I hated writing before I unearthed this ancient technique

Believe it or not, but I’ve always hated writing. If war is hell, creating trashy magazine stories is purgatory. Writing is a long expanse of mental strain and boredom, at the end of which you’re either lifted into the light or, more likely, plunged further into darkness. Many writers feel the same way. The most common explanation for continuing in the profession is that we hold no other employable skills. The second most common explanation is that while they hate writing, they love people reading their mahi. I can relate to both of those reasons. What often goes unspoken, is that the feeling of satisfaction I get after writing lasts roughly four seconds before it's quickly replaced by the anxiety of next week's deadline.  

This cycle of short lived relief and self-loathing has been my reality throughout the first eight issues of Massive. But, just last week when writing the most mundane of stories (that never made it to print) I discovered a trick that dampened the pain. While I was working on this story, my mind refused to formulate sentences. My fingers were left hovering over my crumby keyboard, waiting for a neuron of direction that was never coming. In an act of desperation, I turned to the cob-web ladened notepad and thought “I can write on that”. 

This was a life-changing epiphany. Online my process is stiflingly slow. After a couple of sentences are written my mental resources are completely exhausted. This forces me to spend the next 30 minutes testing out various procrastination techniques. Once mustering the energy to return to my doc, I’ll painstakingly edit the terrible words stupid me stupidly typed out. 

On paper, everything is different. I write what comes to my mind, cross it out, then rewrite it. I scribble out a paragraph, decide it needs to go elsewhere in the story, then draw arrows to that position. If something needs to be added I place an asterisk on the page and write it in the margin. The end product is trash, but it's an invigorating process that shows me the creative journey my words have taken.  

Writing by hand can help bypass that inner critic. It also helps that it’s much harder to edit on the page than on a Word doc, as the ease of editing on a computer allows a writer’s inner critic to assert itself, and strangle their more easygoing creative self. In short, for people like me, writing by hand is a way of tricking our brains into ignoring the self-loathing that taunts us at every turn.  

For all the aspiring writers reading, take a hasty trip to Whitcoulls. Dash past the literature you only wish you could write, and pick up a trusty red 1B5 Warwick exercise book (or Warehouse Stationery if you’re feeling risky). Writing in that book may be less efficient when you’re facing a tight deadline, or writing a shorter article like this one, which, in a slice of bitter irony, I wrote entirely on a computer. This ancient technique won’t stop writing being hard or time-consuming. But if you’re facing a blank page, and the thought of filling it makes you shiver with dread, writing by hand does make part of the process a bit more manageable. 

Chur,

Mason