Another brilliant piece from a GUNNAS WRITING MASTERCLASS writer
“Write for 10 minutes …”
… or sit for ten minutes thinking about writing? I’m halfway through a day with the Gunnas, trying to conquer writer’s block with a ten-minute task designed to help me face the demon Procrastination. Not an easy task, given that I am just one of many self-appointed Queens of Procrastination. But isn’t that why I’m here – to see if I can break that habit? I’m starting to wonder if it’s something even bigger than that. Is NOT putting pen to paper really just a slack habit, or is something else more sinister standing in the way? Is it in fact more about adjusting my sense of who I am? Am I a genuine writer-in-waiting or really just a Gunna who fancies themselves as something grander than they really are, but lacks the guts to test the water? Like all good gunnas from all walks of life, if I never actually try it, I can always say I want to be a writer and maintain the belief that if I just had the time, the quiet, the place, I would be a good one, or a popular one. Once I actually go there, I face the prospect of realising that perhaps I have been kidding myself all these years.
Don’t worry, I’ve done all the groundwork – researched whether anyone else had already pinched my cool blog name – they had! Researched what other people were writing in the genres that interest me – they have! Questioned my own capacity to write something worth reading – turns out we’ve ALL been there! And you know what? Whilst it is very possible I will never write the next big thing to sweep the reading planet, I found myself reflecting on some of the shit I’ve read in the name of “research”. And who defines what is shit and what is good writing, anyway? If I’m willing to read what other people put out there, who’s to say my shit won’t make perfect sense to someone else?
So here goes. Who am I as a writer? Dev encouraged us to create a symbolic connection to our writing self – wear a hat, light a candle – whatever works for you, whatever will glue you to your seat long enough to let those words out of your head and onto a page. As someone who has spent their life immersed in language teaching, the idea of creating an identity for the new me resonated – life is all about different identities for the different worlds you inhabit. Just as many of us learn to inhabit different identities in our working and home lives, speaking different languages creates different versions of your identity. The language and the culture of those who speak it shape how you can and do interact with others in that community. Sometimes language will limit your capacity to express some concepts; at other times, it opens doors to elaborate on something in ways you never knew existed. In the past, I felt I needed a nom de plume before I got started as a writer (just another distraction?); hence “The Lemon Queen” was born. There’s a wealth of material waiting to be mined there, due to my propensity to find the lemon in any situation. If there’s a dud in the pile, I will take it home. People who know me well are familiar with my plaintive queries as to why I have to factor in a second visit to the shop for almost all my purchases; and the lengths I have gone to in order to try and outrun the gremlin behind my troubles have provided loyal listeners with a constant source of laughter and perhaps more than a little Schadenfreude on occasion. Mind you, it begs the question – if my eagle eyes are so damn good, why don’t I spot the lemon before I pay for it and take it home?
In the context of procrastination, though, why did the Lemon Queen jump into my head during today’s workshop? Am I really doomed to pick out all the lemons all my life, or am I hiding behind them to avoid using my time more productively?
Take the shoe saga – just one example of the Lemon Queen’s madness! Ha! Why am I writing about shoes in a workshop run by the dazzling Catherine Deveny? She is shiny and bright in red lipstick and full stereo sound, with a gorgeous red dress to match, and all I can come up with as a writing topic is a pair of grotty, dusty walking shoes that I choose to wear like bathroom scuffs.
I returned the bastards twice, each time swapping them for a pair that looked flawless, only to get them home and find I had missed something in all my jumping, hopping and posturing in the store. I even changed colours and sizes during the process! Isn’t it great how shamelessly humans can prance around humiliating themselves in a shop for the sake of a shoe purchase, but lack the guts to send a few words to the printer in case people judge and find us wanting? What the hell is going on there? And with the benefit of hindsight, what was the point of looking for a perfect pair when I was only going to treat them like gumboots anyway? I’m never going to wear them to meet the Queen. And even if I do, I don’t actually care what the Queen thinks of my footwear. I don’t even believe in the monarchy!
Which takes me back to this dedicated search for perfection – what’s it all for and whom does it serve? Why wait till something is perfect before you set it free for others to see? Why did I waste so much energy on seeking perfection in a pair of functional shoes that is now filthy and scuffed – by me? Why can’t I let go and work around the many lemons that clutter my life? None of the issues they raise are life threatening. That time could have been spent writing! As Dev says, “perfection is the enemy of good”, and the search for perfection in many ways is just another form of procrastination. Life’s too short to be worried about when we will be good enough. So here it is, warts and all – my first gift to today’s Gunnas! I wish you all happiness and success in your efforts and look forward to seeing you in print!