Writers (and I assume other artists) spend a lot of time talking and thinking about their tools. The qualities they like in a pen or a notebook. Their favorite word- or image-processing software. Everyone will make slightly different choices, for a variety of reasons, from budget to physical needs to aesthetics.
I think it’s possible to be too precious about it. By idealizing the perfect set up, you can create a mental trap in which you don’t feel like you can create when your circumstances are anything less than perfect. But there is no denying that my thoughts come easier when I’m physically enjoying the process of watching ink meet paper. I’ve continued to feed my new obsession with fountain pens, for that very reason.
Having said all that, there are times when I reach for the cheapest possible tools: scratch paper and a cheap giveaway pen with someone else’s logo on it. Things I didn’t spend any money on, and that other people might throw out without a second thought.
There is magic in using things that are just this side of the trash can, and that’s because I can trick my insecurities and self-doubt by telling myself, “This isn’t very important. And I’m definitely not showing this to anyone else.” That magic is so real to me that I keep a stack of printed-on-one-side paper in a dedicated spot in my office.
Here are four times I reach for it:
When I’m overwhelmed by my To-Do list.
For me, the primary symptom of “overwhelm” is that I’m not doing anything at all. Because there are too many things to choose from, and everything seems both urgent and important, and I’m afraid to miss something vital by choosing to work on something else. Once this fear gets a hold of me, there’s no point in looking at the To-Do list again, because it’s only going to make it worse. So – I grab the scratch paper and make a NEW list. This time, just the things that leap to the front of my brain. Usually, just the act of writing them down soothes that panic, and I regain my rational ability to prioritize. As soon as I’ve finished one thing off that temporary list, I can usually throw it out, and go back to the original.
When I’m having trouble wrapping my brain around the thing that I’m working on right now.
When I’m writing, this sometimes happens because I have a very specific sequence of events, or information reveals, that need to happen in a scene, but I keep getting distracted by the character’s strong emotional state. Backing all the way out to my outline or my big-picture view of the story might be too distracting. Instead, I’ll grab a piece of scratch paper and make a list of the Most Important things to help keep me on task. I’ll set that paper right next to the monitor until I finish the scene.
When I want a completely “off-the-record” chance to try out an idea.
For me, this most often comes up when I have a project already in progress, and I have a sudden wacky notion to change something that could derail the whole project if it doesn’t work. Sometimes that worry—that my whole project could be ruined by this idea—can paralyze me and keep me from really exploring it properly. If I try it out on scratch paper first, the possibility of just throwing it away and pretending it never happened helps me be less guarded.
When my work session is off to a Bad Start and I don’t know why.
I have days when I can’t quite focus on the thing I’m supposed to be focusing on and I catch myself slipping into my usual procrastination habits, no matter how loud my inner scold gets. Anytime I realize an hour has passed, and I’ve made no progress on… anything, it’s time to figure out what my subconscious is avoiding. (Usually it’s fear. Sometimes anger. Very occasionally, the most dangerous of all things: hope.)
The thing is, my subconscious is sneaky, and if it’s avoiding something, it wants to keep avoiding it. So, I have to be sneaky back. Scratch paper, again, does the trick, because I know I’m not going to keep it around. It feels less risky to face those fears and insecurities on scratch paper, but it still works. Once I know what my subconscious didn’t want me to know, I can deal with it directly.
But I still throw out the scratch paper. That’s the deal.