Writing on Schedule

One of the nice things about writing is that you set your own schedule. That’s also one of the bad things. The tendency of people, when left entirely to their own devices, is to procrastinate. On my computer in my Michigan office I’ve taped a fortune from a cookie onto the monitor: Procrastination is the thief of time. A nice platitude to be sure, but it doesn’t really affect the proclivity.

One of the things that I find most important as a writer is to actually set a schedule. And then try to stick to it. After all, no one’s standing over you with a stick, insisting that you get those pages out.

Since this blog is about writing, and more about the business of writing, I think it’s important to address the fundamental things that make it possible for a writer to achieve success. One of those things is to establish routine. It creates the space to be creative.

I’m fortunate in that I own a couple of other small businesses that allow me the time and flexibility to concentrate on writing. I know that for many of you that’s not the case. Which makes it even more important to focus the time that you can devote to your craft.

One of my businesses, Sheffield’s Beer & Wine Garden, is located near Chicago’s Wrigley Field. It’s always been a bohemian kind of place, populated by artists and actors and all the kinds of people who tend to gravitate toward working in bars. One of the ongoing arguments that emerge between me and the staff concerns my continual efforts to make things work better. The staff, by and large, would be happier if I’d just disappear and let the inmates run the asylum.

One of the main themes of these discussions is about selling out. There is a certain artistic bent that argues that doing something, and making a true business out of it, somehow runs counter to the spirit of the counter culture. When I started at Sheffield’s, as a bartender, the then staff would turn out the lights and lock the doors after a Cubs game – they didn’t want those kind of people in the bar.

Now that sounds ridiculous, and it was. But it’s just a matter of degree between that and the snobbishness that a lot of artists affect toward anything that smacks of the commercial. Somehow, making money has become confused with losing artistic integrity, like it’s somehow more noble to be a poor artist than a comfortable one.
At Sheffield’s we serve a lot of really good beer, we also sell a lot more Bud and Bud light. The bartenders (most of who have been weeded out) used to turn up their noses at those folks, the customers so pathetically uninformed as to choose a Bud over a Bell’s Brewery beer. Those were the same bartenders who sneered so haughtily at the commercial side of art.

One of the problems with that line of thinking (and there are many) is that you’re insulating yourself from the very people who would benefit most from your message. Where would Jesus have been if he refused to preach to sinners? How are you going to educate someone if you won’t talk to them in the first place.

Another problem is that you never get anywhere by insulating yourself from the world at large by only associating with those of your own ilk. You all sit at the bar and bitch, but no one ever gets anything done. But the main problem is, if you want to be an artist, you have to be an entrepreneur. Or you’re going to be a bartender for the rest of your life.

A schedule is important because it’s one of the fundamental steps that a person has to take in taking themselves seriously. Yes, a writer can work in their pajamas and some of you do, but is that really a good way to set up your relationship to your work? I’m sure it works for some, but it doesn’t work for me.

I need structure, and if it doesn’t come from outside – which I resent – then it has to come from me. I have to get up and follow a routine, and schedule time to write, or I don’t write anything. One of the ironies is that I often write best when I’m under the gun. If I have a meeting that I can’t miss later that day, I’m writing like a pro, the words are flowing as I keep one eye on the clock. Conversely, it’s often the case that when I have the entire day to devote to writing, I never get anything of real substance accomplished.

So I set a schedule – when to get up, breakfast, exercise, office time – and I try to stick to it. For me it’s a method that works. The most successful artists are the ones that are dedicated to their life’s work. If they want to have time to devote to that work, they have to pay the bills.

Take the artist Christo; it doesn’t matter whether you like him or not. He could never do what he does without immense attention to detail and organization. The time that he devotes to organizing and developing a project is greater than the duration of the display itself. In fact the process becomes a part of the performance. It’s the same for any successful writer. There’s a lot that goes into getting your work published. And all of it, the little tasks that get you there, are part of the finished product.

That’s one of the things that fascinates me – putting it all together. I, for one, think that making money can be just as creative as any other pursuit. It’s not about the money, it’s about the freedom that money gives you to concentrate on your craft. After all, if anyone’s in this just to make a buck, give it up, go get your CPA and be done with it. But if you’re trying to make your work a part of your life, then you have to give it the space to grow. Feeding that passion takes time, and time costs money.

Set a schedule and work under it. It may seem pedestrian but it works. It’s often the little things that make the difference between striving and success. If you really commit to your work, the entire process, the rest will come. Right on schedule.

— Ric Hess, Apr 23, 02:22 PM

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