Finishing a Book and the Art of Disappearing

A writer confesses to Gina what many of us have felt — five years into a manuscript, losing steam, and wondering if finishing a book was ever realistic. Gina responds with Jeff Tweedy, a love letter to the creative process, and something to look forward to: doing a book signing together someday.

Dear Gina,

Why did I ever decide to write a book? It seemed like a good idea at the time. But now the project has dragged on for over 5 years and I’m starting to think maybe I should never have started in the first place. I have to force myself to sit and write almost every day. Shouldn’t I want to write more?

I must admit, though, once I get in the groove I start to enjoy it. But honestly, I am losing hope that I’ll ever finish this project. People know that I’ve been working on it for a long time and sometimes I wonder what they think about me. When I consider quitting, my heart just breaks. So deep down I know I want to stick with it. Do you have any words of encouragement?

Signed,

Floundering Writer

Dear Flounder,

I’ll meet you in the pond! This writer here cycles in and out of these feelings on a weekly basis, if not daily. I’m not sure why it’s so dang hard to write sometimes, and then other times it seems to flow so beautifully that I can’t get the thoughts down on paper fast enough. Why can’t every writing session go like that? Writing flow is elusive — and the more we chase it, the more it seems to hide.

In MRO’s Creative Space, we recently discussed musician, songwriter, author, record producer Jeff Tweedy’s book How To Write One Song. He has a lot to say about the creative process for all artists. One of my big takeaways was what Tweedy calls “disappearing.”

The Art of Disappearing

Our goal really shouldn’t be the song, or in our case the book, he says, but our goal should be to disappear into the work. Where do we go when we disappear? We go into a place where we get out of our own way.

Simply being in the process of creating is enough. He writes (and I highly recommend the audio book for his warm and wonderful conversational tone):

“What I think you should REALLY want… is to disappear—to watch your concept of time evaporate, to live at least once inside a moment when you aren’t “trying” to do anything or be anything anymore. To spend time in a place where you just are.”

Tweety’s hope for us is that we will desire the disappearing itself, and when we do, the song or the book or the painting is inevitable and in a way almost a byproduct of that central experience. 

Starting & Finishing a Book

When we began writing our books, we must have had a glimpse of the finished piece, out in the world entertaining and informing readers and hopefully impacting their lives. Maybe a glimmer of that vision is what keeps us going.

But my lived experience tells me that Jeff Tweedy’s onto something: that the day-to-day disappearance is what will bring that book into being.

If you can give yourself over to the creative process and get comfortable with disappearing, you’re likely to harvest some hard-to-find truth along the way, both about yourself and about what you’re trying to say. In the end, learning how to disappear is the best way I’ve found to make my true self visible to myself and others.

So, it’s not about the finished product; it’s about bringing it in, and who we become in that process.

Writing Motivation

Cultivate The Discipline to Disappear Regularly

If it’s writing motivation you’re looking for, I have thoughts on that too. There’s lots of practical suggestions I could give you about:

• creating a daily schedule
• finding an accountability partner
• joining a writers group

Maybe someday you’ll visit MRO’s Creative Space and find some nourishment there too. I also have some ideas about how we think we’re being judged gets in our heads – and how to handle it.

But, above all I invite you to love this writer who is floundering and to do what it takes to get into this space of disappearance, this space where anything is possible, where words that surprise and delight will emerge.

And in that space of disappearance, of losing ourselves in some “other-world,” we become a kind of transmitter, yes? In this space, we pull these ideas out of our head, let the words flow through our fingers, and launch them into the world we know. It’s a pretty magical thing to be involved in, wouldn’t you say?