THE DOCTOR IS IN

Dear Dr. Sue,
My novelistic abilities are making me crazy. The very thing that enables me to be a writer is torturing me in real life. I find that I am projecting my imagination onto already stressful situations and making them almost untenable. For instance: a family member needs surgery. I not only play out scenarios  - complete with dialog - of what it will all be like, how it will go, the possible ways it could go wrong, how I will react, how he will react, and exhaust myself emotionally.  I spend untold hours trying to imagine what the family member is thinking, inventing a depression and then playing that out to its disastrous ends. I picture him going through untold tortures. I can see it all! I write the scenes. I know how to do that. I make my living doing it. I try to write the other scenarios - the positive ones - but keep going back to the scary ones. It's as if I am luxuriating in the terrible drama of our lives that I am scripting. And making myself anxious and exhausted.

How do I turn my writer's mind off?

A Writer, through and through

Dear Writer,

Your letter provides a vivid example of the pitfalls of the creative imagination. I think most writers have suffered the stress of living through fantasy scenarios that are much worse than the real-life situation. Some of us are able to find relief in scripting a more hopeful series of events; others--especially in such difficult circumstances as you describe--find that the effort to focus on the positive feels false and even frightening.

Many of us have had the experience of being blindsided by a tragic or frightening event. Sometimes we respond with an unconscious resolve never to be surprised by bad news again. Thus, when we confront a potentially dangerous situation, our impulse--often mysterious to us--is to project the worst, often in excruciating detail. Your sense of "luxuriating in the terrible drama" may actually be an expression of your psyche's desire to take care of you by preparing you for the most dire outcome imaginable.

As you have experienced, this "technique," however well intentioned, serves only to deepen your anxiety and to drain energy that would be better used caring for yourself and your relative. Since you have been unable to divert this creative energy to happier images, you may wish to try an exorcism.

Write down the horror story in your head. Include the most dire, terrifying details that come into your mind. Illustrate it if you wish. Don't worry about literary quality, but be sure to describe your nightmare as completely and accurately as you can.

When you're finished, take the manuscript to a fire-safe place. Crumple each page, saying aloud as you do so, "I release these ideas. They no longer have power over me." (You may feel silly, but do it anyway--voicing intentions is much more powerful than just thinking them.) Then burn the pages. If you have saved the story on your computer, delete the file. Resolve to be done with negative scenarios.

Then, try to stay in the present. This is not easy to do, especially for a novelist, but it is probably a more realistic goal than substituting a sugarplum fantasy for your worst nightmare. Focus on what you see, right now, in front of you. Are there small (or large) ways you can help? If you think you see signs of depression, ask the family member what might make him feel better. Stay with him, in the moment, realizing that this is all any of us can really be sure of, and use your writer's imagination to find ways to make the most of it.

Be sure to keep up with your own self-care routines as well. It's easy to let these slide as we become immersed in others' more pressing issues--but regular exercise, a healthy diet, and, especially, sufficient sleep can help stabilize your moods and enable you to be more fully present.

Susan O'Doherty, Ph.D., is a clinical psychologist with a New York City-based practice. A fiction writer herself, she specializes in issues affecting writers and other creative artists. Her book,  Getting Unstuck Without Coming Unglued: A Woman's Guide to Unblocking Creativity (Seal, 2007) is now available in bookstores. Send your questions to her at Dr.Sue at mindspring dot com.

Comments

[Amy]

Oh, I've always done that, ever since I was a child. Not necessarily the worst-case scenario, but whatever I'm doing, or conversation I'm having, my brain seems to go into 'what would be the most dramatic thing to happen now? What would I say now in this scene?', treating my life as if it were a book rather than reality.

When my mother died, I spent the hours we were waiting in the hospital coming up with the story of 'what was going to happen if'. If she died. If she lived, but had massive brain damage. If my Dad, who was perfectly healthy, died too. Who would take care of my sister? I would obviously have to drop out of school if she lived. Who was going to look after the house and look after Dad? And on and on and on.

I think it's probably a result of spending a lot of my childhood in books, and I'm better at recognising it now - I don't really do it any more, and I channel my creativity into actual writing. But I know exactly what you mean. It's difficult to stop seeing everything as another book you can predict the drama of.

[Susanne Dunlap]

It's so funny, but I spent my childhood escaping into fantasies of better things and good outcomes: A fairy princess with her own tree house meets the prince who doesn't mind that she wears glasses etc. etc. Perhaps it was to exorcise my actual nightmares, which plagued me all through my childhood and still do. I think it's exactly the opposite instinct, to cushion myself by separating from reality rather than exploring the absolute worst case. At times when I've found myself doing that, I suddenly discover that I'm sitting on the subway crying!

Perhaps that's why I write fiction that takes place so far removed from the here and now.

Thanks, Dr. Sue, for continuing to explore the ways our inner selves interact with ourselves as artists.

[Susan]

Wow. Thanks, Dr. Sue, and to the writer who submitted this question. I only discovered I wanted to be a writer a few years ago at the age of 36, but my brain has had this kind of overactive imagination my whole life! I have often been very bothered by it, but I'm getting better at staying in the present and NOT predicting -- and "protecting myself" from -- worst-case scenarios.

Thank you for putting words to this and offering your tips. I think writers are blessed with an abundance of creativity and empathy; the trick is to channel these gifts where they can make a positive difference!

[Sarah]

Over the years I have done both: played out worst-case scenarios, and escaped into other realms during times of stress in my imagination- usually into the world of a favorite book. Writing helps for several reasons: the fact that I can not only write-out the worst-case scenario but that I can change the outcome. The way writing helps me discern the difference between what I can't change (other people, or their circumstances) and what I can change (what happens in my writing. The way that writing brings me into the immediate *now* as I write, helping me disengage from my own worry. Thanks for this great post and great responses!