Half-assing my 1000 Words
I’m doing 1000 Words of Summer again. The proposition is simple: write 1000 words every day for two weeks. Each day, you get an encouraging email from author and organizer Jami Attenberg and assorted guest writers. (There’s also a Slack and hashtags for social media, but I don’t participate in them.) It’s collective but self-directed, structured but flexible. There’s no goal other than the process. It’s about getting in touch with why you write and how it makes you feel.
Some of you may remember I first did 1000 Words of Summer in 2020, as I was trying to finish my book proposal and find a life in lockdown I could cope with, and it set me on the path to doing both those things. For the next two years, I wasn’t at the right place in my project for it when it came around; churning out words isn’t compatible with intense research, for example. Now, however, I’m once again in a place where I need to produce a lot of words, and perhaps even more important, develop the kind of momentum that makes producing those words feel smooth. Crucially, I’m also in a place where I feel healthy enough to try.
When I did 1000 Words of Summer in 2020, I didn’t focus on the quantity of words, but rather the quality of the time and attention I was giving my book proposal. Two hours—my best two hours—every day. (Usually that resulted in 700-800 words, as I recall.) This is in keeping with the spirit of the project, in which 1000 words is meant to be shorthand for “a good, but not overwhelming, creative day’s work.” In 2020, I was strict about sticking to a schedule, avoiding digital distractions, and getting it done in one go. That’s what I needed then, in the early months of lockdown when closing my inbox for two hours still felt irresponsible, if not impossible. 1000 Words set me up for years of prioritizing those two hours a day, of trusting my ideas to work with me if I showed up ready for them. I will be forever grateful.
This year, I’m not doing any of that. It’s quantity over quality all the way, baby. I don’t care what the words say, or what time I write them, or in what mood I show up to do it. If I take dumb little internet breaks, fine. If I write 700 words in the morning and 300 in the evening, fine. If I have to take a nap first, fine. If I try to write for my book and something else—like a newsletter—comes out, fine. I just have to write words. 1000 of them.
This is common writing advice, to stop being so precious about routines and quality and just get something, anything done. You can edit a shitty first draft, but you can’t edit a blank page. I know all this. I’ve lived it many times. But it’s far easier for me to detach from the quality of the product than the quality of my process. I’ve been ok with a shitty first draft for many years, but not a lazy first draft. Until now.
What this feels like in practice is half-assing the work. Not forcing myself into a certain schedule or even a certain project. Not deleting something I know I won’t keep, to bulk up today’s word count. Not forcing myself to keep going if I don’t feel like it, but trusting I’ll come back later to goal made smaller by whatever I’ve managed to vomit up now. If it gets hard, I make it easier. If I get tired, I take a break.
Obviously I’m hoping to produce many words of the drafts of my remaining book chapters, because after so many setbacks and delays, I really need this project to move out of first-draft mode. But I’m also hoping to remember that I can do something I set out to do, while allowing myself to take the easiest route possible to get there.
In this, 1000 Words is similar to the beginner weightlifting journey I’ve been on. In the gym, something is almost always better than nothing, but too much is way worse than not enough. I’m fortunate to have these lessons continually reinforced in the Discord for She’s a Beast paid subscribers, which is where I go to take my dumb little internet breaks now that I don’t have social media. It’s there I learned the most important truism for this phase of my life: If something is worth doing, it’s worth doing half-assed.
Sometimes half-assed can turn into whole-assed, once you get over the inertia of starting. But I’m working on not needing that to happen to feel like my effort was worth it. I’m working on keeping going without speeding up, dropping down in weight even though I’ve lifted more in the past, and stopping as soon as I’ve done the minimum. And yes, sometimes even half-assed is too much, especially since my health problems aren’t totally resolved, and I’m working on recognizing and respecting those days, too.
After months of feeling like I had no creative energy at all, it’s tempting to invite it back with rituals and routines and capital-C Commitment. Those things have helped me in the past, and I’m sure they’ll help me again. But for now, they’re the opposite of what I need, and the opposite of what I’m using 1000 Words to practice. I’m seeing how much I can get done if I lower my expectations into negative numbers. If I allow myself not just an achievable goal, but a nearly parameter-less one. If I let laziness be my guide, instead of my worst fear.
I know this isn’t the last battle I’ll do with my perfectionism. Leaving it behind forever is not an achievable goal. Another lesson from lifting, however, is that it’s always easier to get back to where you’ve been before than it was to get there the first time. So here I am, writing without editing, writing without worrying, writing without caring. It’s not a place I’ll be able to stay forever, but it’s place I’ll always be able to come back to.