I am a desperado. I go to war every day. Self-motivation is my battleground, and many days I limp off it, bloody and ready to die.
Oh, I have my excuses: start with personal management skills so bizarre they could probably not be charted. Hands down, I am the world’s worst boss–of myself or or anybody else–and certainly worse than any I have ever worked for (with a couple of exceptions). Then there’s attention deficit disorder and migraines and some other neurological oddities and on and on. But ultimately, who cares about the excuses? If you are serious about writing fiction, especially long fiction, it’s all about getting to the table. That’s Job #1 for a novelist. In the end nothing else matters.
For most of us, at best, self-motivation is hit-or-miss. Mine is split so many ways that the total result spans a scale from intense to “disaster,” so I need help. That’s why I’ve always been big on self-motivation methods.
One of my favorites is something I call “Desperado Self-Motivation.” I first tried it years ago, when I decided for the nth time to stop smoking. From the start, it didn’t look promising–as a musician, I was working in the worst possible types of environments––clubs, frat houses, and concert venues so smoke-filled that the whole enterprise seemed dead on arrival. But here’s where the Desperado machinery kicked in.
The bass player in the band I worked with also wanted to quit, so we made an agreement: the first to smoke would pay the other $50. The penalty would double in the second month, double again in the third, and so on, exponentially. At the end of six months, the penalty would have ballooned to $1,600, an unimaginable sum for me in those days.
A key supportive factor was that, since the band worked steadily, we would be able to monitor each other. This removed cheating as a factor, and––cut to the chase––it worked.
What made it work? In the crunch it was money, and it’s conceivable that money could be used in a like manner to goose your writing production–imagine a kind of NaNoWriMo with a financial gun to your head. But I’ve never come up with motivational factor that rivals the fear of losing cash.
The closest I’ve come is shame. The fear of failing PUBLICALLY. This is the basis of one NaNoWriMo Tip I posted last year: schedule a “Victory Party,” and send out the invitations.
Now, Michael Todd Cohen, a client of mine, has taken that idea to the absolute max. Not only has he planned a party plus reading, he’s started a blog and a Facebook page to promo it. On top of that, he’s rented a New York theater for the event, and reserved a nightclub for the party.
Michael’s goal? To produce a new draft of a novel I had critiqued for him, revising it drastically at a pace of 1,000 pages a day. When I last checked in with him, he was close to on schedule––and definitely ready to party––this Monday, July 19.
Not everyone can marshal Michael’s resources (he’s a TV producer) but with a little honest self-reflection, anyone can locate their own equivalent–the emotional pressure point that makes them squirm–and figure out their own ways to turn it toward positive action. How about you? Do you have a favorite self-motivational system? If so, please share.
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