Avoidance and Writing: The Roberta Mickel Method
March 3, 2017 § 23 Comments
By Judith Sornberger
You would not believe how many things I’ve done today to avoid beginning this essay. (Except, if you’re a writer, you probably would.) I say writing means more to me than just about anything, but I would do almost anything some days to postpone putting pen to paper (including going shopping for a new, magic pen), especially when it comes to breaking the ice on a new writing project. This morning, for instance, I called a friend to commiserate on how little we’ve been writing. Then I scrubbed a pan that had soaked overnight in the sink, grocery shopped, stopped in at my local bookstore to check on a book I’d ordered (knowing full well it couldn’t have arrived yet) and, of course, had to browse. Then I went through my closet, wondering if it might be time to donate everything below size sixteen, my current size, which caused me to go for a power walk.
Usually, I procrastinate until the need to write becomes stronger than my fear and consequent resistance, which can take days or even weeks. But today I suddenly remembered the Roberta Mickel Method, named—by my sister and me—after our mother, its first practitioner.
Mom worked half-time as a bookkeeper, a job she loved. One reason she enjoyed it was that working outside the home two-and-a half days made the other two-and-a-half weekdays at home especially precious. Nevertheless, on those at-home days, there were plenty of at-home tasks she didn’t particularly enjoy. That was where her genius came in. After making her to-do list, she would choose the least appealing task, let’s say cleaning bathrooms, and tell herself she only had to work on it for half an hour. Then she could do whatever she pleased for half—or sometimes even a whole—hour. In summer that might mean sitting on the patio with a cigarette and a Diet Pepsi, tilting her head back so the sun bathed her face. In winter it might be tucking her feet beneath her as she read on her gold velvet couch.
Before retirement, I delighted in almost every aspect of college teaching—dreaming up exciting new courses, choosing textbooks, planning class sessions, and especially interacting with students in the classroom. But I constantly bemoaned my lack of writing time. And I hated grading papers, putting off starting to read a batch until the students began timidly asking when I might return them. I usually claimed to be reading them very closely, when the truth was that I hadn’t been able to bear removing them from my briefcase.
Wish I could say that I was writing instead of grading. But mostly I was puttering around the house, cruising Facebook, or deciding tonight was the perfect time to try that new and complicated recipe for paella, necessitating a two-hour round trip to a store that carried fresh mussels. At least I later wrote a poem about making that paella.
Then I would agonize on the phone to my sister who would remind me of the Roberta Mickel Method. By that time, I’d have collected so many papers that thirty minutes of grading wouldn’t have made a dent. So I’d set a timer for an hour, grade like a madwoman, and, when it buzzed, I’d go for a walk, read, or maybe even begin a poem. Since writing wasn’t my most loathsome chore, it rose to the category of reward.
Yet it feels wrong that I would use the same method to get going on a piece of writing that I’ve used for grading, especially since, once I get started, I love to write (some days more than others). Mom’s method provides a doorway into the place where writing can become absolute bliss. I tell myself all I have to do is buckle myself into my writing chair and work for half an hour, and, most days, I’m still spreading ink across the page an hour or two later. For to begin, whether you’re cleaning bathrooms or writing, is always the hardest part. As Goethe (second only to my mother in the wisdom department) famously wrote: “Whatever you can do, or dream you can, begin it. Boldness has genius, power, and magic in it.”
Take now, for instance. I began scribbling away on this essay at 1pm, telling myself I’d work for half an hour. Now it’s 2:30, and I’ve written, relatively painlessly, and somewhat joyously, an hour longer than planned. If Roberta Mickel were still alive, I think she might be cheering.
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Judith Sornberger’s newest poetry book, Practicing the World without You is forthcoming from Cavan Kerry Press in 2018. She’s the author of one full-length poetry collection Open Heart (Calyx Books) and five chapbooks, most recently Wal-Mart Orchid, winner of the 2012 Helen Kay Chapbook Prize. Her memoir The Accidental Pilgrim: Finding God and His Mother in Tuscany was published by Shanti Arts Publications in 2015.
Reblogged this on Yet Another English Prof and commented:
This is a method I will be trying … beginning today.
Hope it works for you!
Reblogged this on Erin Fanning and commented:
Procrastination and writing… How can something so pleasurable be equally dreaded? Read on for tips on how one writer used her mother’s cleaning list to become more productive.
Thanks for reposting!
I definitely going to remember this method. It is much better than my own – leave everything to the last minute and rush around filled with anxiety 😉
That’s my other method, Bernadette!
Inspired to write this:
As an English-as-a-foreign-language speaker, I used to think ‘procrastinate’ was a bad word. I never used it, I merely glanced at it from afar. Then I encountered it in such an environment, said with such glee and innocence, that I knew it couldn’t mean what I’d thought it had meant. I needed some more time to realise a) what ‘procrastinate’ meant, b) that I’d been mixing it up with ‘fornicate’, and c) that I was guilty of that one too.
Hilarious!
Hihi, quite. Thank you, Judith.
it’s a physics thing, isn’t it? Something about momentum? “A thing in motion…” Hmmm, maybe I should google that before I start writing…
Love it!
Thank you for this post. It certainly came at the right time–when my productivity is at its worst. As a master procrastinator though, I’m inclined to say that I’ll be trying the Roberta Mickel Method tomorrow. But I’ll be sure to give it a shot. 🙂
Yes, tomorrow is always a good day to begin!
Your mom was pretty ingenious! I used to do the same thing in college when the last thing I wanted to do was study or write an essay. I told myself it only had to be for five minutes!
This article reminded me that I should probably start doing this again..
https://theimpracticalone.wordpress.com/
Reblogged this on Mugglestones and Mayhem and commented:
Dinty explains exactly why I often can’t get started writing! I have a lovely new 45 min glass hourglass with purple sand. Do you think it will inspire me? (I guess I have to unpack it first). LOL. Keep on keeping on, writers!
Mo
It wasn’t Dinty who wrote the essay. It was me, Judith Sornberger
[…] The second short but telling comment I posted under a lovely procrastination story by Judith Sornberger at Brevity’s Non-fiction Blog: […]
Pretty deep story. Writing is a bit of an art form so it takes a lot to gather up the energy to produce great work. I can relate even though I consider myself a constant learner.
Great. Just great. I am grateful for how grate this piece is. I needed to see it. Thank you. I know I will get my papers completed in no time flat once I employ this method. Begin. Just begin……..
excuse the misspelled great^^^
Totally motivating and very realistic
Cool