Frozen by Indecision

I've decided to throw away my goal-setting ambition right now because well, I'll just say it: I Am a Libra. I know that sounds like woo-woo psychic mumbo-jumbo and true, there's little scientific evidence for astrology, but I can't seem to sum it up any more precisely than that. (And I've always felt this way.) I could say, "I'm indecisive" or "I like balance" or "I can't ever settle and commit to one thing," which are all true, but in short, let's just say I'm a Libra, with all the good and bad qualities that go with it. For those unfamiliar with Libras, a quick lesson: our sign is the scale. Yes, we do like balance, yes, we like things to be in harmony, yes, we are often peacemakers (we hate conflict), but this love of peace leads to wishy-washiness, lack of action, and worry.

For me this manifests in my approach to writing as "Should I make my character do this or that?" and "Which is the better metaphor?" or "Which is the more compelling scene?" and on and on. When my flash-deciding Pisces of a husband asks, "Where do you want to go for dinner?" I'm often paralyzed by the choices: Should we walk somewhere or do I feel like a drive? Maybe place A, though that's a bit expensive, and place B has just as good food, though place B doesn't have my favorite dish like place C does, though place C has terrible service." And on and on.

I often read interviews with established writers who talk about how they always write in long-hand on a sheet of paper before typing up a draft. Writers, moreso the older ones, are famously suspicious of technology and sometimes think typing on a computer will suck all of the creativity out of you -- as if creativity were rooted in all things non-technological, ploughs and bicycles and hand-pounding your own tortillas. But for me the computer, or more specifically my laptop, saves my writing sanity.

If and when I do try writing in longhand (usually when I want to write in the sun of the backyard), I compose a few words before crossing out the first verb that comes to mind and inserting another, then crossing that one out and inserting a better, more active verb, before going on a few sentences and then inserting a sentence with an asterisk I should've inserted when I first composed the earlier sentences. And by the time I've got a page, it's a jumble of messy penmanship, strikethroughs, asterisks, long bending arrows and squished marginalia notes. What a Libra. I change my mind a thousand times in my head before the final words go down. On a computer the magic of Backspace and Delete makes it all neat and clean and makes me seem like a more assured writer than I am.

So in my second posting, let me just announce that this blog may not be organized or seem like it has an overarching design or linear quality. This is a conscious decision. Otherwise, my goals will be too high and I won't write it. As Ann Patchett said (I think in Writers on Writing, but I'll check on that, and I'm sure there's more than one writer who's pointed this out), the work in your head can never be as good as the work on paper. One has to commit to the words on paper and in doing so, the Platonic ideal of your work becomes inherently flawed, just by existing as the work that was actually produced. So in the spirit of Elizabeth Gilbert, I am doing this because I'm making a commitment to myself and others to simply do it, but I can't promise it will be the best in the world. It will be what it is (and hopefully it won't suck).