Most writers I know, real writers or advertising writers, write slowly.
They labor over word choices.
They obsess over metaphors.
I heard that Robert Caro and one of his closest friends, the superstar editor Robert Gottlieb, once came nearly to blows over a semi-colon Gottlieb wanted in and Caro wanted out.
Most of all, writers write slowly because they make a fuss about getting started.
All that Hemingway bushwa (which is somewhat redundant) about facing the white bull that is paper.
I write fast.
Very fast.
For about 19 reasons. Or at least four.
First, I do 98-percent of my research on a topic before I start writing.
Second, I do 98-percent of my writing before I face a blank page or my keyboard. I usually have an opening or two and a closing or two that I've written in my head and either remembered or forgotten. It doesn't much matter which. I've got things blocked out.
Third, I fear competition. I'm afraid someone will do the job before I get a chance and I'll lose the assignment. Though that's never happened to me in the 43 years I've been a paid writer, it could any day now. I'd rather beat the other person to the punch. I'd rather them have to top me than me have to top them.
Fourth, I fear ghosts.
I don't mean spooks or spirits or apparitions or even spectres. I mean I fear my neurosis catching up to me. I fear second-guessing overtaking me in the home stretch. I fear if I go slow, indecision and overthink will hobble me.
So, I write fast to outrun all those ghosts.
Like Achilles when he slayed Hector after Hector killed Achilles' best-friend Patroclus.
I ain't waiting on the battlefield for the right moment for revenge. I ain't waiting for the perfect angle and the open shot. I've thrown enough javelins. I'm letting fly. I'm hoping for the best.
If I miss with that javelin, I'll hurry to plan b.
But, miss or not, live or die, I've taken the shot that was best for me at the moment based on the moment I'm in, the experience I have and the foe I'm facing.
That's a round-about way of repeating the best writing advice I ever got. When I was stuck on something and afraid to show my boss, the Vice Chairman at Ogilvy and writer of the most famous commercial ever.
I was afraid to show him 40 spots I had written.
Afraid he'd hate them. Hate me. Fire me.
I talked to my therapist about my paralysis.
"George," he said, "your good is other people's great." That's part one. Find a soupcon of self-belief and force yourself to believe it.
"Press the send button," he said next. That's part two. Put yourself out there.
If you believe part one, even for a moment, you can do part two.
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