In December of 2020, Jerry Seinfeld did an interview on the Tim Ferriss Show where, among other things, he talked about helping his daughter develop a writing habit. One recommendation he made to her was to set a time limit on her writing. “Just do an hour,” he told her, “Nobody writes all day. Shakespeare can’t write all day. It’s torture… You have to have an end-time to your writing session. If you’re going to sit down at a desk with a problem and do nothing else, you’ve got to get a reward for that. And the reward is, the alarm goes off, and you’re done. You get up and walk away and go have some cookies and milk. You’re done.”

As someone who is often plagued with all-or-nothing thinking, this really hit home for me. It’s important, when building a habit, to start small. Ask yourself what amount of time and effort each day is both sustainable and productive. It has to be both if you are going to stick with your practice, and that is really what building a habit is. It’s a practice. Your practice has to be sustainable because otherwise you will quit when it gets too difficult or inconvenient, but it also has to be productive because, if you don’t see noticeable results, or at least progress, you are also likely to quit. 

But the thing that really struck me about what Mr. Seinfeld said was that the reward for writing is to be finished with it. That, for him, the reward is not in the writing process itself. Rather, the reward is that it’s over, that he gets to stop, to get up, and to move on to something else. I can see the truth of this in my own writing practice. Like many writers have said before me, “I don’t like to write. I like having written.”

Writing, especially when it’s personal, is difficult. The best way for me to describe it is that it feels like I am grappling with some hidden, mysterious force inside me. I am simultaneously attempting to submit it while also submitting to it. Much like my jiu-jitsu practice, writing is not something I dreamt of doing or even necessarily desired to do before I started. It’s something I felt and feel compelled to do. It’s like chasing a ghost that is also chasing me. 

Also, like my jiu-jitsu practice, writing is often painful. It’s a struggle. It’s a fickle mistress. Some days, it leaves me feeling accomplished, inspired, and fulfilled, but other days, it leaves me feeling hurt, frustrated, and disappointed. In the long run, however, I am always glad to have done it. I’m glad to have shown up to practice, to have put in the effort, and to have faced myself in the process. And so, for better or worse, day in and day out, I will continue to grapple. 

Robert Van Valkenburgh
Grappling With Divinity

To read my poetry and shorter writing, please visit Meditations of a Gentle Warrior and subscribe to receive my daily meditations in your inbox.