In my previous note to you, I wrote about how our brains tell us that writing is dangerous, and so, I want to help you and your brain feel safe. Everything I’ve learned about brain science comes from the excellent Dr Sharie Coombes and her children’s books. Sharie says, in her book Keep Calm, that our amygdala is like an over-eager guard dog called Bob.
Bob just wants to keep us safe, but he’s a little daft and very over sensitive. Bob will bark at a leaf falling off a tree with the same level of urgency as if he spots a burglar.
Bob loves you. He wants to protect you. But sometimes, he wakes you up when it’s not necessary. Bob is brilliant, but he’s just the one who raises the alarm. Our job is to train Bob. We get to be the ones who check whether we’re really at risk and we can pat Bob on the head and tell him to go back to sleep.
So… how do we train Bob? It turns out, he likes pears.
The points below are inspired by Atomic Habits by James Clear. But I’m not really interested in making you stick to habits – I want to focus on freeing you from the fear and dread of writing.
How to train your Bob
PEAR stands for Preparation, Ease, Accountability and Rewards. These all help to let Bob (your brain) know that writing is safe. PEAR teaches Bob that even though it might be frightening and might make our nervous system weep, writing is actually OK – nice even. We will not die from writing. Ready to train your Bob?
Firstly, Two disclaimers:
One: If you are dealing with trauma and writing is triggering that please seek professional, tailored support. My advice isn’t meant to replace the essential and important work of healing from trauma or mental illness and I know that rushing headlong into something that is not emotionally and mentally safe will do you no good. Sometimes fear is there because we truly aren’t safe. I want you to be OK.
And, Two: If you think writing is easy and I’m being a bit ridiculous – this post probably isn’t for you, right now. I love that writing is going well for you, but many of us find it hard.
On to the training.
P is for preparation.
Normally, for me, P is for procrastination. I am incredible at finding other things to do instead of write. This is because my mind sees writing as too hard or too scary and so it will put as many obstacles in the way to prevent me from writing. This is why preparation matters – it’s the process of removing those obstacles so that the path to beginning is easier.
Plan when you will write and for how long and put it in your diary. Be realistic.
Get what you need. Is your laptop charged, do you have your nice pen, have you done a wee? It’s amazing how much time I can waste by nipping to the loo or waiting for my writing software to update.
Plan what you will write. If a million decisions are waiting for you when you sit down to write you will either never sit down or you will never write. What project are you working on? Do you know your next step (you don’t need to know all the steps, but do you know what you are writing today?) Do you need to do some research or thinking or chatting with someone before you can actually write? This is such an important step because it stops your writing time from being unproductive and it helps prevent the freeze that comes when you feel stuck. But planning isn’t writing. Do the planning first.
The reason preparation helps Bob is that it puts him at ease – preparation lets your brain know what is happening and it gently lowers you into writing. It also means that when writing time comes, you’re ready for it and you’re not about to be ambushed by feeling stuck with your subject and pressed for time. Preparation can take time and effort – it often takes me months to know what I’m writing before I write. This is all part of the story-making process. But it matters – if I sit down without a clue of what I’m going to write, I feel like I’m about to leap over a precipice. No wonder my brain tells me it’s terrifying.
So, your first step is Preparation.
Next comes ease.
E is for Ease
Ease can be a tricky one for us, because it doesn’t sit well in a culture that tells us that success comes to those who slog and that we should always be pushing ourselves. Ease feels too… easy. And we don’t deserve ease – we’ve wasted enough time. Get to work, feel the burn.
Nonsense. You are precious and brilliant and your words matter. I don’t want your writing to be squeezed out of you before its ready. I want your story to come ripe and lovely in its right time.
What’s the most you’ve ever written in a day?
What’s the least?
Which of those numbers are you closest to at the moment?
For me, the most is about 5000 words a day when I was on a deadline. It was hard and horrible. The least is zero – for many weeks in a row. That was hard and horrible too. I am currently closest to zero – managing up to 500 words a day but often fewer and sometimes zero. So, how much should I be writing? I could tell myself to write 5000 words - after all, I’ve done it before. It’s possible, right? Plus, I’ve not written for so long I actually really need to push myself, I’m so behind. I’ve got so much to do. I need a huge target.
OK, I could do that. But it will hurt me. Like a non-runner trying to run a marathon I will cause myself deep harm, I will give up before I meet the finish line, and then I will swear never to run or write again.
It may well be that your daily target used to be a manageable 1000 words at a time and that felt easy. But we’re not in that place right now. We’re scared and we’re stuck so we’re going to go for ease.
Ease means aiming for more than zero words. It’s not 5000, it’s not 1000 or even 500. But it’s not zero. And zero is what we’ll stick with if we carry on being terrified.
Ease also means writing for less time than you can manage. Maybe 20 minutes of writing seems doable – great, write for 15 minutes. Leave yourself able to do more. If that means setting a timer for 1 minute and writing ‘hello Bob, I’m writing and it’s all OK’, then that is exactly what is right and best for you.
Ease means that you make sure you’re physically comfortable – grab a hot water bottle, a cushion, your glasses – whatever else you require to make writing nice.
You won’t always be doing tiny chunks of writing. But isn’t it great to know, that even on the worst days you can have a writing win? You could write for one minute and that would be enough.
Ease helps Bob because he is certain you’re about to do something incredibly risky. If you pursue difficulty, Bob will have his concerns confirmed and will bark all the louder when you next come to write. On the other hand, if you can show your brain that what you are setting out to do is small, simple and even pleasurable, then Bob is going to be wagging his tail at the thought of writing. Like dog training, we are starting small and doable, knowing that when we master this, building up will come naturally.
Our next training step is accountability.
A is for Accountability
Writing is a solitary business and it can be incredibly lonely. Since starting this newsletter the most common response I’ve had is, ‘I’m so glad I’m not alone’. When we have community we get support and friendship and a taste of the non-shiny normality of writing. We learn of other writers’ challenges, discover their questions and celebrate their wins.
Being alone as a writer can also mean it is really easy to not bother. When no one is coming to check on you it’s so hard to be self motivated. Accountability gives a sense of community, but above all it means you’re making a promise to someone else about your writing. I break my promises to myself all the time. But I keep promises to others.
Find a friend that you can share your plan with and who will check in on you.
Find someone, or a group of people, to meet on zoom and spend 30 minutes writing in silence together.
Have a writing buddy and check in at the start and end of a writing sprint.
If you don’t have anyone to do this with use social media – tell people you’re going to write and post again when you’re done. Or use #createkindling and I’ll cheer you on.
Bob behaves best when someone is watching. That someone must be kind and they must expect good things. Bob loves to please.
I have a friend that I check in with every week day. I don’t think I’d have written a word without her. You’ll like her too. Check out Josie George at Bimblings.
The final trick in our PEAR approach to training our brains is Rewards.
R is for Rewards
Bob loves treats. I love treats.
Let me be clear. We’re not only going to do rewards at the end of writing. I am not patient and if I’m too excited about the reward that’s waiting for me I can’t focus on what I’m meant to be doing and I just jump right to the reward. But also, I think showing up deserves celebration. We’ve got two types of rewards and both should happen before and after you write.
Nervous system rewards: Before and after you write put your hands on your heart, take three deep breaths and say ‘I’m so proud of you’. This might be the worst, most cringy thing you’ve ever heard of, but I promise it’s useful – it helps your body feel calm and your amygdala LOVES reassuring touch and kind words. If this doesn’t chime with you, I get it, but have a go – of course you can choose other words and a self-hug or a little smile can work in the same way.
Sensory rewards: Have a sensory reward as you start – this needs to be quick (we don’t want it to stop you writing) and it needs to have an immediate payoff. Something like lighting a scented candle or switching on an oil diffuser, giving yourself a sweet to suck while you write or putting on your favourite jumper. Doing this tells your body and your mind that you’re doing a good thing – that writing isn’t a punishment you have to live through but a treat in itself. Make this a ritual and, before long, Bob will pavlov it when he smells that candle or tastes the sherbert lemon.
Give yourself a sensory reward at the end – again, something with an immediate hit. A great cup of coffee, a spritz of perfume, a dance to your favourite song. Before you accept your reward remind yourself that you earned it.
Bob loves being rewarded. It lets him know that what you’re doing is lovely and special and fun and so he will eventually learn that writing is wonderful and will be scratching at the door begging to be allowed to sit at your feet while you type.
The PEAR technique can be used every time you write – and I would recommend it. It’s a really positive ritual to help your mind and body be ready for writing. But it is also the best way I know to handle emergency mode – those deeply difficult times when writing is hard and feels too much, too scary, too dangerous.
Give it a try and let me know how you feel. Let me know in the comments what you would add.
Next time I’m going to talk about something that needs to go alongside our PEAR. Something that, if we don’t have, will mean PEAR becomes another source of pain. And that’s an imaginary lovely girlfriend. It will all make sense, I promise.
I’ve got you. You’ve got a spark. Let’s get kindling.
I subscribed to this on Josie's recommendation and, while I'm a visual artist rather than primarily a writer, this article was really helpful. A lot of it applies equally well to getting in the studio and actually making something, rather than procrastinating, doubting yourself and then beating yourself up. Thank you!
Have just treated myself to listening to this while putting some washing away and it was beautiful! Thank you. You named so many thoughts in my mind. What a lovely, calming piece xx