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F is for Faffing
My Invaluable Pre-Writing Routine
Before I start writing — something I am committed to doing every morning for at least one hour — I have noticed that on many days I engage in a period of what might be deemed procrastinating, but I prefer to think of as faffing — a lovely British slang word that perfectly describes what I am doing.
In my mind, procrastinating sounds vaguely sinister, like a bad thing, whereas faffing feels kinder and gentler, silly, even. I know the reason I’m faffing is because I am working up to doing a very hard thing — writing — and I have come to believe it’s a valuable part of the process. I find it important to be kind to myself as I am working up to doing said hard thing. Beating myself up for the sin of procrastinating does not help me get into the writing mood.
And, a word in defense of my faffing: I am getting satisfying things done, they’re just not writing things… This morning’s faffing period, for example, included wandering outside in my PJ’s taking pictures of the morning light to potentially post to my Instagram account; making quinoa, which I will use in tabbouleh for dinner tonight; unloading the dishwasher; and leafing through cookbooks to find a roast chicken recipe to use on Sunday night. Which is when I sternly told myself that the faffing needed to end. The faffing had crossed over into gratuitous…
