Resisting the Resistance: A Writer’s Struggle
On divorcing the negativity that has kept me from pursuing my purpose.
There’s a secret that real writers know that wannabe writers don’t, and the secret is this: It’s not the writing part that’s hard. What’s hard is sitting down to write.
What keeps us from sitting down is Resistance.
-Steven Pressfield (The War of Art)
Setting the Scene
For a long time, I believed that, having published two books (a novel and short story collection), several short stories, thousands of pieces of journalism, and countless bits of ad copy, I had this whole writing thing figured out. After all, I had been making a living as a writer. People were paying me to complete writing assignments. I was doing it.
Only, I wasn’t. At least, not in the way I had envisioned.
One month, I wanted to go all-in on journalism. Then it was content writing. Then it was screenwriting. Then it was copywriting. Then it was journalism again. And so on and so on.
All these forms of writing are great and potentially fulfilling, but they weren’t, deep down, what I wanted to commit myself to. I wanted to write fiction. Yet, I wasn’t writing fiction. This paradox befuddled me. It seemed that no matter what I did, I just couldn’t get myself to write something I believed in.
So, I continued writing journalism and ad copy. I developed non-writing hobbies that pulled me even further away from what I knew I ought to be doing. And inside, I was suffering from serious depression and discontent by virtue of this tension.
This went on for three years.
Now, I’m hard at work on my third book—an encyclopedic novel—and I think it’s the most important work I’ve ever been involved in. But, the obvious question is how I got here from where I was just a couple months ago.
The Breakthrough
There was no sudden solution. There was no epiphany that struck me like a sharp jab from Zeus’ crackling lightning bolt. The Breakthrough, as I refer to it, happened over time, as all good things do.
The first step was to be in the throes of sadness, depression, and suicidal ideation, convinced that, whatever I’d wanted to do with my life, it was simply not in the proverbial cards. I started too late. I wasn’t good enough. I wasn’t doing sellable stuff. I wasn’t good-looking enough (seriously, this was a thought). Writing was pointless. Life was pointless. My life, especially, was without any direction, careening into the abyss. Blah blah.
This first step was essential for me, because, without it, I wouldn’t have felt the absolute need to get clarity on my life if I was going to go on living.
I needed to find out what made the soil of these terrible feelings so fertile. Beneath the whining and complaining and woe-is-me, I discovered that, in my guts, I wanted to dedicate myself to fiction, but that I had told myself, again and again, it wasn’t possible for me.
Still, I didn’t know how to act on this discovery. I wanted to write fiction, sure, but I was still plagued by perfectionism and paralysis by analysis. It’s one thing to know something intellectually. It is wholly another to take action on that knowledge.
Despite knowing what I wanted to do, the gears were still jammed. I needed something else to really knock the dust and rust off the cogs.
Then I read The War of Art—a book Ryan Holiday (Daily Stoic) apparently reads before beginning any new writing project.
In the book, Pressfield introduces the reader to a concept he calls the Resistance, as mentioned in the quote at the top of this post. The Resistance could be defined as anything that keeps you from pursuing your purpose, be it procrastination or self-flagellating, day in, day out.
I was guilty on both accounts.
The most subtle element of the Resistance is that it didn’t come from someone or somewhere else. Its genesis developed within my own skull.
As Pressfield writes:
Resistance is not a peripheral opponent. Resistance arises from within. It is self-generated and self-perpetuated. Resistance is the enemy within.
And again:
Rule of thumb: The more important a call or action is to our soul’s evolution, the more Resistance we will feel toward pursuing it.
Real, meaningful artistic endeavors are, in themselves, forms of the Hero’s Journey. I believe that. Can I right the ship that’s headed for that steep waterfall? Can I overcome the destructive modes of thinking that insist I can’t do it? Can I get myself to sit in a chair, for an extended amount of time, to tell the story I really believe I was put here to tell?
Well, yes, of course I can, but it requires a readjustment of how I’ve been living my life up to this point.
Resisting the Resistance
For me, I understand that I must actively ensure four daily habits are taking place in my life at any given time, if I have a snowball’s shot in Tartarus of accomplishing my writing goals.
Simplifying life: Virtually all peripheral distractions must fade away. That new TV show that’s coming out? It can wait. Trying to increase my rating on Chess.com? It can wait. Clicking around on YouTube? Never again. The more narrow the variables are in my life, the better shot I have of resisting the Resistance, and, as a result, the more time I will have to sit in my chair and write something worthwhile.
Holding myself accountable: I understand what my creative purpose is in my life. Now, it’s time to make good on it. No more rationalizing away what I’m supposed to be doing. “Unwinding” or “taking a break” are, oftentimes, euphemisms used by the Resistance to keep me in a steady state of procrastination. I understand this now. No more exceptions. No more rationalizing. No more.
Dedication to the craft: Some days are going to suck. Some days are going to be challenging. Some days, I’ll want to throw in the towel. Some days, I’ll question why I’m still doing this thing called writing. But I’ll know the answer, and I’ll know the entity (i.e., the Resistance) that keeps trying to feed me the same old negativity.
I’m alone…and that’s okay: No one can possibly help me in this endeavor. Because all the variables arise within my own skull, I’m left alone to fend off the apparitions that insist I’m not cut out for this kind of work. I know I am. I’ve published a lot of material in my life. It’s just that this time, what I write will be what I feel must be written. No more asking for help or permission from those around me. No more dragging others down with my pity parties. Whether I fail or succeed, it’s all up to me. I own it all.
For the first time, maybe ever, I have clarity on what I’m supposed to be doing with my life. I’m supposed to be working on this novel. I’m supposed to be reading every single day.
I’m supposed to be writing on Substack—if not to aid others, then to aid myself.
Creative work is…a gift to the world and every being in it. Don’t cheat us of your contribution. Give us what you’ve got.
-The War of Art