Or you do have a vice but refrain from recognising it as such, preferring to couch it in softer, less problematic words. It’s a ‘habit’, a ‘characteristic’, a ‘foible’, a ‘thing “I’ve always done like that”…’
I’m talking about writing vices. Obviously.
Indeed, you may have more than one — there are enough to go around!
But what do I mean by ‘vice’? According to one dictionary definitions there are various flavours:
immoral or wicked behaviour [the one we normally land on!];
a tool to hold something in place;
next in rank to (e.g. as in vice-captain).
“What’s the problem with admitting to the odd vice?” That might be your opening gambit. “Having a vice proves you’re human, doesn’t it?”
In terms of you as writer, your vices might spur you on to greater things — or stop you making any forward progress at all.
The most dangerous vice of all is the one which remains unacknowledged…
I suspect most often vices are hiding in plain sight; we know they’re there, but resolutely refuse to admit to them or call them out. In some cases these vices can be akin to the symptoms of a disease you have chosen not to recognise — though not recognising it might also mean you won’t do anything to find a remedy for it.
One common trait of writerly vices is that they are often chosen, the result of having come to some kind of writing-related decision, a contract with yourself. Let’s briefly look at three common ones.
Editing
You edit too little or too much. The result is either that your work is never as good as you could possibly make it or your production is incredibly slow and you never finish anything. This vice is painfully visible, certainly in the second instance as demonstrated by lack of output.
Maybe you kid yourself and make your habit acceptable by laughing it off: you tell yourself the next thing you write is going to be so much better than what you are currently working on that you simply have to move on and leave the existing project as it is (i.e. unfinished and sub-optimal); or you believe only perfection is good enough, and hence you embark on edit number 6 or 13…. That next great idea is going to have to wait.
Neither end of the spectrum is good for you. Based on my own experience, I would have to suggest that novice writers tend to occupy the not-editing-enough end of the spectrum in part because they don’t accept or understand that editing is writing — after all, writing’s the fun part! When mentoring at writing retreats I have also seen those glued to the perfection end of the spectrum… In both cases there are ways to break free, to self-educate yourself into a better balance, but only if you recognise the vice first.
Imposter Syndrome
Perhaps this is an even more common ailment. Obviously your work isn’t very good — and you know it. Everyone else’s writing is so much better than yours, and occasionally you don’t really know why you bother at all…
Let’s be honest, in some cases this will be true; just as most people could never become a competent sculptor, so many people won’t have what it takes to be an effective writer (or painter, or opera singer etc.). However, hopefully your work will have merit, some quality, you just need to find a way to have that affirmed — and the best way to do that is to have someone else tell you that it’s okay. Validation. So sharing is vital — but also quite difficult if you suffer from Imposter Syndrome.
Oddly, this is a vice which can also be positive. Recognising your attachment to IS can spur you on to try and improve; you can use it as a driver rather than something which holds you back.
But there’s also a darker side to this particular coin: those who believe their work is brilliant, who know IS only affects other people. How can they themselves possibly suffer from it? Such arrogance is, I suggest, unhealthy — and doesn’t mean the work produced is any better than anyone else’s. Everyone can do with a little IS from time to time.
If you think your work is perfect, get over yourself; it isn’t, and never will be.
Process
Vice as ‘a tool to hold something in place’? Well what about process, a method or routine to which you adhere rigidly, and by doing so allows you to convince yourself you qualify as a writer?
1,000 words a day? Word-smithing from 9-11 every weekday morning? Keeping a log? Always starting each writing session with a quick sonnet? Posting every week on Substack? etc. None of these are negative per se, and all can be useful in terms of building a framework within which to be creative. The danger arises when we carry on with them even if they’re not effective, when we instinctively know we’re just ‘going through the motions’. At this point you run the risk that adhering to ‘the process’ becomes as important as your writing — maybe more so. And maybe because certain processes work for other people — the real writers — we think we need those self same processes for ourselves.
There is no perfect writing process or routine. We each work in different way, have different lives into which to fit our homage to the craft. To find one that really works for you there’s no alternative than discovering the ones that don’t and then casting them aside. This can be painful. It can take years to discover what you’re looking for.
Based on your output, you should be able to feel when a process isn’t helping, when it has become no more than a crutch. The depth, quality, volume of your output will be a guide. Trust your gut, it’s not often wrong.
And what about ‘Writer’s block’: surely that’s an affliction? Maybe — though I don’t think so. But it be evidence of an issue with a part of your ‘process’ — or an excuse not to write...
But wait. None of the above fall into the ‘immoral or wicked’ bucket. So are there no vices which we can label as such? Well, there’s a new kid on the block: Artificial Intelligence. What AI actually is can be hard to pin down, especially for the layperson; to a certain extent it’s how you choose to perceive it. Is MS Word or a spellchecker AI? Or what about ‘Grammarly’ or ‘Scrivener’? For some people any and all tech could be tarred with the AI brush.
But at the other extreme?
At the furthest point of the spectrum some people confess to using AI to create plots — and then use ChatGBT (or some such) to actually ‘write’ their first draft. These abdications are not ‘writing’. Full stop. Indeed, if that’s where your vice resides, then to my mind that disqualifies you as a writer. Surely a writer is an individual responsible for the entire creative process beginning to end, from the generation of initial idea all the way through to production of the final full-stop.
There are now free tools available on the internet which will help assess if a piece of work is AI-generated or not. As an Editor of anthologies, I plan to use them from time-to-time — after all, AI-produced material has already won prizes and competitions…
For any of the ‘vices’ above, recognition is the first step: to able to see them for what they are is the prerequisite for tackling them. It’s probably a bit like standing up at your first Alcoholics Anonymous meeting: “Hello, my name’s Sam and I’m a writer…” Many of the other writers at that fictional ‘AA meeting’ will be in the same boat as you; some will be going through the Cold Turkey of giving up unending editing or abandoning a treasured process, and others will be coming out the other side.
The trick for you as a writer is to be honest about your vices and tackle them head-on, but not in an aggressive or confrontational way. Remember, there are benefits to be had from editing thoroughly, sticking to a routine, being modest about your work; you need to be striving for balance to turn your vices into virtues.
At the outset I asked whether you should have a vice. A bit tongue-in-cheek as I suspect every writer has at least one in some form or another. But if you don’t? If your writing life is in perfect balance? Well, I’m not sure I believe you; but if that’s so there still might be some merit in trying to throw yourself off kilter now and again — try a new process, more/less editing etc. — just to see… And having seen, then turn what you have discovered about yourself and your relationship to your work into another virtue!
[Writing until the light goes out is free to read because I would much rather you buy one of my books than I charge you for engaging with my site.]
Great perception here Ian. As someone who vacillates, gives in to distractions ( that duvet cover must be changed), finds hard to say no, some really worthwhile advice. AI no, what's real out there far more addictive.