Thanks so much for joining me today!
Today I’ll be talking about one of the biggest challenges that first-time scholarly book authors face, which is maintaining the motivation to write, day in and day out.
When the semester is going full force, writing is often the first thing to drop off your to-do list.
And then when summers and holidays finally arrive, you just want to rest and recharge and not think about work at all, which is completely justified and utterly necessary for a healthy life!
In this episode, I’m going to talk about one relatively simple, but very effective, way to maintain internal motivation to keep working on your book manuscript no matter what else is going on in your life.
And although it’s a pretty straightforward concept, it’s not one that gets talked about enough.
So if you’ve been struggling to maintain momentum, I suggest that you close your laptop for a moment and put aside your planners, your time-tracking tools, your Excel spreadsheets, and all the different strategies you’ve been using to try to get your writing done.
Instead, I invite you to do something you might never have consciously thought to do before, and that is to direct your attention inward to locate the deeper, more personally meaningful reasons why you are writing a book.
As a writing coach for women scholars, many of my clients’ main goal is to publish a sole-authored book with a reputable academic press.
But when I ask them why they want to publish a book, they often say things like “I need it to get tenure” or “I need it to prove myself as an expert in my discipline” or just more generally, “I have to write my book or else!”
Now, don’t get me wrong, these are perfectly logical motivations. Book publication is often a key to moving forward in your career. It can propel you closer to the things you’ve worked so hard for and invested so many years to attain like getting a job, getting awards, getting known, and getting tenure, to name a few.
But what do you notice about these reasons?
Well, the fact is that they’re all externally based and they’re also rooted in fear — usually fear of failing.
When authors frame their book writing in this way, this tends to suck out the inspiration.
And in order to keep writing consistently in a way that feels good to you despite the many challenges you face every day, you need to be inspired by your work!
Particularly for first-time authors, having such pressure-filled goals can provoke endless anxiety. Fear can stop you cold in your tracks as you think things like, “I’ve never done this before. I have no idea what I’m doing!” “I’m a total imposter!” or “Who am I to be writing a book?!”
SO HERE’S A THOUGHT EXERCISE:
When you sit down to work and what’s running through your mind is something like, “I have to write my book,” how does that make you feel? What actions do you take in response?
On a scale of 1-10, how motivated are you to continue working on your manuscript that day, and the next, and the next?
Rather than speeding us up, thoughts like these exert an insane amount of pressure that can make writing feel like a heavy burden and slow you way down. If you’re not careful, writing can become an obligation instead of a fulfilling way to get your unique ideas and voice out into the world.
I know, because that’s exactly how I felt during the five plus years I spent writing my first book, which was based on another three plus years that I spent writing my dissertation!
Looking back, trying to motivate myself to publish a book for external, career-related reasons wasn’t very rewarding to me and actually made it even more difficult to maintain momentum.
I wasted huge amounts of time sitting at my computer worrying endlessly. Plus, I complained to anyone who would listen about my lack of progress on my manuscript, which drained me of inspiration even when I wasn’t actively working on it.
What a waste of energy!
My point here is that the language we use to think about our goals is integral to staying motivated.
The reason I was able to write my second book relatively quickly while enjoying the process a lot more was that my goal shifted from “I have to write a book to prove myself” to “I want to write a book that teaches the world about something that means a lot to me.”
Hear the difference? My purpose shifted from something external to something internal, which greatly increased my engagement with my writing.
I recently gave this example to a client I’ll call “Sarah,” an assistant professor who had been struggling for a few years to make progress on her book manuscript.
Like most scholars, she was caught up in “compare and despair.”
Throughout the day, she would constantly judge herself in relation to her uber-productive colleagues—most of whom were senior to her and weren’t raising young children like she was.
Compared to them, Sarah felt like she was accomplishing very little.
This thought pattern caused a downward spiral, provoking deep anxiety and triggering insecurities that led her to avoid working on her book altogether.
For her, each day felt like wading through landmines, because even things like emails from her department congratulating colleagues on their latest achievements made her feel ashamed of herself.
The most ironic thing was that Sarah was actually extremely productive.
In our time working together, she authored and co-authored several peer-reviewed articles, designed new innovative classes for undergraduate and graduate students, and headed up an international grant-funded project pioneering new research methods, all while parenting an elementary-school age child through the pandemic.
During one of our sessions, Sarah was feeling particularly down and judgmental of herself for not being further along with her book. So I asked her to state all of the reasons she quote-unquote “needed” to publish a book at all.
She quickly rattled off a list of familiar-sounding things like, “I need it to ensure my tenure case,” “I need it so that my colleagues will think highly of me,” and “I need it so that my discipline will take me seriously.”
As she was speaking, her breathing got shallower and her body became visibly more tense, to the point where her shoulders started to hunch up towards her ears. It was clear that none of these external motivations felt good to her, and in fact they were keeping her small and defensive.
Can you imagine trying to write and express your full creativity from a place of self-preservation? No wonder she shut down every time she tried to work on her manuscript!
Instead, I asked Sarah what she found most inspiring about her project.
She thought for a moment, took a deep breath, and then answered: “I want to write a book that helps junior scholars understand the beauty of mixed methods. And I want this book to help them feel empowered to use them in their own research even if they’re not experts.”
As she said this, her shoulders automatically relaxed and her eyes became softer and more wistful. Connecting to her own internal passion for this topic immediately shifted Sarah’s energy from that of worry and fear to curiosity and wonder.
Being in this more open mindset allowed her to get restarted on her project with enthusiasm and confidence in her own unique contribution rather than with the sense of dread that can emerge from self-judgment and social comparison.
Ultimately, maintaining motivation with your writing comes from being aligned with your own priorities and values.
The main takeaway point is that writing flows more easily when you continually remind yourself of the reasons why this work matters to you.
So, I invite you to take a moment and reflect.
What is it about the topics, the people, or the processes you study that you find most compelling? What got you into this research in the first place? And how do you want the world to be different or better as a result of your ideas?
Jot your answers down on a post-it note and stick it on your computer. That way, every time you sit down to work, you can be inspired by your own words and connect to your deeper purpose as a writer.