"Without discipline talent is useless" - and other crappy writers' advice you can happily dispense with [summer journaling Club week 3]

Kia ora my fellow thieves,

I write this from my conservatory overlooking Parirua. It's barely dawn and it's hectic out there. Tūī dive bombing each other, starlings strutting on the fence, blackbirds stepping out the sparrows. I spotted my neighbour brushing his teeth when he emerged onto his balcony and had to stop myself from shouting and waving, so thrilling was it to spot another human at this time of the day.

Fuckit. I'll be honest. I didn't feel like writing today. I should have started this blog yesterday but it felt like work, and if writing feels like work of course I don't want to do it. The reasons are predictable: the stress of moving, Christmas fatigue, and the old creep of self-doubt (all these hacks are just obvious and what do even have to offer that's original?)

One thing I've learned about writing even when I don't want to is that it has nothing to do with discipline:

To suggest that writing is just a matter of discipline ('it's easy! just sit down and open a vein!') is colonial logic at its conventional best. I mean, not only is writing actually hard, but failure to subject yourself to the pain of it, if the white fathers are to be believed, is the reason you aren't successful and never will be.

This kind of shite would be laughable if we didn't deep down believe it so easily. Yes, writing is hard. But there are So Many Reasons people cannot keep going or find the will or time or emotional (let alone physical) spaciousness to begin.

Writing, like therapy, is a privilege. It's a fucking privilege! It requires time, it requires resources, it requires self-belief and just the right amount of external validation (not too much, not too little). Mantras that fail to acknowledge the unequal distribution of benefits and opportunities serves the gatekeepers and guardians of power. Think of all the stories that have never been told. Think of all your own unfinished drafts, abandoned journals, half-formed plot-ideas. Are we really going to subscribe to the belief that it's just laziness and a lack of internal fortitude and obedience holding you back as opposed to, oh, I dunno, actual structures of oppression? Ugh. Flock off.

Journaling is an art form that does, at times, require us to write when we really don't want to. I know from experience that some of the best writing emerges from these conditions. It's no doubt why 'discipline' has taken such a hold on the writer's psyche. But I didn't stick it out because I'm a masochist who believes punishment is its own reward. I stuck it out it because, 90% of the time, I'd made a commitment to someone else. Whether a commission, a contract, this blog, or my summer poetry group, it turns out I'm far more motivated towards community than I am towards my own gratification.

Make no mistake: books get written because editors have deadlines and publishers have schedules. Discipline? Sure, sure. The same kind of discipline you need to show up and go to work every day. In other words, the kind of discipline that isn't really about discipline but about lack of choice and necessity.

For everyone else, we have to work with what we've got. Not all of us can quit the job/do the degree/win the grant/get the contract. That's why I strenuously recommend forming an in-real-life journaling club ['journaling club' less threatening and more inclusive than 'writers circle', if you think names matter, which I do.]

The one thing the "traditional" writing path offers that we can ALL have for free at any time also happens to be the most powerful: community. Community equals connection (the often unacknowledged fuel of the literary world), but far more importantly, it's just harder to let others down than it is to let yourself down. 'Commitment' then, is a much better word for writers than discipline:

If there's any hack, it's to remember that we don't write alone. Even if we're physically by ourselves, we're always writing towards something or someone. Just as my neighbour cleaning his teeth on the balcony reminded me this morning, we write with the environment, as part of it, and as an expression and reflection of it.

This entire post is an example of something that would never have been written, if not for this community.

What to Journal: Intellectual Hacks