#270: Why Writing Feels Harder Than It Has To

Most writers assume the struggle is just part of the deal. That if it feels hard, they must be doing something wrong, or not working hard enough, or not talented enough. What if none of that is true? This episode will change the way you think about every writing session from here on out.

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Transcript

What Figure Skating Can Teach About Writing

Releasing Attachment On Outcome

Taking More Creative Control

Nothing to Lose

Why Writing Feels Hard

The Secret To Writing Without Attachment to the Outcome

Nothing to Lose, Only Something To Build

The Value of Non Attachment, and What That Means

On Finding Joy In the Struggle

Looking for the Gain

The Value of Small Progress

SPEAKER_00 0:00

Non-attachment means you care about the work without making the outcome the measure of your worth. It means you can want the finished book without making the finished book the thing that decides whether you are a real writer. Writer Unleashed is for you, a writer who has the story you want to bring onto the page and into the hearts and minds of readers. I'm Nancy Pinuccio, writer, editor, and book coach. Each week, we'll explore techniques, mindsets, and inspiration for writing stories readers can't put down. Thanks for spending some time with me today. Now let's begin. I don't have television. So shortly after Alyssa took the gold medal, I saw clips of her free skate all over social. I had never heard of her before. I had never seen her skate. And from the instant I saw the video of her free skate, I could not take my eyes off her. She had me captivated in a way no other skater has probably in decades. Now, technically, the other Olympic skaters were great, but they didn't have the same energy. They didn't have the same joy, the same ease, or even connection to the audience. Now, Alyssa Liu is technically brilliant, but she has that X factor that's hard to pin down. And she's relaxed. She's totally in the zone. She's connected, and you feel great just watching her. And it doesn't matter how many times you watch her, she's exciting. Here's the interesting thing about Alyssa Liu. She retired in 2022 when she was 16 because of burnout. So, what did she do during that time? She nourished herself, she traveled, she spent time with her friends, she went to school. She didn't ever intend to skate again, but of course, the skating instinct was still in her. And eventually she called up her coaches and told them she wanted to compete again. Here is why she won the gold. Number one, she wasn't attached to the outcome. She was at the Olympics to share her joy of skating. She wasn't there to win the gold. She was there to immerse herself in the joy of skating and share that with the world. Getting the gold was an after-effect of that. Number two, she insisted on owning the creative experience. She told her coaches she was going to eat what she wanted, when she wanted, she would choose her own music and have a hand in the choreography. If she felt she was skating too much, she would rest. And if she thought she wasn't skating enough, she would ramp it up. But she let go of the outcome. And in interviews since winning the gold, she's shared her philosophy. There's nothing to lose. Every second, you're gaining something. I want to sit with that for a minute because it sounds simple, almost too simple. But I think it's one of the most radical things a person can believe, especially when they're in the middle of doing something hard and challenging. I mean, imagine the stakes in the Olympics. She was competing at the highest level of her sport. The stakes were real, and she had found a way to hold all of that: the training, the pressure, the years of work without gripping it, without attaching herself to the outcome so tightly that the fear of losing it became the thing running the show. She wasn't detached, she cared deeply, but she wasn't attached to the outcome. And those two things are completely different. Now, let me bring this back to you and the book you're writing or hoping to write. I talk to writers all the time who've been working on their story for years, sometimes two years, sometimes five, often much longer than that. And when I ask them what's getting in the way, they say things like, I'm not sure where to go next with this or how to structure it. I'm overwhelmed. Is my outline okay? Is my story concept interesting enough? What they say in a hundred different ways is some version of, I'm afraid. Afraid the book won't be good enough. Afraid they'll finish it and it won't matter. Afraid they'll discover somewhere in the second half that the whole thing was a big mistake and they wasted all this time. Afraid they'll find out once and for all that they're not really a writer. And here's what I notice: the writers who are most afraid are often the ones who want it the most. They have a deep, genuine, burning desire to write and finish this book. And that desire, that thing that should be fueled, has somehow become the source of fear or of resistance. Because when you want something badly, you also become aware of everything you could lose. You start doing the math on failure, you overthink, you walk into every writing session carrying the weight of what it would mean if this doesn't work out. And that weight, that low-grade anxiety, it's in the room with you every time you open your document. It's sitting in the chair next to you. And you're trying to write with all of that, and it's shutting down the part of your brain that keeps you writing with joy that keeps you in the flow. No wonder the work feels hard. No wonder the work feels heavy. You're not just writing, you're writing while simultaneously managing a risk assessment. What Alyssa Lu understood, what I think writers who write books that readers connect to, that readers are eager to read, is that the fear of losing something is only possible when you believe you already have something to lose. You may have only a dream of writing your novel or memoir. You may have several pages, you may have hundreds of pages, you have an idea that matters to you. You may even have a finished draft. Wherever you are in your process, there's nothing to lose, only something to build. Every single time you sit down to write, you are gaining something. A clearer sense of your character, a paragraph that surprised you, a scene that finally clicked, an understanding of what your story is actually about that you didn't have yesterday. Even a bad writing session, even the days where everything you write feels like you should just trash it, you are gaining something. You're learning what the book is and what it isn't. You're getting closer by eliminating what is clouding the story, what's getting in the way of the story. There is no version of sitting down to write where you lose ground. You only ever move forward. The moment you start believing that, I mean, really believing it in your body, not just as a concept, something shifts, the grip loosens, the sessions get lighter, the work starts to feel more joyful, more like a thriving practice. Now, non-attachment is not the same as not caring. Alyssa Liu was not out there ever thinking whatever happens, happens. She cared enormously. She'd spent her entire life preparing for those moments on the ice. She trained. Her coach had her connected to a harness while practicing jumps. Without the harness, she fell down over and over and over again with a big smile on her face. She said she likes the struggle. Did you hear that? She likes the struggle. It makes her feel alive. Non-attachment means you care about the work without making the outcome the measure of your worth. It means you can want the finished book without making the finished book the thing that decides whether you're a real writer. You're a real writer because you write. Real writers write. It's not because you've published, not because you've finished or not finished, not because someone gave you permission or a credential or a five-star review. That's not what makes you a writer. Wherever you are in the process, as long as you're writing, you are a writer. The writers who finished their books have somewhere along the way separated their identity from the outcome. The book is something they're making. They're in it, they're figuring it out. It's not a verdict on who they are. That separation is one of the most important things a writer can cultivate. And most people don't learn it alone. They need someone to show them it's even possible and then remind them of it over and over every time the fear or resistance convinces them otherwise. So here's what I want to leave you with today. The next time you sit down to write and the anxiety or fear shows up, and it will show up, I want you to ask yourself one question. What am I gaining right now? Not what could go wrong, not whether the writing is good enough, not whether this is all a big mistake, just what am I gaining? Are you gaining more insight into your story? Are you gaining more self-compassion, self-acceptance, or compassion for the people you might be basing your characters on? Are you gaining more writing skill? Because the answer is always something. Always. You're gaining the next sentence, the next paragraph, the next small, imperfect, genuinely your step toward the book that's waiting for you on the other side of all this struggle. There is nothing to lose. Every time you sit down to write, you're gaining something, even when it feels like you're not. Even small progress, small incremental steps forward is progress. So let go of the outcome, release your grip on expectations, revel more in the process and the questions that are coming up as you write. You really have nothing to lose and everything to gain. So there you have it. Thanks for hanging out with me today. If you know any writers who need some support in their writing, please share this episode or the Writer Unleash podcast in general. And if you love what you're listening to, subscribe on your favorite listening platform. And if you're listening on Apple, please leave me a review. Reading how this podcast impacts your writing truly lights me up and helps me create topics for the show. Till next time, keep writing and I'll talk to you soon.