Yesterday I described noticing a new feeling in my body during my zero-drafting, and that when I examined that feeling I discovered it was distrust. I wasn't trusting the quality of either the content or the prose in my zero drafts. Yesterday I explored the significance of not trusting the content. Today I'll talk about not trusting the prose.
It's interesting to note that I teach the zero-drafting process as one in which you can set prose quality and even grammar aside. You can fix all those issues in edits and rewrites. And yet I discover that I'm worried that by following that process, I'm producing inferior work.
Isn't that strange? What am I therefore not seeing?
I think, first of all, that I'm comparing myself subconsciously to the literature that taught me to love writing. That's an honest enough mistake; we all seek to emulate our heroes. Nevertheless, once I noticed it, I had to point out to myself: I'm not writing literature. This is not a novel, nor is it meant to be. Fiction and non-fiction have different goals and different ways of achieving them. Here, I'm trying to offer something immediately valuable from my recent experiences, to say it clearly and concisely, and to say it publicly, on a set schedule.
I mustn't underestimate just how important that last point is.
There's no need to make simple things complicated. Right now, the place where I am stretching, where I am seeking improvement, isn't so much in the sentences themselves. I'm not asserting that there isn't plenty of room for improvement, but I have done enough writing that I've achieved a certain level of competency. Most of the time, I can just write and trust that when the words flow quickly and cleanly, my years of practice are ensuring that I'm writing with clarity and maybe even a bit of music. I've developed some technique over the years. What's the value of technique if you can't trust it?
I admit it appeals to my ego to write in the equivalent of switch double-cork 1080s fifteen feet above the rim of the half-pipe, but sometimes the right choice is to just carve smooth esses to the bottom of the slope. I forget sometimes that there's a beauty in effectiveness and simplicity.
Where I have held back, where I haven't pushed myself, is in getting the work out there. I'm still committed to publishing every Monday through Friday, and that's still plenty hard for me. I've found a bunch of ways to procrastinate so far this week. That says I'm scared, still. So here is where I most need to improve. Here is where I need to develop my technique. This is the place where I'm at my limits.
I felt my ego relax a little when I told it, "Let simple things be simple. Dig deeper when it's necessary. Trust that you've put in the hours to be able to tell the difference."