Boice Will Be Boice

Here we are again with the stopping and the pausing and the beginning early and the wonderful made up words like planfully. Boice tells me that I have no patience or tolerance for his wisdom, and mostly he’s right.

Except in this bit of the eleventh chapter, in which he writes about daily writing. I’ll admit—and only somewhat begrudgingly—that Boice’s prescribed approach to daily writing resembles my own habits. I’m currently hammering away at a seminar paper by writing two pages here, three pages there. It seems much easier than entering a metaphorical bunker with my notes, too little time and pipe dreams of congratulatory beers.

I don’t believe in the hyper-structured approach Boice advocates. I don’t know that I’ll ever actually chart my progress or recruit a writing buddy. But I do often stop when I’m gaining steam so that I’ll have a good place to pick up the next day. And I rarely rush myself.

For me, everything I do goes on a daily to-do list, except for my writing. Writing—whether fiction or scholarly work—generally stays off these lists. That’s because as soon as I put them on a list, as soon as a I follow Boice’s advice, writing begins to feel like work. It begins to feel like something that needs to be done with. I much prefer it my way, when writing naturally finds its way into my day as a pleasant escape from the screwed-up world in which we live.