Why Writing is Hard 2: Taking Risks

Last month’s column on writing challenges addressed network thinking as an obstacle to neat, convenient writing. This month, we’re going to consider a different common theme: writing anxiety.
 
Writing anxiety comes from a bunch of sources. We can be anxious about whether we are doing it “right,” or whether our argument makes sense to others, or whether we’re making “enough” progress, or any of a couple dozen other things.
 
Let’s get a few of these out of the way. First, there is no one right way to write. Some people write better in the morning; others, especially writers with ADD/ADHD, write better in the evening and early part of the night. Some write from the top of the document down, others hopscotch through their outlines based on time and energy level, a few don’t bother with an outline at all and just “pants” it, as one of my favorite writers describes her process (they fly by the seat of their pants). Some even write in their native language and translate it into to English. Any dimension of writing you can imagine, people vary on it. Whatever process works for you is how you should write (right?). To quote renowned fantasy writer Mercedes Lackey, “there is no one true way.”
 
Second, “enough” progress is relative to the size of the product and the deadline. As long as you are on track to meet your deadline with your project, you are doing fine. (This is why planning ahead in both the long and medium term is important: it tells us where the intermediate goal posts are.) Don’t measure yourself to others. Even in the field of political science, I’ve seen dissertations range from about 120 pages to over 400 pages, and solo-authored books range from 39,000 words to 70,000+. Your project needs to be enough to answer your research question, and that’s all. Beyond that, some people write in fits and starts, punctuated by periods of reading and reflection; others do all their reading and thinking first, outline, and then methodically (or non-methodically) work their way through that outline. As long as progress at the weekly or monthly level aligns with your goals, you’re fine. Day-to-day variation is expected and totally normal.
 
One of the biggest challenges to writing, however, is anxiety: about how our idea will be received, about how clearly it is articulated, about whether we have cited (enough of) the (correct) literature, etc. This is a totally normal and healthy feeling. It says that you are taking risks by exposing part of your intimate mental life – your newborn idea – to public scrutiny. Anxiety over taking risks is a part of life. Risk-taking wouldn’t give us the thrill of a dopamine rush if it didn’t; riding roller coasters would be a rough, jostling experience with no fun attached.
 
The best way I know to deal with anxiety, even the near-crippling type, about sharing work or putting it on the page is to lower the stakes. Your advisor or acquisitions editor shouldn’t be the first to read a text. Work with a trusted colleague to take turns discussing your new ideas, so that even before you write them you’ve worked out ways to talk about them. Coffee and an empty classroom or conference room with lots of whiteboard space are helpful in this process; Zoom’s whiteboard or a blank PowerPoint slide can do the same for distant colleagues. Once your trusted person has heard about and seen the early draft(s), expand your circle a bit to a broader group of fellow travelers who are engaged in the same type of activity you are: dissertating, article writing, book writing, whatever. If necessary, start over by talking through it before sharing a written draft.

A few people prefer the opposite: they prefer to air their ideas first to a group of complete (or near complete) strangers, like a conference panel. The reputational costs of bombing in front of people you'll never see again are lower than bombing in front of people you interact with regularly. (This is why departments often require students to present in front of in-house audiences first, because those reputational costs help to ensure that the presentation is of better quality than otherwise.) These folks are mostly more experienced researchers; they agree that they are  comfortable taking their ideas pretty far on their own before needing to seek feedback.
 
It will get easier with time and practice, I promise. Depending on where you start, it may take a while, but repetition is desensitizing. Actively seek out low-stakes opportunities to present to a class, an in-house working group or workshop series, poster presentations, or other similar opportunities. If they don’t exist at your institution or department, make yourself a CV line or annual review bullet by starting and organizing something. You aren’t the only one out there who needs or wants this, I promise. The marginal cost of setting up a monthly workshop series is perhaps an hour of email; the most challenging part will probably be finding an available space to meet. Opportunities can also be found by putting yourself out on platforms like the academic corners of Twitter. Keep writing, and good luck!
 
Got a question about writing that you’d like to see me answer? Email me and maybe it’ll be the feature article in a future newsletter!