This attribute, like the other three, comes and goes. Today, it’s mostly gone, but I can still write about it in a metaphorical sense: that of a camera lens.
Much has recently changed in the world of cameras, but it’s still possible to manually rotate the focus ring. A “how-to” website on photography techniques lists the situations in which this choice is advantageous.
So I visualize the slow, smooth turning of that ring—passing through the razor’s edge of clarity, patiently waiting for the scattered energy of thoughts to align themselves on that magic point. My human fingers will never achieve the perfect mechanics of that satiny black device.
If I stay with that visualization, I can sometimes keep my jumping monkey mind still for as long as it takes to get a few ideas corralled and pinned to a page.
Of course, there is always a danger with focusing too much. My version of this problem comes when I find myself editing as I write. The ultimate sharpness of a piece of writing depends upon finding the best word for the job. In that pursuit, I can get hyper-focused on an individual sentence and keep polishing it until it’s right…and then I find something else to tweak.
Looking at that dilemma through the camera metaphor, writing and editing require two very different lenses. It’s not possible to do both at once. To take it down to something even more basic, the two activities are like two opposite forces of energy. Writing is creative, editing is destructive. (I use that last word with apologies to all the wonderful editors I know!)
Each force can be applied to benefit its use in appropriate situations. All that’s needed is to keep them in two separate rooms in one’s head. Am I writing today? Then I go to the writer’s room and keep the editor behind a closed door. Am I editing today? The writer stays put and keeps quiet.
Therefore…focus. This attribute is like a first cousin to discipline. If I’m to be effective and consistent, I need to recognize the cognitive landscape du jour…just like that photography instruction manual. Where is my energy today? All over the place. That requires a little bit of channeling, harnessing, smoothing down. Maybe I’d prefer to be in the writer’s room today, but if I leave the door of the editor’s room open just a few inches, that could de-scatter things a bit. The trick is not to try to do too many things at once. I pick an object and focus, but keep my hand on the lens. I let the idea of that soft ring turning bring the mind’s eye out, forward and upward. With a light touch, the words can dance.
For me, focus works wonders if it’s not too rigid. In my writing, like my practice of t’ai chi, I strive for each word and movement to be precise and clear, yet fluid. I consider, but try not to attach to, the possibility of suppleness with precision. Patience, and easing up on expectations of self, help me to keep going. Some days, like today, that’s enough.
