I wrote some books, here’s how

Satisficing success

Hello darlings!

(I’m just skipping the how the hell are you. I know. Not good. I hope you at least get to eat a cookie today. That’s my prescription.) If you aren’t in the mood for some angst, I totally understand. Save this for another day.

This week, after a great amount of whining and moaning and gnashing my teeth, I finished going through the page proofs for my new book, The Hidden Face of Local Power. You can buy it! Discount code PO25S might get you 25% off the very reasonable price! For the haters and the losers keeping track, yes, that’s three books in an academic year. Okay, smug shilling over.

When this comes out in June, I will consider it a personal triumph. I did not think I would finish this book. I hate working by myself and I started the project because I had a job in a toxic department that told me that I would not be promoted without a second solo book and a dean that told me that without a second solo book, I wouldn’t have a “singular contribution.” FWIW, I think it is totally fucking reasonable to write something because you need it to get a job, keep a job, get promoted, whatever. It is a job. People do shit they hate for jobs all the fucking time.

So, I struggled from 2019 until literally yesterday to write this fucking book. But now I think it is actually okay? Like, good even? Maybe someone will read it and go “OH” because it explains some piece of local democracy that seems bananas.

So how did I finish a project like this? I already wrote here about pivoting to writing books and how I thought about being a “book person.”

Today’s missive is more – how did I force myself to do this?

I didn’t let myself quit.

In 2015-2017, I wrote 45000 words of another solo book before this one and then got tenure and realized I hated it and just… stopped. Walked away. Didn’t look at it again. I gave myself the gift of stopping working on that project. It was probably the wrong decision. (Maybe?)

Look, writing a book is hard. If it was easy, every fuck face out there would do it. But they don’t! That means that sometimes (a lot of the time), it is going to fucking suck.

But this time, even when I got into the middle of it and realized that I hated every single word of this cursed document, I kept going.

I had a variety of mantras that helped me:

• - Keep the main thing the main thing

• - Interesting, Important, True

• - Interesting, not perfect.

• - The only way through is through

• - Shut the fuck up and write

• - Don’t fuck this up

• - Writing is a privilege of the damned. Get damned.

• - Losers have written way worse books, Mirya

The whole thing about insanity being doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results does NOT apply to my writing.

I set goals, I failed to meet those goals, I set more goals, I failed to meet those goals, and set more goals. I kind of met those goals. I set more goals. I failed. I set more goals and I met those goals. I finished the fucking book. I did not let myself stop.

I embraced accountability. All kinds. As much as possible.

Old school MHAWS readers will know that I’m a big fan of Gretchen Rubin’s Four Tendencies (social scientists LOVE a 2x2). Rubin’s thesis is that we all respond in different ways to internal and external accountability – I’m an upholder, who responds to both internal and external accountability. So I embraced both forms as much as possible.

Internal: goals, rewards, some punishments. As I mentioned, I set a lot of goals. I almost universally failed to meet those goals. When I did meet those goals, it was because they were attached some kind of concrete reward (or, in one very specific circumstance, a punishment).

External: I offloaded so much of this onto other people. Y’all. Whew. My writing groups. People at writing retreats. My weekly goal buddy. My partner. My friends. Everyone helped hold me accountable. They also provided me with a lot of enthusiasm that I could NOT muster at various points in the process.

I started out really looking for someone to body double me in this process but guess what? I took too fucking long to finish this book and everyone I know writing a book at the beginning finished their fucking books years before I did.

Comparison is the thief of NOTHING (if it actually motivates you)

I kept a list of books that I think are absolute garbage and would regularly think about how my book was at least a little bit better than those piles of shit.

I also kept a stack of inspirational books around me and re-read them for tips on style, organization, for when I couldn’t possibly think of a fucking conclusion. These books include Jessica Trounstine’s Segregation by Design, Megan Ming Francis’ Civil Rights and the Making of the Modern American State, and Elizabeth McRae’s Mothers of Massive Resistance, among others.

I used these books — both bad and good — to motivate me. The bad ones were the floor, the good ones, the ceiling.

I got a LOT of help. (As I’ve already said)

I went on a writing retreat. And another one. I hired a lot of people to make drinks for me at bars around the world as I nursed my broken spirit when I couldn’t write another word. I hired an editor (Kelly Clancy). This book would not exist without Kelly, who both provided external accountability AND encouragement while letting me retain my voice in the book. Further in the process, I hired Joseph Stuart to do an index for me and he was so smart and made this process so easy for me.

I cannot emphasize enough that you should surround yourself with other smart people who are on the same mission as you are. If you need to pay people to make that happen, pay people. If you can find buddies, amazing. You aren’t alone.

I satisficed the hell out of this project.

Is this the best book ever written. Oh god no. Is it the best book I could ever write? Also no. Is it going to change the world? Of course not. But if any of those things were the standard, I was never ever ever going to finish it.

Instead of some unrealistic standard, I decided that I was going to get 92% of the way to the best book I could write right now. Why 92%? That’s an A, babbeeeey. Okay, I don’t know. That’s as far as I could imagine getting. So I put on my big gal pants and got it as close to some dumb line in the sand that I made up in my mind. Is all this dumb as a box of rocks? Yes. Did it help me mentally cope? Also yes. I was never going to let go of this text if I didn’t figure out some way to say “this is good enough.” So this is the game I played with myself. And it worked. You might read this and go “this bitch thinks she got to 92%????” but I don’t care because it is NOT MY PROBLEM anymore.

What questions do you have about forcing yourself to finish a project? About writing a book? About local appointed boards and commission? You should put it here in the MHAWS NGL link! (well, not the last one. Just buy the book and never ever ask me a question about it again).

XOXOX

Mirya