Embracing Procrastination - by Holly Race

"Procrastination is the thief of time. Collar him!" So said Charles Dickens.

Sorry Charles, but I’m going to disagree with you.

Procrastination is one of my core skills. The kind of skill you put at the top of your C.V.: Holly is a passionate and dedicated worker, with great attention to detail and a particular affinity for procrastination.

But we're told that procrastination is something to be ashamed of. We guiltily joke about it with our friends and use it as a stick to beat ourselves with. Personally, I used to spiral - I'd feel so bad about the amount of time I was spending procrastinating that I'd end up writing off the whole day. A proper throwing my toys out of the tub moment: 'If I haven't done anything useful by 1pm, I'm not going to, am I?'

But what if we could start to see procrastination as a Good Thing?

Over the last few months I've come to realise that there are types of procrastination that have allowed me the headspace to work up an appetite for writing when I was in a slump, or have given me the distance I needed from a plot problem in order to solve it. So I've rated my procrastination methods here, on a scale of 1 to 5, on how useful they were in helping my writing. That's right, I've done the procrastination deep dive so you don't have to (unless you want to, or unless you're already too far down to see the surface, in which case - keep going and you'll eventually come out the other side).

Browsing social media (1/5)

We all know this already, but scrolling endlessly through Twitter is not conducive to either low blood pressure or inspiration. If you want a good kick to get off social media, watch The Social Dilemma on Netflix. I guarantee you'll be horrified at exactly how these platforms manipulate our thought patterns. Some of us need to have social media accounts in order to promote our work and, at a time when we're all socialising online more, to keep in touch with friends. But this is definitely one to limit to times where you don't need to be working.

Cooking (2/5) 

Sourdough focaccia- yum!

Here's the thing. I love cooking. Love. It. My husband used to feel guilty about how much time I spent in the kitchen, until he realised that I cook as a way to escape real life. But I have reluctantly come to the conclusion that it is not good for sparking the writing bug. I become so engrossed in measuring, stirring or worrying about whether there's too much or too little cumin in a dish, that I end up replacing stress over whether my writing is any good with stress over whether my cooking is any good.

Getting outside (3/5)

If lockdown has shown us anything, it's the value of being able to get some fresh air. Whether you prefer to jog, cycle, walk or garden, getting outside is so important to mental health. I don't think I need to say much more about the health benefits of some daily outside exercise. For writing, I find it less useful. A long, lonely walk is the only type of exercise that tends to give me plotty brainwaves, but most of us can't spare several hours a day. I've taken to puffing away with Couch to 5k or taking a scenic detour on my bike on the way back from dropping off my daughter at nursery - they don't tend to give me the headspace to work out writing problems, but they do give a much needed energy boost.

I embroider more slowly than a sloth

Doing something creative, badly (4/5)

We spend so much of our time as authors trying to perfect our craft. We spend months, sometimes years, tweaking our writing until we don't think we can make it any better. And then we send our words out into the world to be loved and rejected, and the rejections always hit harder than the compliments. So it can be liberating to do something creative that isn't going to be judged. I've recently taken up embroidery and writing poetry (I heartily recommend How To Grow Your Own Poem by Kate Clanchy). Am I good at either of them? Absolutely not. But I try to do one of them every day, just to remind myself of the simple joy and sense of achievement of making something for myself. Lifting that pressure of trying to do something perfectly has meant that I'm more willing to get stuck in to my 'proper' writing - because I'm less afraid to fail.

Journalling (4/5)

Bullet journalling has become a real trend of late. When Buzzfeed starts making videos about something, you know you're in the zeitgeist. A friend tempted me over to the dark side a few months ago, and I now have drawerfuls of washi tape. I've leaned in hard. If you're a to do list kind of person, you might find that journalling helps your sense of organisation and control. It's been a game changer for me: I was getting daily headaches and couldn't work out why... until I started to track my water intake in my journal and realised I'd been drinking two glasses of water a day on average. My brain was, as a friend so kindly put it, a desiccated husk. Now that I'm ticking off my water intake as I go, thereby making sure I'm drinking enough, the headaches have cleared up, I'm not as tired and my head is clearer than it's been in years. Instead of browsing the Internet before bed, I write out my plan for the next day, decorate it in ridiculous numbers of stickers with cliche motivational quotes. And instead of feeling as though I've eaten the equivalent of an entire tub of mini-rolls, which is what I used to feel like after an adventure through Reddit, I feel as though I've drunk a cleansing green tea.

Yoga (5/5)

I've suffered from chronic back pain since the start of the year, as though it was an omen of the awful things to come. At the beginning of lockdown I decided to sign up to a friend's online yoga course (www.nomoreshoulds.com in case you're interested!) - I'm not the biggest fan of having to travel to such classes but love the community feeling of taking classes with other people instead of via a pre-recorded, impersonal YouTube video. I've slowly built up to taking at least a short class every day, and the difference to my back pain has been remarkable. For a lot of writers, pain associated with a sedentary lifestyle is a real problem. I can't recommend stepping away once or twice a day to do some gentle twists and stretches enough. Beyond the physical benefits, the meditative quality of my yoga classes (these are gentle classes; I'm not trying to become a contortionist) has seen me come up with the solution to many a writing problem in the middle of a downward dog.

So this is my resolution for the dregs of 2020: to embrace procrastination. Guilt and shame are such useless emotions and anathema to creativity. As of now, I'm banishing them and spending more time practising my stem stitch and mountain pose. Perhaps you'll join me?

Holly Race worked for many years as a script editor in film and television, before becoming a writer.

Her debut novel, Midnight's Twins, is published by Hot Key Books. She also selectively undertakes freelance script editing and story consultant work.

www.hollyrace.com

A recipe for a YA fantasy sequel - Holly Race

The deadline for the first draft of my second novel is looming, so I'm keeping my post short this month! Here you have it - my very own recipe for writing said sequel:

- Take one (1) Chosen One trope, established in the first novel. Subvert.

- Extract the world building from the first book, add a little more context and lore, knead and allow to rise for a month or two until bubbly.

- Blend plot and character arcs together until thoroughly combined. Add the world building and bring all together in a nice messy gloop.

- Marinade a handful of secondary characters until they are established and likeable. This will be made harder by the fact that you killed off a load of them in your first book and now need to create new ones. Stir into the mixture in the knowledge that only a few will survive to the third book.

- Crack three fight scenes and a battle into the mixture one by one, making sure each of them is more ambitious than those in the first book, despite the fact that when you wrote the first book, you went all in.

- Decide that you don't have enough storylines and decide to include a mystery plot, ostensibly for complexity of flavour but also because you just love a good mystery.

- Add one (or two) romances into the mix, for sweetness, and fold in lightly.

- Bake for a year, turning the temperature up to 'anxiety and panic' for the final week.

- Decorate with a pretty cover and atmospheric blurb, and present next to your first book for comparison and judgement.

Publication Day in Lockdown - by Holly Race

I had been warned. So many people had told me: 'Don't be surprised if at some point on your publication day, you stop and think I'm really unhappy.'

I had been warned, and I was prepared. I spent a large portion of the week in the run up to the publication of my debut novel, utterly miserable. Get into the right frame of mind early, I told myself, then you won't be disappointed on the day. A friend invited me out on a socially distanced walk, where I moaned to her the whole time. When the Whatsapp group I'd set up months previously excitedly asked what our plans were for a Zoom launch party, I half-heartedly passed on the organisation to my husband. I fretted that my best friend had suddenly become less available to chat, now, in my time of need.

In short, I was awful.

The day arrived. I attempted normality: toddler up, milk given, ready for nursery. I was watering the garden when the doorbell rang.

'Something for Holly!' the DPD driver chirped, indicating a flat parcel on the porch. Inside: a silver box, beautifully illustrated. Inside that, an array of chocolates, each one delicately iced with flowers and letters: 'MIDNIGHT'S TWINS BY HOLLY RACE'. The card told me it was from a scriptwriter who I've never met in person. We have been working together remotely since the start of the year, and I was starting to think of her as a friend, but this - this was beyond normal six-month friendship. But she knew how much the book meant to me, and being a writer herself knew how much of one's soul you can pour into your work. I message her effusions. Her response: 'I'm just glad they didn't forget the apostrophe.'

Then my husband approaches. 'You know that parcel from Germany that arrived the other day?'

'The one I teased you about being even more camera equipment you didn't need?' I say.

'Yeah.' He hands the box to me. Inside is a heavy, enamelled pen. Engraved on the lid: today's date. 'For all the book signings you're going to do.'

I'm already welling up a bit, so I cover and show husband my thanks in the form of several badly decorated cupcakes. I'm interrupted in my baking by a socially distanced visit from my parents, who have gently supported my writing hobby since I, aged five, wrote 'The Mirror Girl', about a girl called Holly whose reflection stepped out of the mirror and caused havoc in her name. They bring that story with them now, and hand me an envelope containing a sketch of a horse - horses are an important feature of my book - by a prominent artist.

So many instances of kindness and generosity. I realise, once my parents have left, that I have only felt warm joy today, my anticipated disappointment balmed by my loved ones' excitement.

I spend my afternoon cycling to my nearest friends to give them the aforementioned questionably decorated cupcakes. When I get home we order takeaway and, in anticipation of tonight's Zoom party, I brush my hair for the first time in three days. I like to make an effort.

When the time comes to open Zoom, I am expecting to see a small but lovely gathering of familiar faces. As it happens, not everyone will fit onto our screen. Fifty friends and family members have turned up. It's more people than I've seen in one place since my sixth form leaver's do, let alone since lockdown.

That's when things start to get weird. My tech-savvy husband begins tinkering with the laptop - in itself this is not unusual, but when combined with the expectant silence of my friends, my spidey senses are tingling. Husband presses 'play' and suddenly my best friend's unavailability over the last couple of weeks is explained. He had been making this:

When the video ends, I'm directed towards the doormat. Lying there is a copy of my book, filled with messages from friends and family across the country. Alongside it: a package containing a necklace that appears in Midnight's Twins and an enormous chocolate cake, complete with a fondant copy of my book, decorated in painstaking detail.

Over the course of the next few hours, as I get gradually merrier on elderflower champagne, the logistics of how they did this are explained to me. That walk I took with my friend? Engineered so that my best friend and husband could finish the video. Socially distanced meet ups in a Cambridge park, with friends driving in from the Fens to leave a message in the book. A drive around London, carrying not only the book but hand sanitiser and masks to ensure Coronavirus safety. And so many postcards and messages sent in from further afield to be slotted into the pages. I don't let myself read all the messages in front of my friends, because I know I'll end up a blubbering mess.

Later that night, when everyone else has gone to bed, I open it up and read the messages in private. Half my friends barely read at all, most of them are not particularly interested in young adult stories. This is true friendship, of the kind I never thought I'd have and certainly don't deserve - not if my behaviour over the last week is anything to go by, at least.

Over the next few days, friends visit my garden to help me eat the chocolate cake. The chocolates sent by the writer friend dwindle; iced flowers first, then the ones bearing letters. I put the necklace away, to be worn when I see people or take book-related photos. But nothing will ever replace the gooey knowledge of how my friends and family turned what was set to be an anti-climactic lockdown publication into one of the best days of my life.

Dystopia in a dystopian world by Holly Race

On a recent Zoom meeting with someone who works in television drama, I found myself discussing the mood of the nation, and realised that the book I am writing doesn't fit in at all.

There was a definite sense that the dark, gritty crime shows and thrillers that have been keeping us hooked for years were not necessarily what people wanted to see right now; that people would be looking for more uplifting stories. And who can blame them? In a time when so many are frightened and lonely, sometimes ill or angry, we just want to cuddle up with the hot water bottles of literature and TV and film. I can relate - I signed up to Disney+ with the intention of watching The Mandelorian and have instead imbibed the endlessly optimistic Diary of a Future President. I've resorted to comfort reading the stories of my childhood - Carbonel, Charlotte's Web and The Snow Spider.

'But where does that leave me and my semi-dystopian novel featuring an angry heroine?!' I wailed to the TV person.

And then I thought about that fact that some of the most powerful moments in my favourite books are those glimmers of light in the darkest moments. The salute of District 12 in response to Katniss volunteering as tribute; Isabelle's silent, relieved acceptance - her hand placed over another's - in Jennifer Donnelly's Stepsister; the warming hug of a little girl in Philip Pullman's exquisite Clockwork.

As Anne wrote below in 'Hope in a Scary World', there are moments of light in this crisis - and humans have the incredible ability to generate such moments. It's a yin and yang. We create buoys for ourselves proportionate to the strength of the current trying to drag us under. Feeling powerless and lonely? Go into the street and clap. Worried about running out of food? Start growing fruits and herbs on the windowsill.

Closer to home, one friend sent me a handwritten letter, and in return I sent him a DVD of a film we'd meant to watch together at my home. Instead we watched it apart but at the same time, connected by Whatsapp and Frances O'Connor's brilliant interpretation of the much-maligned Fanny in Mansfield Park. Neighbouring friends have set up a socially distanced cake run, to spread a little sugary love (while our stocks of flour last).

Humans are brilliant, aren't they?

So I went to work. My first book is being published in June, and I'm deep in the middle of drafting the second in the trilogy now. It's a darker book anyway - I don't think it will be a huge spoiler to say that the villain's forces are growing stronger. It's all too easy for me, in my own moments of anxiety and depression, to lean in to my heroine's anger and fear.

But with all of those fresh memories of our ability to find light in the darkest of times, I have been trying to allow my characters to do the same. Those flashes of light may only be momentary, but they're enough to illuminate the path forward - whether that's a shared moment of connection with a love interest or friend, saving a frenemy from certain death in a battle, or the simple act of sharing their last cup of self-raising.

Holly Race worked for many years as a script editor in film and television, before becoming a writer.

Her debut novel, Midnight's Twins, is published by Hot Key Books on 11th June 2020. She also selectively undertakes freelance script editing and story consultant work.

www.hollyrace.com

www.patreon.com/hollyracewriting