Are you writing 'enough'? Why you should stop assessing your work on someone else's subjective criteria for 'good' art
Good morning from a damp-soggy and grey Oxfordshire. This post is coming live from my sofa while my dog pokes his stuffed squid at me, squeaking it so I'll give in and throw it. If only I could train him to do this so that it makes me write every day. How good would that be?
Today, I will (hypocritically) be making the case for writing MORE - every day if you can. Since running the Ignite Course and writing a flash fiction every day in November, I’ve become more convinced than ever that I need to keep it up, but for different reasons than I’ve been told.
What I’ve been told…
If, like me, you've come across these studies in many books, then feel free to skip this section.
In James Clear's Atomic Habits and the book Art and Fear, (and many more places) they present a study where two groups of artist are asked to produce artwork on a theme. One group are told they will be marked on one piece (its quality), and the second group will be marked on how much they create (quantity). The 'quantity’ group always produced better artwork. The takeaway?
What they tell you? Group 2 are practicing their craft rather than getting stuck, and so get better than the group who get stuck on perfectionism and theory.
The Observer Effect
Many of us have spent our whole lives being measured: exams, scales, expectations. We live in a society that likes to compare us, hold us up to the microscope. We’re all trying to optimise ourselves and improve ourselves (or should I say ‘prove ourselves’) and we aren’t really that conscious of it.
What I discovered about writing every day is that the quality of the writing didn’t matter so much if I was focused on writing for its own sake. How much I wrote didn’t matter so much. If I have a bad day, sometimes a good story still comes out it. If I have a bad story, then… so what? There was yesterday’s, and there will be tomorrow’s.
The studies about ‘quality vs quantity’ actually show that we perform better when we aren't being 'assessed' on abstract and subjective criteria for our art.
It’s a point that’s often missed.
It’s like the ‘observer effect’ in physics. When a situation is observed, it changes it. When we are ‘assessed’ doing art, then it changes it. When we write for each piece to be published or read, it changes how we create.
When I am not writing often, then the time I spend writing becomes more precious. Then a pressure asserts itself on me. A weight of expectation to make the time ‘count’ because it’s my only time… I have less patience with myself because I have less time. So I get frustrated easily or overwhelmed. If I’m lucky, and this pressure is not too high, I can still write or make something. But if I do, then that story becomes more precious than it should because it’s all I have to work with. So I become reluctant to part with the story, to let it be one that didn’t ‘cut it’.
“There’s generally no good reason why others should care about most of any one artist’s work. The function of the overwhelming majority of your artwork is simply to teach you how to make the small fraction of your artwork that soars.”
Art & Fear: Observations On The Perils (And Rewards) of Artmaking by David Bayles and Ted Orland.
Focus on writing for writing’s sake
It helps to focus on 'doing' the art first, rather than get stuck on how it will be perceived. The more we do and enjoy the process, the less we labour over it. No matter how good a story is or isn’t, it never feels like a waste.
“One of the basic and difficult lessons every artist must learn is that even the failed pieces are essential.” Art & Fear: Observations On The Perils (And Rewards) of Artmaking by David Bayles and Ted Orland.
Not everything we create will be fit for purpose. There might be stepping-stone stories. But the more we write, the less pressure each writing session has. If your writing time becomes so precious it barely occurs except on a blue moon, with a top hat on, and your special fountain pen, then you'll be reluctant to let go of any stories that didn't work…. That’s if you write anything at all.
What can we do about it? How can we get ourselves to write more often?
Our brains feed off of a reward system. They make us crave the thing we want to do (for good or for bad), which is why we often chase publication and being read. But how can we get ourselves to crave the journey of writing every day and not the outcome that we have little control over?
‘We chase rewards because they serve two purposes: (1) they satisfy us and (2) they teach us.’ James Clear, Atomic Habits
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