My Writing Pleasure Meter

On taking some time to assess whether you like what you’re doing

Rebecca Holden writes one of my favorite Substacks, Dear Reader, I’m Lost, and just the other day in her essay “The Best Bit(e)” she did something I really liked: she reflected on her own experience in a way that was really useful to me.

I’m hoping to return that favor, for you.

In her essay, she accounted for her preferences for the different stages of her work, writing (and also eating quiche). It got me thinking about the pleasures I derive from my own work (writing).

Now, I don’t think that you should care about my satisfaction. (In fact, don’t: that would be weird!) But I do think you should care about your own, especially when it comes to the stuff you do most regularly.

So I’m going to explain how I went about creating my own “Writing Pleasure Meter,” with the hope that you’ll try it yourself on your work or your hobby. If you do, please share your thoughts in the comments.

Using Rebecca’s basic model, I identified the “stages" in my work and then rated the level of satisfaction I take in each, on a scale of 0 to 5, where 0 is pissed off and 5 is blissed out. You’ll see my rankings charted and explained below.

The first thing I noticed was: Wow, I genuinely enjoy nearly every stage in the writing process. Even the one I ranked as a 3 (Editor Comment), is only low relative to the others: it’s the only stage where I experience any real frustration, but it’s useful frustration and it always has a positive outcome.

So, if this was a test to see if I enjoy how I’m spending my time, I’d say I’m coming out ahead. What more can I ask for?

1. Ideation: ✍️✍️✍️✍️ of 5

Ideation is the least defined or bounded of the stages in the writing process for me: it’s hard to know when it starts and it often occurs subconsciously (or while I shower or drive or talk or read ….) Ideas spark and sizzle and, hell, sometimes they fizzle. If I’m lucky, I manage to note them down in my ever-evolving Google Keep notebook, which syncs across all my devices. But I’ve never been able to bring myself to jot down all my ideas, preferring to trust that the good ones will recur.

I love this stage because at this point everything is possible, everything achievable. It’s an open field: pure dreaming, pure play. And yet it’s the evanescent quality of some ideas, the way they flash like fireflies in the night and then disappear, that keeps this stage from being perfectly satisfying. It makes me wonder if I could improve this stage …

2. Drafting, ✍️✍️✍️✍️✍️ of 5

I labeled this stage “Drafting” because it’s all about getting my thoughts down on “paper” without much worry about polish. (I put paper in quotes because I NEVER use paper. All my writing is electronic, done either at the laptop in my office or on my iPad, wherever I am, using Google Docs.)

I typically refer to this stage as “Barfing It Out,” giving myself permission to be imperfect, even messy. “Don’t worry about it,” I say to myself as I lay down half-formed thoughts, “just barf it out.” The freedom I give myself to just let loose is kind of thrilling—it’s really fun just to bang out the ideas, knowing I’ll clean it up later. I often write stuff I know I’m going to trash later, and that’s okay. Whatever I produce at this point is just fine.

3. Revision, ✍️✍️✍️✍️✍️ of 5

Ah, how I enjoy the first round of revision! I’ve typically let a draft sit for a day or two (or five) before I come back to it, which allows me to see it with fresh eyes. This delay gives me time to ruminate on what I’ve done right or wrong, but it also lets me approach the text as if it’s new. I just go through it, tweaking, tightening, rewriting, deleting, adding … whatever is needed to make it better.

The writer George Saunders provides an apt description of revision in a post on his Substack, Story Club. Here’s how he puts it:

The way I revise is: I read my own text and imagine a little meter in my head, with “P” on one side (“Positive”) and “N” on the other (“Negative”).  The game is to read the story the way I would read someone else’s – noting my honest, in-the-moment reactions – and then edit accordingly.

Whether this takes me one pass or many, the end result is that I make everything about my first draft better (I move the meter to P), and I always feel happier at the end of the revision process than when I started. But hell, it’s far from done!

4. Editor Comment, ✍️✍️✍️ of 5

I’m lucky to have an in-house editor: my wife, Sara Pendergast. Though she’s now a visual artist (see her website), she has a past life as an editor and she excels at identifying gaps in my thinking, inconsistencies, etc. She’s both skilled and insistent—as in, she insists that she read my stuff before I publish, and she invariably, infuriatingly, sees ways to make it better. She makes notes in my drafts, sure, but more importantly she argues with me when I protest that she’s wrong, and she almost always prods me to make some substantive change that I’d never make on my own. She does this all because she loves me and doesn’t want me to look foolish. (So, please note, my ranking of the editor herself is ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ of 5.)

This stage gets a 3 because it’s the one where I’m most aware of the flaws in my reasoning and my writing. I wouldn’t want to do without it, because it makes the end product better, but I’d be lying if I said it didn’t piss me off a little.

5. Second Revision, ✍️✍️✍️✍️ of 5

Second revision is a lot like first revision—it’s all about making it better—only with harder problems to solve, thanks to my lovely editor. Sara usually identifies at least one substantive issue I need to rethink, and that makes this round just a tad more arduous. It requires me to be honest about the validity of the editor’s critiques, and that often requires more rework than I might wish.

Calling this stage “Second Revision” makes it sound like there are only two rounds, though this is hardly the case. Sometimes I’ll go around and around before it ever gets to Sara; sometimes the around and around comes with her reviewing it many times over. It takes what it takes!

The very last revision takes place once I move the writing out of Google Docs and into Substack. I read it one last time and the slight differences in layout and font always help me see a few final changes to make. Then, I schedule the post to Publish, anywhere from a day to a couple weeks in the future, depending on my backlog.

6. Publish, ✍️✍️✍️✍️ of 5

Publishing a piece is a sweet moment in this whole process, one I always schedule for 5:00 AM on Sunday mornings. It’s when the latest chapter or essay goes out and I know that people are able to read it. Having people read or comment on something is really gratifying. I hope you don’t ever underestimate how great it is to know that someone else has read something I’ve worked on. It’s just way better than the “likes” on social media.

As a result of this Substack, I’ve come to have “relationships” with a number of readers and other writers that are really instructive and helpful and gratifying; that some of these people are long-term friends and family makes it even better. The “community” of Substack is real.

So why doesn’t publishing merit a 5? Probably because there’s a part of me that knows that this piece I just published still has flaws. And thus, I’m back to stage one all over again. I can always improve.

What’s your process look like? Are you happy with it? Does thinking about where it works for you and where it doesn’t make you think about any changes you could make? I’d love to hear about it.

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I’ll end this piece with a tip of the quiche (or, in my case, a breakfast egg bake) to Rebecca Holden. I too eat with a strategy in mind, hoping to save the best bite for last.

22. The best bit(e)