Fixion Lessons from April

How to say yes, no, and/or... maybe?

This month’s Fixion lessons are brought to you by a human with the decision-making ability of a sea sponge.

Indecisive is my middle name.

(That’s a lie. It’s Mary, actually. Although Indecisia kinda sounds like one of those weird 17th century puritan names — almost kinda cute. Maybe it’ll catch on. ANYWHO…)

Mostly, I think, I’m indecisive because I have SO many things I want to do. Need to do. So many stories I want to tell. So many things I think I should be doing. Things I could be doing instead of what I’m actually doing (ahem, writing).

Too many options. Many variables. Infinite possibilities.

And yet, the minute I take a step towards one of those things, uncertainty comes flooding in. What if I make the wrong decision? What if I pick the wrong path? What if I change my mind? What if I upset someone, somehow, by invoking my autonomy?! The horror.

Indecision can be paralysing, meaning you miss out on something you might have enjoyed. Or something that could have been useful to you.

Indecision can be misleading, meaning you end up impulsively saying yes/no to something you don’t/do want to do. .

Mmkay. And how is this related to writing, Jo?

Well, I’ll tell you, weird third-person self-interjection.

Because indecision can also be the bane of creativity, productivity, executive function, self-belief, and just having a fun ol’ time making up stories with your brain.

Look. We’re all out here trying to figure out what to write, how to write it, what to do with it when we’ve written it, and how to be writers, right?

But only a small portion of that has anything to do with how ‘good’ we are at writing.

A huge portion of being a writer is about the decisions you make along the way.

I’ve been doing a lot of thinking around why/how/when I say yes/no/maybe, lately — and whether I’m doing it for my own good, for someone else’s good, or because of some unspoken sense of duty/responsibility/societal expectation/self-flagellation/imposter-syndrome/blahhhhhh reasons.

More importantly, I’ve been trying to figure out whether or not those decisions are worth it. If they’re taking me in the direction I wanna go — or where I should be going. If they’re making me a better writer, teacher, editor, person, sea sponge, whatever. If they’re making me happy, dagnammit.

And so, here beginneth our fixiony lessons for today — on how decision-making can help you fix your fiction (and maybe even your life):

Lesson #1: Say yes

Image by Jon Tyson

Say yes to writing (and reading) the stories you love. (And don’t let anyone make you feel stupid for loving them.) Writing should not be a chore. Yes, it can be difficult and challenging and frustrating, but it should also be a joy to puzzle out your plot and psychoanalyse your characters and immerse yourself in a fictional world of your own making. This is what makes our brains fizz! So only ever say yes to a story you can truly fall in love with. And surround yourself with fiction that enriches your soul.

Say yes to writing the most exciting thing first. Guess what? You don’t have to write in linear order. Jump to the fun bit. Skip the boring bits. Put your main WIP away for the day and have a lil’ fun with your WIP-on the side. Write what feels right at any given moment. Our writing time is often so limited, why the hell should you force yourself to write something you’re not excited about?

Say yes to opportunities that connect you with good people and good things. Not every opportunity in the arts world is going to pay (lolll) but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t get involved in things for fun, for free, for community, for learning, for development, for networking, for generosity. (To be clear, we have a long way to go before we’re all paid fairly for our writing time, but my point here is that sometimes opening yourself up to positive opportunities often leads to even more cool things.)

Say yes to (the right kind of) feedback. Get comfortable with sharing your work. Ok, maybe we’ll never be comfortable with that, but get slightly less ARGH about this kind of vulnerability. Stop hoarding your writing. Find someone whose opinion you trust and value (oh, hi!), and get some objectivity. Even if you disagree with feedback, it still gives you valuable information about your story, and that in itself can lead to some kind of decision-making.

Say yes to your gut. Only you know what your story is supposed to look like. Only you have that vision in your head. Follow your gut and hold your ground. Of course you should take on useful advice and guidance and feedback and input, but don’t let anyone dictate how your story should be told. (Yes, even me.) This one really circles back to tapping into what makes you excited about your work, and figuring out how you might share that excitement with your readers.

Say yes to change (or even starting over). I talked about this in last month’s Fixion Lessons but it bears repeating. Sometimes we get stuck in indecision because we know that taking action is going to be a lot of work. Or scary (see below). But sometimes indecision is simply a holding pen for change, waiting for you to make that move into something different. And movement is always better than staying still.

Say yes to new and scary things. In a similar vein, say yes to the thing that terrifies you. Whether that’s sharing your work or entering that competition or trying a new genre or reading your work aloud. Money where my mouth is: I’m freakin’ terrified about performing a piece at an upcoming Brighton Fringe show but I’m gonna freakin’ do it anyway. Why? Because I’m saying yes to opportunities and exciting things and good people and my gut and all the above. Because saying no might be easier, but I’d never know how much fun the yes could be.

What have you said ‘yes’ to lately that benefitted your writing?

Of course, yeses are all well and good, but that’s not to say sometimes ‘no’ isn’t the right answer, too…

Lesson #2: Say no

Image by Madalyn Cox

Say no to overwhelm. Actually, this whole section could be renamed ‘say fuck off to… xyz’ because really, enough with overloading ourselves, please. Say no to extra responsibilities when you’re already at capacity. Taken on too much? Putting too much pressure on yourself? Juggling all the things and dropping most of them? Say no to as much as you can. Let things settle. The right people will wait and be patient and understand. Your writing will wait and be patient and understand. Your story will still be there when you’re less overwhelmed and ready to give it some attention again. Figure out what is a priority for you right now and only say yes to that. It might be your writing, it might not. That’s ok.

Say no to FOMO. See above. That submission call, that deadline, that competition, that workshop, that opportunity? They can wait. Let them pass. They will come around again. New, better things will come around again. If you’re not in the right place to take something on, say no. If your story isn’t ready to send out yet, say no. If you’re only doing something because you’re antsy about missing out, or envious of others who get to do it, say no. Be purposeful about your writing, what you do with it, and where you send it.

Say no to your inner (and outer) critic. While we’re at it, tell your inner critic to go fuck themselves. Say a polite but curt ‘thanks for your input’ to outside criticism that serves no constructive purpose and move the fuck along. Say no to that voice that tells you you’re not good enough. Even if you secretly agree with them. Yell “maybe not yet!” and get back to work.

Say no to putting your writing last. Make time for your writing and stick to it. It doesn’t have to be every day but you do have to value it. And make sure others do, too. Your writing time deserves to be taken seriously, so find a way to ringfence it in your diary, schedule it, and orchestrate the right environment for your stories to thrive. Say no to letting it fall to the bottom of your list.

Say no to gatekeeping. We’re just flipping the bird to everyone at this point, but honestly — a big fuck no to anyone who puts any kind of limitations on what you should and can be writing. Say no to the latest Twitter beef on how many publications you should have in a year, or which ones are ‘prestigious’, or what tense you shouldn’t write in. Say no to even engaging with that shit. Writing is free and you’re free to write. Sidestep these petty distractions and get. to. work.

Got a big fat ‘hell no ‘ to share? Lay it on me, baby, I’m fired up and ready to fight someone on your behalf.

Ok, now let’s all calm down a little and embrace some ambivalence — because, indecision aside, sometimes the answer is neither yes or no…

Lesson #3: Say maybe?

Image by Emily Morter

Say maybe to the unknown, to the ‘what ifs’, to unfamiliar terrorities, to things outside your comfort zone, to experimentation!

Because once those yeses and nos become clearer, you’re free to foster an all encompassing ‘why the fuck not?’ attitude to anything that might lead you somewhere new. Anything that might expand your perspective. Anything that might test your skills and develop your craft and surprise you. Anything that might feel a little bit uncomfortable (heaven forfend). Anything that might make your brain fizz in brand new ways.

Say maybe ALL the way through the writing and editing process. Maybe you could rewrite this scene in a different way. Maybe your character actually doesn’t want to do what they’re told (and maybe that’s more interesting). Maybe you’re writing a totally different story to the one you planned. Maybe you need to learn more about a certain subject or a certain writing technique before you can move forward. Maybe you need fresh eyes on your work. Maybe you’re bored of this story and should try something new. Maybe that’s all ok?! Maybe you don’t need anyone else’s approval and could just enjoy writing for the joy of it for a while?

Maybes are future yeses. Or perhaps future nos. Who knows? But the difference between a ‘maybe’ and indecision is the fact that you’re giving them a try. At least you’re doing something.

A maybe example: I haven’t submitted much lately. I’ve been meaning to but… things have been busy. I don’t have time to write anything new. I have a list of submission deadlines and competitions that keep passing me by. I have a heap of unfinished/unedited drafts that aren’t quite ready to be sent out yet. Oh well. They were clear nos. No FOMO.

But then a particular submission call started nagging at me, and as the deadline got closer and closer, I started getting that maybe sensation. Maybe I could polish up a few stories and send them in. Maybe I could spare a few hours one evening to give them my full attention. Maybe that could be fun. No pressure, no guilt, no panic — just an innocent little maybe, creating a subtle fizz of excitement...

And, as it happened, I did find the time. I did have fun polishing. I did get a couple of stories together. I did send them in.

Maybe they’ll get rejected. So it goes. Maybe they won’t. But that singular maybe moment meant that not only did I manage to yeet some fresh stories into the void, I also gained the momentum to look at some other drafts I’d been ignoring, and consider another competition deadline that’s approaching.

And maybe those stories still won’t be ready in time. Maybe I’ll miss out on this one. So it goes. But I won’t regret the time I’ve spent giving it all a go. I won’t regret making a decision to try instead of staying stuck in the indecision of whether or not it’d be worth it.

So what are the ‘maybes’ that could take your writing somewhere new?

Lemme know!

And if you’re feeling stuck with your writing, perhaps ask yourself: what am I feeling indecisive about?

Because there are only three answers to whatever that might be: yes, no, or maybe.

Pick one.

And happy writing. :)