That’s usually all it takes to get me going again. But writing on that first page of a brand-new notebook is like the first dive off a diving board — will it be a clean slice through the water, or a stinging flop that sends torrents over the sides?
In times of need, like this morning, I turn to Donald Murray’s “Shoptalk: Learning to Write with Writers.”
It’s full of quotations and maxims from writers of the past and present who talk about how they get the work of writing done.
I instantly feel better when I realize that things could be much worse. I could be Joseph Conrad: “I sit here religiously every morning — I sit down eight hours every day — and sitting down is all. In the course of that working day of eight hours I write three sentences which I erase before leaving the table in despair … Sometimes it takes all my resolution and power of self-control to refrain from butting my head against the wall.”
And I could keep worse company than Ernest Hemingway, who reminds me that what I’ve experienced this morning is par for the course for him: “My working habits are simple — long periods of thinking, short periods of writing.”
I know my fear of writing in a new notebook is irrational. I just proved it by writing these last nine paragraphs in the time it took to write the first four. I just needed to fill up some space to remind me, as John Hersey puts it, that “to be a writer is to sit down at one’s desk … and write; not waiting for that little jet of blue flame of genius to start from the breastbone — just plain going at it, in pain and delight.”
John Edmondson is a teacher in Hampstead.