writing -- any progress is a product of that, the new ideas that bring a project to life come from sitting with the thing and doing the work. (This is something that I think is missing from the various AI shortcuts people have been promoting to me, lately: if you spend a minute putting a prompt into a chatbot you'll get a minute's-worth of your own ideas; spend hours doing it yourself and you'll get a whole lot more -- it's basically the same principle as steeping a tea bag.)

When I'm iterating I'm not a sculptor removing all the bits of marble that aren't my perfect statue, what I'm working with is something more like a hunk of clay that I can keep reworking till I create something pleasing enough that I want to tidy it up and keep it. Like you, like everyone, I still struggle to sit down and get to work, but a lot less than when I feel the pressure of having to produce something magnificent. When I'm doing creative work I have to basically throw away the idea of efficiency. I have to accept that I'm not doing a straightforward job like digging a hole, where there are a certain number of shovelfuls of dirt that I need to remove and the sooner I get them out of there -- bigger shovel, more umph -- the sooner I'll be done. I don't even know what I'm digging yet! If you come from a blue collar background, like I do, this is not easy, but I do my best to slow down and enjoy the process. I'll work on a sketch till it's more complete than would be absolutely necessary, if I feel like it. Who knows what I'll discover along the way? If I write a scrap of dialogue and suddenly it turns into a lengthy conversation, I'll go along for the ride. A lot of this will get thrown out (inefficient!), but by relaxing, playing along, I might discover something startling and wonderful. It's like looking for diamonds on a foggy day: you can't see them from camp, you have to start walking into the fog and hope you're going in the right direction. There are diamonds out there, scattered around. If you haven't found any then you haven't walked around enough.

A few things I do:
I check to make sure my internal dialogue is positive. I suspect that if I'm having a hard time getting started, if I'm not "inspired", it's because my internal dialogue needs to change from "everyone is going to hate this, I'm no good at this, what's the point?" to "I'm making something I care about, it's worthwhile, (and I must find time to write that Oscars acceptance speech!)".

For the past couple of years I've been writing with pencils and pens on paper as much as I can. I find it much easier to write a first draft, and much easier to resist the urge to cut and paste and begin rearranging already; easier to push through and have a finished draft, which is what I need at this stage. Revising and polishing early drafts is what Lawrence Block unforgettably described as "washing garbage". When it's time to rewrite it's better to actually write it again than it is to cut and paste -- things will change for the better, and it will take longer -- which is good, your tea will be richer! I'm using scissors and tape to assemble parts of this latest draft, and not only is it slow and inefficient (which is good!) it's an utter, absolute joy, like doing an elementary school project.

I put my phone not just out of reach, but out of sight.

Sometimes I set an (analog) timer for 45 minutes or an hour, and during that time I'm not allowed to do anything but work, not even laudable things like write a birthday card to an elderly relative or clean the bathroom (although I can write those things on a list of things to do instead of scrolling social media later today).

And this might be just me, but lately, I've been really liking to put in a pair of earplugs when I work. It's not noisy here, but somehow they help me concentrate and they make a sort of soothing white noise in my ears that's almost like having something to listen to. It's also a nice ritual. Perhaps most of all, it keeps ideas from escaping out my ears, and makes sure the only place they can go is into my writing hand.

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