Love the One You're With: Promiscuity in Writing

I wrote this blog several months ago, but being the chicken-hearted writer that I am (perhaps this blog should be called The Chicken-Hearted Writer?), I never posted it. While I've been revisiting short stories and finishing up my story collection, I put the novel on hold. For the past week, I've been entertaining the idea of scrapping the novel altogether and starting yet another one. I thought of this blog post and wondered if it might not help even just one of you out there the way it has helped me this morning.
____________

Are you being faithful to your novel? Are you tempted by other writing projects such as short stories, interviews, and book reviews that promise quick gratification? Do you keep guilty secrets from those who would hold you accountable, including yourself? Do you compare your novel to others' and secretly wish you could swap books? Has that certain something that first attracted you gone cold?

Commitment crises abound, not just in our relationships with people but also in our relationships to the things that matter most to us, like finishing the novel.

A few years ago, I met a woman in a residency program we were both participating in who asked me what I was working on. Simple enough question, but I didn't really have an answer. I was between projects, I replied, or words to that effect. What was your last writing project? she pressed. Oh, I've been working on some short stories, I said, and a few other things. A novel? she asked. I've started a couple, I said, but I can't seem to find my groove. I get confused and then bored and then something else comes along. "Love the one you're with," she said, matter of factly, her novel stacked neatly on the desk behind her as she spoke, all 600+ pages of it. Granted, she seemed to have committment issues of another kind (can't let go?), but I'll save that for another post. What matters to me, and perhaps you, is how to faithfully commit to one book at a time.

Trust me, I know all the ways of getting around writing a book without letting on to anyone that I'm stepping out on the novel. I write stories and apply for grants and submit to contests and seek out internships and workshops; I lead workshops and edit manuscripts for other writers; I start up writing businesses and programs; I meet regularly with not one but two writers' groups; I go away to conferences and beach houses with writer buddies; now, I'm even blogging-- all to keep up the appearance of fidelity when I know I'm not really fooling anyone, least of all myself.

So how does a promiscuous writer finally settle down and marry a novel? I'm not sure, but here's what I'm doing to break old habits. Maybe these will help you, too.

1. Come clean. Until everything is out in the open, you won't commit. List every bad habit you can think of that has let you off the hook in the past.

2. Find someone to hold you accountable and ask her to call you to the carpet when you mess up.

3. Forgive yourself and then work to build back the personal integrity you've sacrificed for so long.

4. Look for good role models who are working faithfully on one book at a time. Consider the progress they've made by being monogomous.

5. Set small, doable goals you know you can accomplish. Write for 15 minutes a day. That's it. But stick to it faithly every day for a month. Keeping small promises to yourself re-builds integrity and confidence.