Around the time I decided to make another stab at being a professional novelist, I also decided to pick up a new hobby – model building.
No, I'm not building dioramas of Mundus and scenes from Don't Fireball the Neighbors. (I don't have near the skill level.) What I'm doing is bribing my brain.
I'm not very good at building new habits. Unfortunately, being a serious, professional writer means getting into the habit of writing even when the creative 'flow' is slow. I'm supposed to write something everyday – story, blog, social media, or even in person journal.
Now, I DO want to write professionally. I DO want those better habits. My inner storyteller looks as this the way an athlete looks at a training menu. I'm committed to this journey.
My inner six year old looks at this and whines, “Why'd you have to spoil my fun by making it a chore?”
The six year-old has a point. Commitments bring a certain level of stress and self-critique. Also, building a habit is mental work. Work takes effort.
If I was a sensible, responsible adult, I would just muscle through with positive self-talk. “Every session builds your skills.” “Five people interacted with your last post. That's a good start.” “Readers will see the passion and though in your world-building.”
However, I have a very loud inner-six-year-old. She isn't good at big picture thinking.
So, I've taken a page out of my
mother's parenting hand book – reinforcement via bribery.
I
started model building, with the condition that I can't work on them
unless I've worked on writing that day.
For the most part this system has work very well.
Building and painting models is fun and uses a different part of my creativity. It's more about color and picking the order to build and paint things. My progress is also literally tangible. I go from a box of plastic bits, to a gray figure, then to a displayable piece. It provides short term gratification.
There is the community element. I picked models that are part of the 'war gaming' niche. After you build and paint them, you can simulate battles at the local hobby shop. It's also surprisingly easy to get feedback and tips about your models. (Getting helpful feedback from fellow writers is like like pulling teeth. There's a reason I'm playing for an editor for look over Don't Fireball the Neighbors.) Visiting the game shop is also another 'carrot' I can use.
Yes, there have been slip ups. Days where I hobby first and them write while I wait for the glue/paint/clay to dry so I can do the next round. However, this is not the really danger.
In addition to the inner six-year-old, I have an inner CEO who 'over promises' what the work force can produce. In simpler terms, I have trouble setting realistic timelines.
The most glaring example of this is “Tanksgiving.” Last time I was at the hobby shop, I got caught up in the hype and pledged to bring a newly painted model to a battle royale event. I severely underestimated how long it would take paint my tiny little 'attack tractor.'
I let the pressure of the deadline push me off writing rhythm. It took slightly over a week of multiple painting hours a day. I didn't even make a token effort at writing. My tunnel vision was stronger than my budding habit.
I finished my model the day this post went up. (Pictures to follow when I find a light box.) The trimuph is tainted with the regert that I didn't keep my writer's goals. Regret can quickly be as heavy weight of commitments. Yes, I enjoyed myself. However, there's the nagging feeling that I could have found something else to blog about if I had just slowed down and recentered myself. Also, painting on a deadline, it just is too stressful.
As Samuel Clemens, pen name Mark Twain, put it.
“[H]e would now have comprehended that Work consists of whatever a body is obliged to do, and that Play consists of whatever a body is not obliged to do.”