On How to be Prolific

So at least once a year—but so far it’s been, like, five times this year—someone says something to me that I take as a very kind compliment. They say, “You’re so prolific!” Or “Jesus, T, how do you find time to do it all?” It’s an interesting question. But I’m forty-six enough to know that interesting questions don’t always yield useful answers, so I spent some time breaking this out. Maybe it will help someone? That would be awesome. Otherwise, just roll your eyes at my self-obsessed ‘introspection’ and move along, m’kay?

Here goes, by topical window …

Anarchic workflow

I will work on anything. I don’t give a shit what I had planned. I will work on whatever my mind wants to. So, for example, right now, I am writing this essay, which is sure to be one of literally 50+ drafts just chillin’ on Subby, while I’m also working on designing a D&D game for my kids, how to describe Azza-Jono to folks, thinking of a good intro for the Jenkinsverse, making a list of the literary company I keep, sorting out a story idea called “The Crossroads of Forever” (name subject to change), and working on general worldbuilding for projects, as well as paying bills and handling financial things. Sound overwhelming? It’s not because I don’t fight with any of it. I just take it as it comes. Some days that isn’t much. Others, it isn’t anything at all. I didn’t do much of shit over the weekend, aside from play video games by myself and with my kids. So keep your mind limber, as flexible as you can. Especially when you read this next one, which seems to contradict everything I just wrote …

Strict adherence to schedule

So while my workflow and the content of what I’m working on is literally all over the place, when I’m doing what is not. Writing time is writing time. Period. Can write whatever I want, including nothing, but that’s the time to focus on creative writing.

But T, you say, you said you’re paying bills and shit.

Yes, yes, but that’s at the end, after my creative shiz is done for the day. Unless it isn’t. But nine out of ten times, I stick to my schedule.

Related:

Weekends have no schedule.

As free as can be—that’s the only goal.

Messy systems of grace

That’s the term I just coined to describe how I’m willing to let my tidiness go in order to focus on production, imagination, and creation. I bathe at least every two days, or it gets gross, and I keep up with teeth, hair, and nails daily. But I am pretty willing to let fashion and non-essential house functions fall by the wayside. My wife and kids are like this, too, so the house can be a sty. But hey. You can be super neat, or you can be prolific. If you can do both, tell me how.

Unrestricted content

I actually want to do a whole separate piece on this one. Assuming I do, I’ll come back and hyperlink it here for the convenience of our future selves. But for today, it’s simply to say I will write about anything. Nothing is taboo to me. Now, that doesn’t mean I want to write about anything, and so I often will not follow ideas that do not interest me. I also couldn’t give less of a shit if what I’m writing is something someone is interested in reading. In fact, often times the more into something the general public is, the less interesting it is to me. (TikTok is a notable exception, which isn’t writing, I know. So is, say, Stephen King. I like Uncle Steve, just like the rest of ‘Murica. And maybe Shakespeare and Charles Dickens, though they don’t have as broad an audience outside of academia and other high falutin’ circles these days.)

Related:

No allegiance to style, form, or structure

Okay, so that one’s a tad misleading. I don’t really write in verse very often and can’t say I particularly ‘get’ poetry. But there are parts of SOMA that are pretty poetry-esque. (A fellow writer described them as being raps, but I can’t in good conscience take that on. Ask me if you wanna know more.) But I don’t know rhyme schemes or any of the foundational skills of poetry. I used to, back in high school, and I did write poetry then. It was very well-received, too, even more so that my creative prose. Perhaps that’s why I bailed on it? That, and I don’t really care for the ethos, like, the poet’s milieu. It’s too, I dunno, airy or something. Likewise, I don’t care for ‘students of serious writing’ and other classist academics and related fuckers. Sorry. But they’re too mean and serious for me—and often just not that good, especially in proportion to the amount of smack they’re serving up. But I don’t love popular fiction either—not just because of the popularity is a turn-off thing (though, yes, I’ve said that), rather the too crass ‘writing is just writing’ reductionistic, elbow grease kind of mentality that pervades it. Everything can be boiled down to something mechanical and replaceable. It’s like the opposite of being too precious or rarified. Too callous, I guess, too willing to ‘kill darlings’ and all of that. And most of them don’t think particularly deeply about much of anything and adopt more of an entertainment attitude toward art. So I do my best not to be any of these, not be be anything, in fact, other than myself in writing. Or selves. There are many Tees. I have a list somewhere, and that’s just for the fictional ones. [Ed. There is a story featuring many of them called “A Tale of a Thousand Teresas” that will eventually show up in Azza-Jono somewhere.]

I should note that I write everything in prose as simply as possible. I put the title at the top with by T. Van Santana following, and then we’re right into the work herself. You’re gonna have to tweak the format later anyway, so fuck it. It slows me down. I also use as simple a word processer as I can so that tech issues don’t get in my way. I can just open a document and go. And I do, creating sometimes fifty separate documents in a single day. I wish I had a better system for organizing it all, but then again, maybe not. I used to, back in the 386 days of computing, but I wasn’t nearly as prolific. Why? Who knows, but it could be I spent too much time on organizing and not enough on creating.

Now, allow me to seemingly contradict myself once more …

Be organized

Or as organized as you can be without fucking up your flow. Lists are what help me most. I have lists and lists of lists. These are mostly titles which remind me of the names of my various documents (like an index or table of contents) arranged thematically or by character or whatever I want. Documents often appear on multiple lists. Sometimes I Boomer-print the lists. It helps me to have them physically in front of me. I used to use a physical file folder system—and I still have 25+ years of them within eyeline—but I have abandoned that mostly out of adherence to all these other principles. I’ll get to it one day, assuming I do.

Stay away from social media … or post on it a lot.

Probably staying away from social media is the best idea a writer can implement in this time we call the Dumpster Fire Age, but if you must, then be sure to make lots of ‘tent. I’ve written entire novels this way, and started one of my largest projects to date because of incessant posting.

Read.

I get the impression that some writers don’t like reading. That’s fine. I’m not gonna shame anyone for liking or not liking something, even if it seems at a glance contradictory or hypocritical. But you will be more prolific if you do.

And read everything, not just the obscure subgenres you’re into. But along those lines …

Know your lineage

You are not the first human. Sorry. I know it seems like that sometimes, like the world didn’t exist until you did. But no, it turns out, this ball of molten steel and mud and water has been spinning ‘round the sun for billions of years. Likewise, writing has been around for about fifty-four hundred years, English for just shy of sixteen hundred years (Late Modern English, a little over two hundred years), and the contemporary publishing world for about five hundred years. You are, like it or not, know it or not, descended from these wise apes. That is to say, you are part of several lineages. Take a minute to try and grasp the enormity of that, now and then, and try to see how you are currently situated within those lines. You can think, too, about where you’d like to be, but I’ve found this is futile. Maybe it matters in the long run? But on the daily, you’re gonna get depressed. So steer clear, muh scribe. But, you know, if you’re a mystery writer, you should know who the fuck Agatha Christie is, love her or hate her. If you’re a sci-fi writer, know who Alfred Bester is, please. Better yet, build lists of the titans (often self-proclaimed or inducted posthumously), then learn about the overlooked writers. (They were often better, but not always.) Know who other writers were influenced by. If I ask how Gene Wolfe and Dungeons & Dragons are linked, you can, without batting an eye respond, “Jack Vance” and know how and why. It’s not that hard. You have Wikipedia, my friends. Use it. Learn where you come from and who your progenitors are.

Practice self-care

You won’t last long if you don’t. It doesn’t have to be elaborate. I keep a list of things I’m likely to do in a day that help me stay healthy or feel better mentally. Two things I would recommend for almost anyone are meditation and walking. It’s not healthy to sit for uninterrupted periods, so get up and move around, take a walk. Stephen King and Michael Chabon are both huge walking advocates. Meditation doesn’t have to be anything complicated. Just take three slow, deep breaths, close your eyes, and observe whatever happens next. Don’t try to change anything (that’s more advanced than you’re likely interested in). But if your mind wants to try to change something, notice that. Just notice whatever is going on in there for about five minutes, then get to writing.

So that’s the best I have on how I do what I do. If you have questions, please ask. If you want to praise or lambast me, I guess that’s cool, too, you know, within reason.

Xoxo,

T

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