Writing Is About Making Choices

If you can’t decide which writing project to work on, here’s how to prioritize.

One of the most surprising bummers of adult life, in addition to all the brutally boring paperwork involved, is that one has to repeatedly make choices, and furthermore, that whenever we choose something, we are choosing against something else. Even passively letting something happen or not happen is a kind of a choice. And then! Adding insult to injury! We are responsible for the outcomes of our choices. There’s simply no getting around it.

This is true in writing, too. If I focus on this very piece you are reading now, for example, then I can’t really be writing a short story at the same time, can I? The stakes are raised when we’re talking about books, because books take such a long time. What if I want to write a comic novel and I want to write a lyric memoir-in-fragments and I want to write a deeply researched narrative nonfiction book? And, to paraphrase iconic brat Veruca Salt, what if I want it to do it all now?

Personally, I might (as I have before) try to bluster on, convinced that I can do all of these things at once, only to become frustrated and perhaps a little mystified about why everything is so slow-going or, more likely, stalling out altogether. In fact, I have done this, trying to write simultaneously both a novel and a nonfiction book that would have taken loads of research, which I had neither the time nor energy to actually do. Guess what? I was unable to keep both mistresses happy. Look, love is expansive and I’m all for a creative polycule of projects, but there is the space-time continuum to contend with, especially because I also have to make a living and raise my children (these are my constraints, likely you have your own). And thus,  I can only write one book at a time. 

You have to choose. You have to try to make the right decision and then, as the saying goes, you have to make that decision right.

But how to know which to focus on first?

The answer to that question is as simple as it is terrible: You have to choose. You have to try to make the right decision and then, as the saying goes, you have to make that decision right.

I work one-on-one with writers who are stuck, and very often what is sticking them is not a lack of ideas (this is why I think the threat of the dreaded “writer’s block” is a little overblown) but on the contrary, an excess of ideas, and a reluctance – or inability – to choose which to focus on.  

In these cases, I always think the first order of business is to do a little self-reflection. 

Here are some questions I’d ask a writer who has mulitple book ideas or projects in mind:

1. What would you need to complete each project? In terms of, say, support? Like, perhaps, a class or writing coach or accountability partner? What about the ability to travel, or access to archives, or time? And what quality of time does each require? 

   Phase two of this question is: Which of these needs is it possible to serve in your current actual life? Yes, the one you’re living right now. Are there things on this list that you could work towards obtaining (grant money, for example)? And – careful now – are those things absolutely necessary, or are you using the absence of them as a way to stall? 

2. What is your ultimate goal as a writer? It’s crucial here that you’re utterly honest with yourself. This might be to build your brand in your chosen field, or to create an epic YA trilogy, or to write a quiet literary novel that’s the kind of thing you like to read. It might be to hone your craft. It might be to share a specific story with the world. Once you have narrowed this down, think about how each project idea potentially builds towards this goal, and if applicable, which idea is most connected to said goal.

   Oh, and when you’re thinking about goals, make sure these are things that you are in control of. An example of a useful goal is: To write a steamy romance novel. An example of an un-useful goal is: To have a book be an international bestseller. I’d call that more of a dream, and of course it’s also good to have dreams! But in writing and publishing, there are no sure things, and so much is out of the writer’s control. So for this exercise, focus on goals you are in control of.

3. Which project excites you the most? And by that I mean not intellectually but somatically? Is there one project that, when you think about it, gives you a little burst of energy?

I’m guessing there’s one project that’s floated to the top here. The project that you actually have the resources to complete, the project that serves your ultimate writing goal, the project that gives you a little jolt of energy. Guess what: She’s the one to write first. The others will have to wait their turns.

You may find yourself hitting some resistance here. “But I don’t know how to write that book yet.” “But the other book idea is probably more commercial.” “But how can I know? How can I be sure that if I spend years working on a book, anything will come of it? Isn’t it better to hedge my bets and keep working on a zillion things at once?”

In a way, these are all the same question, and it’s: “But what if I fail?” 

And I mean, yes. Yes, what if? 

I work one-on-one with writers who are stuck, and very often what is sticking them is not a lack of ideas (this is why I think the threat of the dreaded “writer’s block” is a little overblown) but on the contrary, an excess of ideas, and a reluctance – or inability – to choose which to focus on.

On one hand, if you never commit to the book idea you really care about, that potential book will always stay perfect and impossible for anyone to criticize. Because no one will have read it. Because you haven’t written it. It’s like the relationship you don’t actually have, the crush that stays a crush. Pure fun and potential and… not really real. Sorry!

On the other hand. Let’s say you do commit to the book. What’s the worst possible outcome? Maybe you spend many years and expend much blood, sweat, and tears writing it. You will miss some television shows everyone else sees. You might lose some morning hours to sleeping, or some weekend hours to leisure activities. Let’s say that book never gets published. Let’s say you never even finish it. What then? Was that time wasted? 

It seems to me that the worst thing that might happen is that you end up spending a lot of time and focus trying to do something well. Working hard at something that interests you, that you care about, that perhaps gives you moments of pleasure. And that’s really not so terrible. In fact, it’s still kind of good. Writing has rewards beyond the finished product.

What’s more – you’ll definitely never write the book if you don’t write the book. 

If this all sounds like woo-woo life coaching from an unlicensed therapist rather than actual writing advice, that’s because so much of writing is actually psychology. Or that’s my theory anyway, and I did get an A in my high school psychology class even though I frequently argued with the teacher for some psychologically complex reason. That’s a whole other essay, though, and I’ve prioritized this one! See?

If you never commit to the book idea you really care about, that potential book will always stay perfect and impossible for anyone to criticize. Because no one will have read it. Because you haven’t written it.

Point is: When you’re having trouble making a decision, it’s likely because of some psychological blocker masking itself as logic. Maybe you’re trying to protect yourself from disappointment, which is sort of sweet and also sort of, forgive me, totally stupid. Disappointment stings but I’m certain that if you have made it into adulthood, you’ve already survived much worse.

Writing is, in the end, about making choices. Unless you’re writing a very specific genre that purposefully traffics in tropes, you make the rules of your book. As you create the world of your book, you make decisions and stick with them – decisions about voice, about point of view, about tense, about pacing. If you’re writing memoir, you make decisions about what to include and what to leave out. If you’re writing fiction, you make decisions about who the characters are and what happens to them. 

What I’m saying is, if you want to write a book, you might as well get used to making choices. And yes, any time you have a choice – in writing, in life – you might be making the wrong one. But you just also might be making the right one.

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Amy Shearn

is a co-founder of the experimental educational cooperative Writing Co-Lab – check out all their classes here – and works one-on-one with writers to edit, shape, and unstuck their creative projects. Her next novel, Dear Edna Sloane, is available for preorder.