Write For Your Future Self

When I was coaching a client last month, I brought up the notion of “the future self” as a way to provide a different sort of motivation for writing. Our future self is the one waiting for us next month or next year or 10 years from now. It’s who we will eventually be, in time.

We know that too much thinking about the past and future can wreak havoc with our experience of the present moment, since we often regret things from the past that we can’t change or we long for something in the future that we wish would hurry up and get here. But you can have a healthy relationship with the past and future, too. The path is through gratitude.

The notion of the future self involves first thinking of some point in the future, whether six months from now, one year, or five or ten years. Then think of something you’d like to finish–a writing project you’re in the midst of, or a state of mind you’d like to experience, or maybe even a different physical place you’d like to find yourself in. Imagine the moment in the future exactly as you’d like it to be, really picture it. But rather than forming an image the ideal moment you’d like to attain, as you might do in a visioning or manifesting exercise, instead embody the moment with gratitude for yourself; thank yourself for something you did in the past to get yourself to this point. Let your future self say, “Thank you past self for doing X to allow me to be here.”

If you’re familiar with reverse goal setting, in which you picture your chosen goal and work backwards from the finished goal through all the steps required to reach that goal, this is a little like that, except it’s a bit more right-brained than left-brained. And it serves to enhance the relationship you have with your creative self.

When reverse planning for goals, you picture the goal you want to achieve and work backwards through the steps that will get you from here to there. For example, if your goal is to complete your novel manuscript, picture that moment. It’s all done, printed out, and you’re holding the manuscript in your hands. What happens right before that moment? It probably goes through a proofread. Before that, a copy edit and a developmental edit. Before that, the rough draft needs to be complete. To finish the rough draft you need to follow a writing schedule to get those words written. You might create an outline or do some research before this. You might brainstorm novel ideas to decide what to write about. Working in reverse, you have a different perspective of all that’s required to reach your goal, and with this perspective you can break down a large project into manageable chunks and create a realistic schedule to get it done (the trouble always comes with sticking to the schedule, but that’s another story…).

When thinking about your future self, you approach this reverse planning process a little differently.

Let’s say you’ve given yourself six months to write the rough draft of your novel. Picture your future self six months from now holding a completed first draft in your hands. Step into that future self and thank your past self for writing 1,000 words a day for five days a week to get you there. Really imagine yourself swelling with gratitude for your past self. You know it wasn’t easy for her every day. You know she lost her faith in the project many times along the way, but she persevered, and because of that you’re holding a completed manuscript in your hands, and that feels amazing. You can now take your next step toward your dream.

You could even do something helpful for your very near future self. My client says she sets out her dental floss by the sink in the morning so that it’s there when she brushes her teeth in the evening. She’s made this small task slightly easier for her future self, and it’s a small gesture of self-kindness.

Such small gestures of self-kindness can lead us toward our chosen goals just as well, and probably better, than the self-flagellating ones. You can practice building this relationship with your future self by being that self right now.

Think of something you appreciate about your life today. Did you get an article published in a local magazine? Thank your past self writing that article and sending out a query. If you’re part of a great writing group, thank yourself for having the courage to go to the first meeting. Now extend this beyond your writing life. If you’re happily married and starting a family, thank yourself for saying “I do” once upon a time. If you love your job in a faraway city, thank yourself for taking the risk of moving away to give the opportunity a try.

The key is to really take some time nurturing this feeling of gratitude and self-appreciation. Our minds tend to hone in on all that’s “not right” with our situations and so we tend to diminish the impressive things we’ve done. We might think, “It’s not the perfect marriage, or job, or article, so why dwell on it?” But each of those choices was a creative act that led to new manifestations—something from nothing—and that deserves to be appreciated.

So take a moment to stay to yourself, “Past me, thank you for trying X, because it got me to Y.” And when you sit down to write today, dedicate the effort to your future self. One day she’ll thank you for it.

Does My Story Need an Outline?

Outlines—I used to think: “take ‘em or leave ‘em.” Maybe some people need them, but I’ve got a good handle on my story, so I’ll be fine. Maybe I’ll outline the next time. And then I hit the ‘muddles’, either in the middle of drafting or during revisions. It’s a state between bemusement and sheer panic and consists of various quandaries: What am I doing? Where am I going? What have I done? How did I get here? How will I get there? Does any of this matter? What is the point? Help!

Writing a novel can be hard work. Some days I just don’t want to do it. Some days I wish I were staring at a blank page because it would be better than this tangled mess in front of me that I can’t figure out how to fix.

At times like this I’m glad I have an outline. Even a loose one. An outline can’t save a writer from the work of ‘in the trenches’ craft, but it can be a bit of a lifeline when the ‘muddles’ set in.

Won’t an outline limit me?

Once I’ve jumped into drafting, the wildness of the creative process can take over. Rather than my plan to harvest rows of neatly planted seeds I usually find myself dealing with rampant weeds—the weeds of creative inspiration, mind you, but unnecessary overgrowth nonetheless. These on-the-fly ideas often lend the color, depth, and surprise that make the story rise above a formula, but it can also leave me with a messy jumble.

So I return to my hastily sketched outline.

Like a road map guiding me from one destination to another, an outline helps me stay the course when I’m tempted to veer off (or when I already have).

Is an outline set in stone?

No. Is it worth its weight in gold? Yes, if you are intent on completing a project. Is it necessary? Not at all, but it will get you where you’re going with less fear and trepidation (and possibly fewer weeds to pull).

As you waver on the path of process, an outline is there to remind you of your initial intentions and potential for success. It can keep you ‘on track’ when the vagaries of the creative process tempt you to veer off into the netherworlds of an overly enthusiastic or anxiety-provoked imagination. It is a holding pen for the ideas that will fit in your story as well as a barrier to keep out what doesn’t (because so many new things will vie for a place in your story once you’re really on a roll and you will have to ruthlessly interview each candidate before letting them through the gate).

An outline is a map of where you intend to go. If you hit a roadblock on the way and must find a detour, you’ll adapt. If you choose to take in a scenic byway instead of sticking to the interstate, you are free to make changes. With a map in hand, even if you blow a tire and are waylaid in a small tumbleweed town for a few days, you won’t need to fret, because you are still on your way.

Will I miss out on something by sticking to an outline?

No one can predict the traffic or the weather on a cross the country road trip. You can’t foresee that awesome deli in Chicago or the old drive-in you stumble across in Wyoming. An outline isn’t a guarantee against pitfalls nor is it a block to unexpected opportunities.

At heart, an outline captures your creative intention to complete a particular project and becomes a ‘map’ to keep yourself oriented to your intended path. It is the beginning of giving form to your initially formless idea.

How intently you stick to your outline is up to you. And the level of detail in your outline is also up to you.

How do I create an outline that works for me?

The simplest map you can give yourself might be to say, “I’m writing a novel.” But what if you were to add either “this year” or “this month” to that sentence? Already you’ve created a bit more structure for yourself. “I’m writing a novel this year.” These words set up anticipation and expectation. For fun, let’s throw in a stock character: “I’m writing an novel this year about…an elderly man.” We’re drawn in by even just a little more detail. “An elderly man who loses everything and has to rebuild his life and finds love along the way.” It’s till very vague but beginning to take shape. You can feel some momentum start to build. Questions arise: What does he lose and why? How does he rebuild? Who does he fall in love with? If you want, you can keep going, adding details, until you have a scene-by-scene breakdown. Or you can sketch out some key scenes and sequences that align with basic story structure concepts regarding beginning, middle, and end and go from there.

There are a million ways to approach an outline to your story, and you need to find one that feels natural to you, even a little exciting. Ideally, an outline will motivate you to sit down and write. It will give you the confidence that you can begin, navigate through the middle, and find your way to the end of your story.

You may have try a bunch of different approaches to find the one that works for you, but it’s well worth the effort if you are serious about writing—and finishing—a novel (perhaps more than one).

Can an outline help if I’ve already written a full or partial draft?

Absolutely. You can use it to ensure you have all the pieces your story needs, or it can help you get back on track if, halfway through, you’ve found yourself at a dead end. You’ll probably have to do some major renovations on your story. Outlining isn’t for the faint of heart because you’re forced to face what works and doesn’t work in your story and some of us like to hide behind the mystery and magic of the writing process, adhering to a blind faith that the story will ‘sort itself out’ (I used to be one of these writers). Sometimes we get lucky and the story does sort itself out, though we may not understand why or how and thus be powerless to repeat the process, except by relying on blind faith once more.

Outlines—you can take ‘em or leave ‘em. Personally, at this point in my writing life, I’ll take all the help I can get.