Ride out the Lane, or Merge?

On my daily drive to work, I encounter sections of highway where I’m encouraged to merge into the left lane since the right lane is ending. I’ve started paying attention not only to my choice, but also to other drivers’ choices. What I’ve noticed is that I’m inconsistent. Some days I’ll merge over; other days I simply ride the lane out if no one is behind me.

Ironically, I’m often irritated by drivers who are in front of me and choose to ride the lane out and not merge, especially if the merging is on an incline or blind curve – common in the mountain towns I inhabit.

Riding out the lane or merging “when told” is like my writing practice. I admit I’m one of those writers who does NOT have a daily practice of writing creatively. I must clarify that I do write daily, but these written pieces are work related, and range from emails, social media posts, newsletter articles, grants, meeting minutes, planning documents, and something else I’m surely leaving out. It is this very act of writing in my work life that often drains my creative life. If you are/were a professor or teacher or also spend significant time in your day job writing, you know the impact. To keep the creative mojo, you must make creative writing a priority or it will fade out, just like that ending lane.

Because I don’t like to follow rules or a rigid routine, I do not have a set daily writing time as a creative writer. Instead, I’ve grown to be in-tune with my process and how my mind and creativity interact. When the ideas, images, or lines are flowing, I scribble them in my journal (I carry multiple ones), and I sit down and write those drafts in my free time. When these drafts are strong enough to be keyed into the computer, I begin that part of the process.

I’ve learned that if I type my creative work directly into a document, I am doing a disservice to my work. I’ve seen it happen to my writing too many times. Because I’m Gen X, part of me is wired to handwrite (and I’d argue we all should do this, especially when learning something new). I loved the hours in the Rich Building of Young Harris College where my English professors had us write on yellow legal pads in class. I wrote my essays at the University of Georgia, where I spent many wonderful hours in Park Hall, by hand prior to typing them into my Brother word processor, and eventually MS Work or WordPerfect (who remembers that program??). Even so, some professors (such as the amazing Dr. John Vance, Shakespeare) required Blue Books, which I would be using now due to AI if I were still in the classroom.

Since I’m well into midlife, I’ve been drafting essays into a blank journal, looking back at an itinerant life as a child of a minister. As I go to key these in, I notice those edits that happen in the liminal space between the written page and the computer screen. These edits happen in the moment and could only be captured if I compared the two. Maybe this narrow space of editing between the written words to the typed words is the lane that is beginning to end, prompting me to decide on edits when it’s most relevant.

There are multiple approaches to creative writing. I know one prose writer who goes straight to the screen, editing each sentence as he goes. Another practices yoga first, then moves to her writing desk. And one friend admitted that the first thing she does when she attends a writing retreat is to go to sleep. Somehow the process of rest allows her to get up and become creative.

So, whether you ride out the lane, merge, or conjure some mix of the two, the key is to understand your process and honor it. Don’t judge it. Don’t compare. Too often I was embarrassed to admit that I did not force myself to write creatively on a daily basis. But that simply does not work for me and would kill the joy that creative writing brings me. Instead, I plug away on my own schedule, honoring how I’m led.