Board Games

I'm not one of those writers you're going to see in Starbucks hammering out the great American novel between slurps of caramel macchiato. I'm too easily distracted by...hey, what was that thump? The dog jumping off someone's bed, maybe? Wow, she hasn't been walked in hours. I hope she can hold it till I'm done with this post.

Wait...where was I?

Oh, yeah. I'm easily distracted. No way could I write a novel in public. I couldn't write a grocery list in public. Well, I could, but I'd forget all the important stuff, like chocolate chips and beer.

Since I don't own a sensory deprivation tank or a bomb shelter, I have to muddle along with a desk. It's where I do all my writing, and I love it. Unfortunately, it also happens to be where I do most of my accumulating. And I'm not talking about wealth and power.

(I'm a writer, remember? We're in it for love, not money, right?)

(Although, then again, we wouldn't actually say no to more cash, would we...?)

It's not checks that are piling up on my desk, alas -- unless you count the ones waiting to go in the mail to Visa and the phone company and the IRS, etc. etc. And piling up beside all that are books, contracts, royalty statements, fan letters (well, O.K. -- there's one), pens, pencils, notebooks, CDs, DVDs, stuffed animals (I try to keep my kids away from the computer, but it just can't be done) and a depressingly long To Do list from which nothing ever seems to Get Done.

In fact, if you were to visit my home office, you might not believe I have a desk at all. You'd just walk into the bedroom that's been designated Daddy's Place and assume you'd stumbled into one of those old houses where 90-year-old twin sisters with 200 cats stockpile every issue of The Cleveland Plain Dealer dating back to 1949. Then you'd run out screaming before the stack of Life magazines -- or, in my case, the complete Time Life "Old West" collection -- can fall over and crush you.

Which isn't to say my desk isn't organized. It's just organized in piles, heaps and mounds. (I like the heaps best because you don't have to lift anything to search through them. You just stick a hand in and start sifting.)

But though I'm a slob, I do have my anal side. It's just not things I care about organizing. It's my work. And here's how I do it.

Some writers motivate themselves with dreams of success. Some do it with the simple joy of creation. Me, I'm a guilt and fear man. Hence, the Big Board and the Calendar.

The Big Board is...well, a big board. A big dry-erase board, to be a bit more precise. On it is a grid tracking word count and chapters completed week by week leading up to the deadline for my next book. Its purpose: allowing me to size up, at a glance, whether or not I'm on schedule.

And then have a nervous breakdown when I see I'm not.

And then whip myself into a writing frenzy to get back on track.

And then have another nervous breakdown when I see I'm still behind.

Masochistic? You bet! But it works.

The Calendar is...well, a calendar. (Do you sense a theme developing with the names I give to things?) It hangs next to my desk, and I turn to it at the end of every work day and write down the number of words I’ve managed to produce.

Why? Because sometimes the Big Board doesn't make me feel badly enough.

"Just 942 words today? But last Wednesday I wrote 949 words! I'm slipping! I shouldn't have stayed up so late last night watching Doctor Who. I'm such a loser! Or maybe I'm developing Alzheimer's. Wait...what was that thump?"

Obviously, I need panic the way other writers need coffee, and if I don't get it I have to create it.

Oh, and I need coffee, too. Pot after pot of it. That's why so many of my piles, heaps and mounds are stained brown.

I could say a lot more about the patented Steve Hockensmith Feel Bad/Write Good Novel Generation System. But I see on the Calendar that I only added 933 words to my new novel today, and the Big Board tells me I'm two weeks behind schedule, so what the heck am I doing working on something else? ARGH!!!

Now where was that cup of coffee? I know it's on this desk somewhere....

Comments

[Janet]

I too am a heap and mounder. I have been trying to clean up my work space since July. Just last week I pulled out from underneath my photo darkroom counter Rolling Stone magazines dating back to 1984, a pile as long and wide as a twin size bed, nearly knee high.They were out of sight so I didn't feel like I was hoarding. Well congratulate me because they are going in the recycle bin! Just cleaned off my desk last week and it is only piled half as high as Big Rock Candy Mountain now. I also used a big board to keep me on track in the darkroom. I might have to use your system to motivate myself to write as well. We may actually be cousins separated at birth! Now get back to work and have a great day!

[Steve]

Rolling Stones dating back to 1984? That means you've got all the issues that came out when I actually gave a crap about contemporary music! Don't put them in the recycling bin. Send them to me! (So that I can shove them under my desk, forget about them, and let my children deal with them when they're cleaning out my office in 2045.)

[Lee Nelson]

Is this where I tell you that I write at my kitchen table?

Well, if you really want to feel jealous, I hammered out 3,000 words at the Queen Mary today and it only cost me $12.00 to park (didn't know about the parking fee, thought we were under 3 hours).

However, I want a big board like you. I want a big bulletin board where I can pin up my reference photos so I don't have to keep flipping back and forth in my notebook or, if I'm too lame and forgot to print them out, have to re-Google them. Btw, did you know that Queen Mary charges for WiFi?

Most mornings, though, I'm typing at the kitchen table and answering every five minutes the annoying question, "Mom are you done yet?" or the equally annoying question "Can you type faster?"

Next Saturday, my writing partner and I are going to try a new place to type. We think UCLA campus - only $10 to park all day.

[Richard Prosch]

Feel good about the clutter Steve, feel good. For in the other direction lies madness. I should know. I can't have the clutter, period. My desk is clean. You could eat off it --but then I'd spend the next couple hours tidying up, and get nothing written. Like you, I need vats of coffee...but those pesky rings won't let me write (where's the Windex?). But the guilt/panic thing? Yes. I am with you. And darned if it doesn't usually work.

[Gutenbergsson]

Clutter and calendars are good Steve! At least you've got the right balance between guilt and fear. My novel has been sitting on the computer (in "outline" format) for at least four years. I feel the guilt (why am I watching Archer when I should be doing something productive?) but succumb to the fear (geez, that first page sucks). I'd say you're doing fine, and the calendar idea...hmmm, off to Staples I go!

[Cap'n Bob]

Compared to my desk, yours looks like Felix Unger's. My entire upstairs, in fact, could be featured on HOARDERS. I think I need to de-acquire.

[Steve]

Looks like I've got a couple converts to the Church of the Big Board (or Calendar). Not the catchiest name for a cult, but we'll spiff it up in revisions. We are writers, after all.

And hearing that most of you are untidy like me makes me wonder: Is general slobbiness a sign of a creative mind at work? And, if not, can I at least make that argument to my wife?