i write to deadlines - i always have. i don’t think that’s necessarily a bad thing, either - sometimes a deadline is just the amount of positive stress to get you through a block, to convince you that something is important, to get you started.
in fact, i am writing this on a deadline (self imposed, but sure) - but i’m also thinking about what else is fueling my writing practice, and what fuels can be sustainable over longer periods of time. because, i have a bold claim:
it isn’t the schedule, or the word count, or the writing habit that makes a writing practice sustainable, at least over the long term. it’s the fuel.
i cannot tell you how many clients come to me upset that they cannot write, or otherwise work on, their project every day. they’re caretakers, or they’re teaching massive loads, or they just don’t have a schedule that opens up space for them in that way. and they are, to a person, convinced that they’ll never be successful because their schedule doesn’t work.
what if we framed it around fuel? your schedule, your routine, your habits - those are all just parts of the car, but they’re going to sit there (or not work as well) without fuel, or without the right kind of fuel.
i think about deadline pressure as jet fuel - it’s powerful stuff! it will move you a long way in a short amount of time. but rockets are not every day vehicles - the wear and tear on that rocket after being shot that high and that fast is substantial. it’s not that it doesn’t have a purpose, or that using it is bad. it’s just not the most sustainable option.
when i talk about curiosity as a fuel, i think about it more like wind or solar power. it requires a fair bit of tech to be set up correctly - just like any writing practice requires a fair amount of learning, skills building, and patience. but when you have the right conditions, and the right projects, renewable energy doesn’t take from you - it doesn’t cost you any extra to make the gears turn, just tapping into what you already have.
(please forgive the simplicity of the analogy i know that renewable energy has all kinds of caveats and complexities!!!!)
what does using curiosity as a fuel look like, in practical terms? it looks like:
not guilting or shaming yourself to get to your desk, but inviting yourself to it
finding newness and freshness in your topic, in your reading, in your skills
letting the changes in your schedule, your time available, your projects serve as creative constraints rather than roadblocks
how would it work to write 3 days a week instead of 5?
what would it be like to write in 15 minute bursts whenever i could?
what would need to change about my workflow to make those changes possible?
viewing each project as a chance to learn or do something different
becoming more efficient in research
learning a new subject area
trying out a new drafting tool
writing in a new voice
writing with a collaborator, or by yourself
focusing on elements of style
viewing writing as the solution to the puzzle: “how can i best convey this information to this group of people?”
it’s not that you’ll never ever use deadlines again - we all will. but thinking about your writing as something that grows and changes with you, and can be a source of continuing engagement, of new learning, of growth. it isn’t the schedule or the collaborator or the word count goal, ultimately, that is the magic ingredient (if there was one perfect schedule or system someone would have found it and trademarked it, and sold it back to you at prohibitively expensive prices!!!!) - all of those things are tools that you can learn to use, and learn when they match your circumstances.
no two pieces of writing are ever the same - and you could view that as a frustrating fact of academic life, or as the result of a bottomless well of curiosity, allowing you to grow and change and develop your writing practice into something that is fueled sustainably.