#AmNotWriting

The 4 things that stop Tammy Cohen writing (and how she deals with them)

When asked what I do, I tell people I’m a writer. That’s a lie. What I really am is a not-writer. The truth is I spend far more of my time not writing than I do writing. I have no excuse. No day job. No young children needing constant attention. So what is it that holds me back?

1 The Internet

To paraphrase Churchill: never has so much time been wasted by so many for so little productive result as since the advent of the Internet. The Internet is like a giant vacuum cleaner that sucks me in for hours at a time before spitting me out, dried up and frazzled, like a giant hairball. Worst offenders are Twitter and Facebook because I can convince myself they’re ‘work’.

From the moment my publisher advised me to ‘develop a web presence’ I’ve used it as carte blanche to spend whole days on social media following up links to interesting articles which lead to other articles which ultimately ends in videos of dogs doing funny stuff.

The solution? I lock myself out of the Internet. Shameful though it is to admit it, I am writing this piece now, courtesy of a downloaded app that blocks me from being able to get online for a set period of time. Otherwise, no offence but, DOGS IN BEE COSTUMES!

2 Self doubt

This is the worst thing anyone ever wrote. What gave me the idea I could write? Nothing happens in this book. Yawn! Self doubt isn’t just a voice in my ear, it’s a great big lump of a thing sitting on my keyboard, blocking my screen, reciting back to me every single shitty Amazon review I ever got. It dogs me when I go out for a walk, and when I go to sleep it settles itself right next to me on the pillow.

Let me tell you, if there was Nobel prize for self doubt, I’d win it. Hands down.

If self doubt runs through your DNA, there’s nothing you can do eliminate it, no handy op to have it extracted like a dodgy wisdom tooth. But there are ways of getting past it. For me the thing that helps most is to remember that every other writer (and not-writer) – even the greats like David Foster Wallace and Ian Rankin – goes through the same thing.

Whenever I get together with other writers, there’s always one – usually the one with the wild, staring eyes downing triple expresso martinis and perusing the job ads – who is convinced the book they’re in the middle of is so utterly awful it will expose them to the world as a fraud. Knowing you’re not alone might not get rid of the mocking thing sitting on your keyboard, but it should shrink it enough that you can see past it and crack on.

3 Other People’s opinions

The first book is easier because you write it in secret never imagining anyone else will ever read it. But for all subsequent books, you can’t avoid other people’s opinions. Your agent, your readers, your publisher, bloggers, Amazon reviewers, Goodreads reviewers, even your mother are now chiming in with suggestions, changes, things you did wrong last time, things you should try out this time. Left unchecked, other people’s opinions can join together to form a constricting band around whatever you’re writing now.

I try to get around this by never showing anyone my first draft. When you’re writing in a vacuum unsure if your book might not just be utter pants (see above), the temptation is to share your work widely, canvasing for reassurance. The problem with doing that is that everyone will have a different take, a different slant, and sometimes an entirely different agenda, and you might find yourself changing direction again and again in a bid to accommodate all these diverse points of view.

You’ll end up losing, or at least greatly diluting, that kernel of passion or truth that inspired you to start writing this book in the first place. The time for second opinions is after the first draft is done. But even then I’d stick with one or two people whose ideas you trust and whose literary tastes chime with your own.

4  Environment

Working at home is like being a boulder in the flow of everyday family life. There you sit while it rushes over you, past you – the constant stream of kids needing lifts, washing that hasn’t been done, car services that need booking, dogs requiring walking (again). It’s so easy to get swept along with it, but each time I break off to pay a bill, or stack the dishwasher, it shatters my concentration so that when I get back to the screen it’s… ooh look, a video of a cat eating with chopsticks!

In some ways this comes back to self-doubt. Ring-fencing your writing time is like saying ‘my writing is important’ and that takes confidence, particularly if you’re not making any money from it.

Over the years I have conditioned myself to see writing as a job. When I go to my desk it’s the equivalent of the morning commute. And just as if I worked in an office, I wouldn’t break off to give my son a lift to football because it’s raining or wash the windows because I’ve just realised it’s not actually foggy outside, I try not to do it at home either. My family now accepts that when I’m at my desk I’m working and they save the domestic stuff up for later. I’m still working on the dog…

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Tammy Cohen is the author of six novels: The Mistress’s Revenge, The War of the Wives, Someone Else’s Wedding, The Broken, Dying For Christmas and First One Missing. She lives in London.

Follow her on twitter @MsTamarCohen

Tags: #amnotwriting, featured

Category: Contemporary Women Writers, How To and Tips