"Kicking Writing Funk in the Face" or, "I Do What I Want! \o/"
There were some tumblr postings recently on being in a writing funk, and after some encouragement, I wrote up some of my experiences in trying to move myself out of it - or, in mochisquish's memorable words, how to "kick it in the face".
UPDATE: November 9 - added a section on "Keep it short - and make sure it stays short"
So, following up on those bullet points I promised on how I kicked my writing funk, I'm going to first preface this by emphasizing that this is all my personal experience, and I'm in no way saying this is immediately generalizable to all people. Also, even though I've employed all these points for myself at varying times, I often have to pick and choose amongst my own strategies depending on the situation. I've tried to be as thorough and honest as I could be here, but this is probably something that could use a whole psychological treatise (which I think I'm just about 50 words shy of - sigh).
Okay, with disclaimers out of the way, moving on to the main message - which is that my writing funk more often than not arises from my making my hobby into work. The only other large factor might be lack of inspiration, but really, that is also often a direct result of my making my hobby into work.
These realizations aren't really a huge surprise to most people, so now the million-dollar question becomes - what do you do about it?
Ditch the commitments and obligations (the writing ones, not the real life ones)
This seemed like such a terrible and terrifying thing at first. I mean, who doesn't want to keep their word, whether it's made to someone else or yourself? Unfortunately, I came to the realization that the pressure I felt from "must do!" was actually keeping me from doing it ... and so, I had to first make peace with the fact that this is not something that is a must do. It is merely something that I would like to do.
I've flunked exams, mishandled great opportunities, embarrassed myself in front of important people. But, if I kept looking for additional options instead of just hiding away from the perceived failure, I inevitably found that there were ways to not only "make up" for the initial stumbles but come out ahead in the end. So I tried to apply the same philosophy to writing ... if trying to make myself do something is not working, I give it a break. Give up on it, cross it off my to-do list, let myself breathe, go do something else for a time - and who knows, maybe in a fit of inspiration later on, I'll actually end up spitting what I had wanted out so fast I'll wonder what held me up for so long in the first place. Or maybe I'll even come up with something better.
Besides which, I must hold faith that, for the most part, everyone who would like to see me produce stuff would not want to be the cause of this much distress. To give them credit, I'm sure many will say that they'd rather I keep writing, even if it's on other stuff, than to stop writing altogether simply because I promised them something.
Conclusion: I tell myself to let it go, and I'm not a failure for doing so. Even in the professional world, companies break contracts all the time as they re-evaluate their positions, and usually it's because people think it will lead to a more productive end. It's time to move on.
Don't make more than two promises to myself at a time
Note that I said "myself" and not "other people". I concluded that, for the most part, all the pressure that I feel about writing is internally generated, and so it does no good to keep from making promises to others, but then wig out about my own internal to-do list of things I promised myself. (Of course, by extension, resist making promises to others too, implied or otherwise - better yet, say nothing, then surprise them later on if you managed to squeeze something out! Surprise gifts are sometimes even more awesome!)
As a visualization, I mentally assign myself two "bins" for larger works - these are the things that I'm going to tackle for sure. If I am tempted to take on a third thing? Then I have to decide - should I chuck something from one of the bins? If not, then I don't take on that third thing - I make my peace with it right then and there that I may never think of it ever again. If it's something I definitely want? I put it in a bin, and throw away whatever used to be there.
Maybe, if it's a really fun idea, I'll write it down on some "wish-list" as a reference, so that if I find one of my bins empty, I can pick and choose from it. But for the most part, considering the communities I interact with now, I highly doubt I'll ever find myself holding an empty bin. And if I can't remember some neat idea from 2 weeks ago without referencing a list? Well, maybe I wasn't so ensnared by the idea in the first place. Yeah, it's a lost opportunity, but the world's full of opportunities, and I can't chase down every single one without going nuts.
Why two bins instead of one? Because I don't want to write myself into a rut either. Inspiration is the initial spark, the fuel, and the whip that helps me get things done. If I get too burned out on one thing, I want to have something that I can switch to without feeling too guilty to help restart that drive and spark. It's like bringing a horse and a spare - trade off between them to keep you going, but bringing three would be too much to handle.
(That's not to say that I haven't done plenty of straying though, as my one-shots will attest to! But the key here is that they're one-shots - and they stay that way until I finish one of the bins. No long-term planning is attached to them whatsoever. If I end up writing a sequel, it will be purely coincidental and not through premeditation.)
Keep it short - and make sure it stays short
This is something of a corollary to the two bins idea. I don't know how many times I've started what I initially intended as a drabble ... that soon became a one shot ... that soon became some sort of epic 30-part dynastic universe @#$O&! - anyway, you get the picture.
On the one hand, it seems really, really hard to turn off the imagination after a set point so that it doesn't just barf all over the page and turn it into a novel - I mean, I've just got these great ideas that are all screaming for the light of day, after all. On the other hand, it also seems like a huge shame to turn it off at all - I just went through all this trouble to get it working in the first place!
But here is where I have to be very, very careful. Obviously, I can't write epics for every plot bunny bite I get. On a more theoretical level, it also violates my personal two-bins rule. There's really no graceful way of doing this, but every time I am tempted to label something a "part two"? I cut it off, right then and there, at the knees if necessary.
Maybe it will leave readers dangling, give them a "to be continued ... duhn duhn duhn!" feeling without actually promising a continuation, but I have to be ruthless about this. If I want to give it a graceful conclusion? Then I will either do it right then and there in the same sitting, or at the latest, maybe a day or two immediately after, but that's it - I won't let it drag out, not unless it's one of the longer works I've reserved for one of my bins.
Personally, I'm fine with posting incomplete works or at least showing it to a bunch of close friends, though I know other people who will never let another pair of eyes fall on something that they haven't put the last dot on the end. But if I really don't want to post something that is so blatantly un-concluded, and/or I don't want to waste all the effort I went through to write it out just to lock it away in some archive folder? Usually I throw it into my scrap heap for recycling into other works - something which actually happens a fair bit. It's rather like the Sea of Simulation in that respect ... it's a mish-mash of possibilities which might eventually find life by being recombined with other things.
From the reader perspective, I think, this strategy is also appreciated - you can set their expectations right at the gate as to whether there will be more or not. Then, if they know something is incomplete and most likely won't be completed in the near future, they can choose whether to take the plunge or not.
(Notice I didn't say anything about either writing an outline or staying away from outlines - I've discovered that the length of an outline usually has nothing to do with the length of the eventual fic. I've literally had 2 paragraph outlines become 6,000 words once I wrote it out, and writing organically without an outline is no better. And by the way, there is nothing wrong with sequels! If you headspace is really churning away at that universe, invest in a sequel, not a chapter two - at least then, you will not have a feeling of responsibility hovering over you the entire time, which is one of the biggest writer-motivation killers I know of.)
Write my favorite parts first
I'm sure a lot of people do this for the most part, but I've sometimes become hung up on the whole need-for-linearity deal; it becomes such a slog to get to the parts that I want to write that I never actually get to them! Of course, after I've done all the good parts, I still have to do all the stuff in between, but now I also have the extra momentum of having all this material I've already written so far as both a sense of accomplishment and a goad to keep me going. So, more often than not, I'm jumping around and stitching things together, and it doesn't matter if I have to re-write parts I'd already written because I discovered that the in-between section won't fit quite right otherwise. Besides, editing is always so much easier than just getting stuff down in the first place.
Besides, I've also discovered that my creativity and ability to condense things work best with this strategy. If I first figure out all the islands I want to hit, sometimes I can shorten the trip between them because I discover I don't need to explain as much as I thought I had to, or I find that there's an interesting detour I can make as set-up for the next big adventure, making that in-between stage much more interesting than I had originally planned.
Try something COMPLETELY new - or something not so new - JUST KEEP TRYING
This kind of ties into the first point. Often, I feel discouraged to try anything because omg, I have all these stories I promised to folk, or I have such a loyalty built up in this particular fandom even if I've sort of milked it for all the enthusiasm I could, or - yeah, I never really have to go far to find reasons not to do anything.
But, sometimes one just needs to start with a clean slate again, clear that buffer, wipe off those spark plugs - insert metaphor here - in order to get a good start again. Try a completely new fandom, a sci-fi instead of a fantasy, a new pairing, a new character, an alternate universe, or maybe something completely original.
Or maybe don't try fiction at all - just write a bunch of reviews, blog posts, or maybe even tweets. (I'm serious about the tweets - before I got my writing feet back under me, I started with blogs to try and get myself writing again, but when even that seemed too onerous, I tweeted up a storm before I got over my fright over words and started inching out beyond the 150 character limit. Then I discovered a fandom and a community that I could really sink my teeth into, and it was hasta la vista from there.)
This is just about jump-starting some enthusiasm again, about completing a thought from beginning to end rather than just taking care of your side of a conversation, about not breaking into a sweat at the thought of throwing words onto a blank page. Up till this point, I had been in text-based RPs and chats for years, and I almost literally had anxiety attacks at the thought of having to write something solo - I was so used to the writing-partner/conversationalist dynamic that I felt like I almost couldn't complete a single page without someone else to come up with the other half of the material. Thus, it was time to wean myself off of that dependency, and learn to recreate my headspace on my own.
Make some enthusiastic friends
I've discovered that this is probably one of the most important things for me to do, and yet also one of the hardest. It's difficult to find that buddy whom you really click with, but god, does it make a difference when we get riffing on a topic. Let me emphasize that they don't have to work in the same medium as you - I've got two buddies that I frequently trade ideas/hilarity with, and one is exclusively an artist, leaving all the writing to me.
I just tend to be one of those chameleons who kind of take on the shape and color of my surroundings ... if I'm on my own, I prett much settle into a low-energy static state, but when I'm around enthusiastic people? Boy, does my energey-level also pop. So, I've taken to attaching myself to those sorts of people, just to help get myself jump-started. (Hopefully, I've contributed equal amounts in return for what I get!) Sometimes, it's enough for me if I just get to watch a group of enthusiastic people shooting comments back and forth on a conversation thread - I've always gotten the most writing done when I'm in a cafe or in an area where I can sense a whole bunch of people around me along with a bit of bustle and energy.
Don't get critiques (at least, not in the first stages)
This may seem sort of weird, but I found it difficult to take initial critiques, and not because I think what I did was perfect and doesn't need it, but that I get so focused on making the details right, or get so overwhelmed with the thought of "Oh god this'll never work," or "I'm going to get PAGES of stuff to correct if I ask someone to go over this with a fine-toothed comb!" that I just grind to a halt. (I very much admire the folks who religiously send their stuff to beta readers, get feedback, and edit before posting. So much more patience than I have!)
So, I found it easier to just kick it out the door to get that high from reaching a landmark and don't look at it again until three weeks later. Even though I should probably get a beta to look over my stuff before I do that, I never do, because that extra pause and review is sometimes just too much - this is all about keeping my momentum going. After the fact, however, it's all fair game - rather like peer review in the scientific community, all the readers are my betas, and I've edited plenty of stuff after I've already let it out into the wild (heck, even published authors make edits to paper-published works all the time). The point is, I'll have something out there, which is the toughest barrier to overcome.
Work with my kinks (and I don't mean the shipping ones)
I love numbers. Number of comments, number of hits, whatever - it's not even for comparison to other people, I would be happy just to see a meter for myself only. (This is why the word-count meter on NaNoWriMo works so well for me.) I imagine it's rather like those people who go dungeon-crawling to expand their hoard, simply for the sake of seeing those treasures and magical items pile up in their inventory, or being OCD about filling that last slot; there's no rhyme or reason to it, it just makes me feel better. (Heck, entire companies have been based off of this fact, albeit in a more social context.)
It's why I post things. There are plenty of writers who can write simply for their own sake, for their eyes only (which I'm envious of), but I'm simply not one of those and there's no use wishing I was otherwise. Rather than beating myself up over that fact, I pander to my kink - and I post stuff where I can see responses. This drives me to write more because I see an obvious reward link - and isn't that a win-win situation? Granted, this means that sometimes I might abandon something which hasn't had a lot of excitement about it, but then, it probably wasn't something that would have survived on its own anyway, so I just let it pass peacefully, or recycle it into another work, something which happens fairly often. (I certainly don't make it my audience's responsibility to encourage it either - if I am a good enough writer, it will come about naturally, and if it doesn't, I need to practice more. The only reason why I mention this at all is to emphasize that one can use one's own quirks and "weaknesses" as an aid instead, and that there doesn't need to be a huge amount of angst over it.)
Read or watch something exciting
I never get the urge to write more strongly than after I watch a good movie or TV show (whether new or a re-run). I spend 1-2 hours immersed in this whole other world, where my sense of sight and sound have been completely inundated the entire time, while the gray matter in between has been busily churning away, trying to fill in all the gaps that the piece of work was leaving out. In essence, I have been in creation mode for a whole 60-120 minutes (and boy does Hollywood usually give you a lot of plot holes to try and imagine up explanations for). Of course I'm going to get the urge to make up stuff afterward. So, sometimes, when I really feel the urge to write something, I'll just pop in a disc and sit back and relax for a little while.
Reading, too, is sometimes a good starter, though occasionally it can actually be depressing, because I try to compare too much. Not so much "oh this author is so much better than I am", but just in the sheer frustration of seeing someone able to slap down so many words when I can barely get anything out. So, usually, I find it easier not to tempt myself with setting bars too high again, and simply read for pure pleasure instead of as a direct form of inspiration. Obviously, though, a lot of what I read for pleasure end up having an inspirational effect anyway in the end - but a lot of times, I just get sucked into reading more and more and never stop to write myself. Thus, it's safer to stick to the movies and TV shows, where they have a definite conclusion.
In Conclusion...
So, there's a lot of mumbo-jumbo psychological tricks here, and maybe just one or two management techniques in disguise, and maybe it all feels a little too much like "just think positive and it'll work out!" but really, should it be anything more than that? If my keeping myself from writing more profligately is supposed to be "all mental", then I'd think the solution should be all mental too.
And don't get me wrong, this didn't just happen overnight - I was thinking real hard on why I was at the point I was for a good few months before I finally managed to get some impetus going, and then it took a little while more for my self-pep talks to sink in. Considering how many words I've managed to put out in the last two months compared to the last two years, though, it's been worth it trying to tussle out the problems at their root.
UPDATE: November 9 - added a section on "Keep it short - and make sure it stays short"
So, following up on those bullet points I promised on how I kicked my writing funk, I'm going to first preface this by emphasizing that this is all my personal experience, and I'm in no way saying this is immediately generalizable to all people. Also, even though I've employed all these points for myself at varying times, I often have to pick and choose amongst my own strategies depending on the situation. I've tried to be as thorough and honest as I could be here, but this is probably something that could use a whole psychological treatise (which I think I'm just about 50 words shy of - sigh).
Okay, with disclaimers out of the way, moving on to the main message - which is that my writing funk more often than not arises from my making my hobby into work. The only other large factor might be lack of inspiration, but really, that is also often a direct result of my making my hobby into work.
These realizations aren't really a huge surprise to most people, so now the million-dollar question becomes - what do you do about it?
Ditch the commitments and obligations (the writing ones, not the real life ones)
This seemed like such a terrible and terrifying thing at first. I mean, who doesn't want to keep their word, whether it's made to someone else or yourself? Unfortunately, I came to the realization that the pressure I felt from "must do!" was actually keeping me from doing it ... and so, I had to first make peace with the fact that this is not something that is a must do. It is merely something that I would like to do.
I've flunked exams, mishandled great opportunities, embarrassed myself in front of important people. But, if I kept looking for additional options instead of just hiding away from the perceived failure, I inevitably found that there were ways to not only "make up" for the initial stumbles but come out ahead in the end. So I tried to apply the same philosophy to writing ... if trying to make myself do something is not working, I give it a break. Give up on it, cross it off my to-do list, let myself breathe, go do something else for a time - and who knows, maybe in a fit of inspiration later on, I'll actually end up spitting what I had wanted out so fast I'll wonder what held me up for so long in the first place. Or maybe I'll even come up with something better.
Besides which, I must hold faith that, for the most part, everyone who would like to see me produce stuff would not want to be the cause of this much distress. To give them credit, I'm sure many will say that they'd rather I keep writing, even if it's on other stuff, than to stop writing altogether simply because I promised them something.
Conclusion: I tell myself to let it go, and I'm not a failure for doing so. Even in the professional world, companies break contracts all the time as they re-evaluate their positions, and usually it's because people think it will lead to a more productive end. It's time to move on.
Don't make more than two promises to myself at a time
Note that I said "myself" and not "other people". I concluded that, for the most part, all the pressure that I feel about writing is internally generated, and so it does no good to keep from making promises to others, but then wig out about my own internal to-do list of things I promised myself. (Of course, by extension, resist making promises to others too, implied or otherwise - better yet, say nothing, then surprise them later on if you managed to squeeze something out! Surprise gifts are sometimes even more awesome!)
As a visualization, I mentally assign myself two "bins" for larger works - these are the things that I'm going to tackle for sure. If I am tempted to take on a third thing? Then I have to decide - should I chuck something from one of the bins? If not, then I don't take on that third thing - I make my peace with it right then and there that I may never think of it ever again. If it's something I definitely want? I put it in a bin, and throw away whatever used to be there.
Maybe, if it's a really fun idea, I'll write it down on some "wish-list" as a reference, so that if I find one of my bins empty, I can pick and choose from it. But for the most part, considering the communities I interact with now, I highly doubt I'll ever find myself holding an empty bin. And if I can't remember some neat idea from 2 weeks ago without referencing a list? Well, maybe I wasn't so ensnared by the idea in the first place. Yeah, it's a lost opportunity, but the world's full of opportunities, and I can't chase down every single one without going nuts.
Why two bins instead of one? Because I don't want to write myself into a rut either. Inspiration is the initial spark, the fuel, and the whip that helps me get things done. If I get too burned out on one thing, I want to have something that I can switch to without feeling too guilty to help restart that drive and spark. It's like bringing a horse and a spare - trade off between them to keep you going, but bringing three would be too much to handle.
(That's not to say that I haven't done plenty of straying though, as my one-shots will attest to! But the key here is that they're one-shots - and they stay that way until I finish one of the bins. No long-term planning is attached to them whatsoever. If I end up writing a sequel, it will be purely coincidental and not through premeditation.)
Keep it short - and make sure it stays short
This is something of a corollary to the two bins idea. I don't know how many times I've started what I initially intended as a drabble ... that soon became a one shot ... that soon became some sort of epic 30-part dynastic universe @#$O&! - anyway, you get the picture.
On the one hand, it seems really, really hard to turn off the imagination after a set point so that it doesn't just barf all over the page and turn it into a novel - I mean, I've just got these great ideas that are all screaming for the light of day, after all. On the other hand, it also seems like a huge shame to turn it off at all - I just went through all this trouble to get it working in the first place!
But here is where I have to be very, very careful. Obviously, I can't write epics for every plot bunny bite I get. On a more theoretical level, it also violates my personal two-bins rule. There's really no graceful way of doing this, but every time I am tempted to label something a "part two"? I cut it off, right then and there, at the knees if necessary.
Maybe it will leave readers dangling, give them a "to be continued ... duhn duhn duhn!" feeling without actually promising a continuation, but I have to be ruthless about this. If I want to give it a graceful conclusion? Then I will either do it right then and there in the same sitting, or at the latest, maybe a day or two immediately after, but that's it - I won't let it drag out, not unless it's one of the longer works I've reserved for one of my bins.
Personally, I'm fine with posting incomplete works or at least showing it to a bunch of close friends, though I know other people who will never let another pair of eyes fall on something that they haven't put the last dot on the end. But if I really don't want to post something that is so blatantly un-concluded, and/or I don't want to waste all the effort I went through to write it out just to lock it away in some archive folder? Usually I throw it into my scrap heap for recycling into other works - something which actually happens a fair bit. It's rather like the Sea of Simulation in that respect ... it's a mish-mash of possibilities which might eventually find life by being recombined with other things.
From the reader perspective, I think, this strategy is also appreciated - you can set their expectations right at the gate as to whether there will be more or not. Then, if they know something is incomplete and most likely won't be completed in the near future, they can choose whether to take the plunge or not.
(Notice I didn't say anything about either writing an outline or staying away from outlines - I've discovered that the length of an outline usually has nothing to do with the length of the eventual fic. I've literally had 2 paragraph outlines become 6,000 words once I wrote it out, and writing organically without an outline is no better. And by the way, there is nothing wrong with sequels! If you headspace is really churning away at that universe, invest in a sequel, not a chapter two - at least then, you will not have a feeling of responsibility hovering over you the entire time, which is one of the biggest writer-motivation killers I know of.)
Write my favorite parts first
I'm sure a lot of people do this for the most part, but I've sometimes become hung up on the whole need-for-linearity deal; it becomes such a slog to get to the parts that I want to write that I never actually get to them! Of course, after I've done all the good parts, I still have to do all the stuff in between, but now I also have the extra momentum of having all this material I've already written so far as both a sense of accomplishment and a goad to keep me going. So, more often than not, I'm jumping around and stitching things together, and it doesn't matter if I have to re-write parts I'd already written because I discovered that the in-between section won't fit quite right otherwise. Besides, editing is always so much easier than just getting stuff down in the first place.
Besides, I've also discovered that my creativity and ability to condense things work best with this strategy. If I first figure out all the islands I want to hit, sometimes I can shorten the trip between them because I discover I don't need to explain as much as I thought I had to, or I find that there's an interesting detour I can make as set-up for the next big adventure, making that in-between stage much more interesting than I had originally planned.
Try something COMPLETELY new - or something not so new - JUST KEEP TRYING
This kind of ties into the first point. Often, I feel discouraged to try anything because omg, I have all these stories I promised to folk, or I have such a loyalty built up in this particular fandom even if I've sort of milked it for all the enthusiasm I could, or - yeah, I never really have to go far to find reasons not to do anything.
But, sometimes one just needs to start with a clean slate again, clear that buffer, wipe off those spark plugs - insert metaphor here - in order to get a good start again. Try a completely new fandom, a sci-fi instead of a fantasy, a new pairing, a new character, an alternate universe, or maybe something completely original.
Or maybe don't try fiction at all - just write a bunch of reviews, blog posts, or maybe even tweets. (I'm serious about the tweets - before I got my writing feet back under me, I started with blogs to try and get myself writing again, but when even that seemed too onerous, I tweeted up a storm before I got over my fright over words and started inching out beyond the 150 character limit. Then I discovered a fandom and a community that I could really sink my teeth into, and it was hasta la vista from there.)
This is just about jump-starting some enthusiasm again, about completing a thought from beginning to end rather than just taking care of your side of a conversation, about not breaking into a sweat at the thought of throwing words onto a blank page. Up till this point, I had been in text-based RPs and chats for years, and I almost literally had anxiety attacks at the thought of having to write something solo - I was so used to the writing-partner/conversationalist dynamic that I felt like I almost couldn't complete a single page without someone else to come up with the other half of the material. Thus, it was time to wean myself off of that dependency, and learn to recreate my headspace on my own.
Make some enthusiastic friends
I've discovered that this is probably one of the most important things for me to do, and yet also one of the hardest. It's difficult to find that buddy whom you really click with, but god, does it make a difference when we get riffing on a topic. Let me emphasize that they don't have to work in the same medium as you - I've got two buddies that I frequently trade ideas/hilarity with, and one is exclusively an artist, leaving all the writing to me.
I just tend to be one of those chameleons who kind of take on the shape and color of my surroundings ... if I'm on my own, I prett much settle into a low-energy static state, but when I'm around enthusiastic people? Boy, does my energey-level also pop. So, I've taken to attaching myself to those sorts of people, just to help get myself jump-started. (Hopefully, I've contributed equal amounts in return for what I get!) Sometimes, it's enough for me if I just get to watch a group of enthusiastic people shooting comments back and forth on a conversation thread - I've always gotten the most writing done when I'm in a cafe or in an area where I can sense a whole bunch of people around me along with a bit of bustle and energy.
Don't get critiques (at least, not in the first stages)
This may seem sort of weird, but I found it difficult to take initial critiques, and not because I think what I did was perfect and doesn't need it, but that I get so focused on making the details right, or get so overwhelmed with the thought of "Oh god this'll never work," or "I'm going to get PAGES of stuff to correct if I ask someone to go over this with a fine-toothed comb!" that I just grind to a halt. (I very much admire the folks who religiously send their stuff to beta readers, get feedback, and edit before posting. So much more patience than I have!)
So, I found it easier to just kick it out the door to get that high from reaching a landmark and don't look at it again until three weeks later. Even though I should probably get a beta to look over my stuff before I do that, I never do, because that extra pause and review is sometimes just too much - this is all about keeping my momentum going. After the fact, however, it's all fair game - rather like peer review in the scientific community, all the readers are my betas, and I've edited plenty of stuff after I've already let it out into the wild (heck, even published authors make edits to paper-published works all the time). The point is, I'll have something out there, which is the toughest barrier to overcome.
Work with my kinks (and I don't mean the shipping ones)
I love numbers. Number of comments, number of hits, whatever - it's not even for comparison to other people, I would be happy just to see a meter for myself only. (This is why the word-count meter on NaNoWriMo works so well for me.) I imagine it's rather like those people who go dungeon-crawling to expand their hoard, simply for the sake of seeing those treasures and magical items pile up in their inventory, or being OCD about filling that last slot; there's no rhyme or reason to it, it just makes me feel better. (Heck, entire companies have been based off of this fact, albeit in a more social context.)
It's why I post things. There are plenty of writers who can write simply for their own sake, for their eyes only (which I'm envious of), but I'm simply not one of those and there's no use wishing I was otherwise. Rather than beating myself up over that fact, I pander to my kink - and I post stuff where I can see responses. This drives me to write more because I see an obvious reward link - and isn't that a win-win situation? Granted, this means that sometimes I might abandon something which hasn't had a lot of excitement about it, but then, it probably wasn't something that would have survived on its own anyway, so I just let it pass peacefully, or recycle it into another work, something which happens fairly often. (I certainly don't make it my audience's responsibility to encourage it either - if I am a good enough writer, it will come about naturally, and if it doesn't, I need to practice more. The only reason why I mention this at all is to emphasize that one can use one's own quirks and "weaknesses" as an aid instead, and that there doesn't need to be a huge amount of angst over it.)
Read or watch something exciting
I never get the urge to write more strongly than after I watch a good movie or TV show (whether new or a re-run). I spend 1-2 hours immersed in this whole other world, where my sense of sight and sound have been completely inundated the entire time, while the gray matter in between has been busily churning away, trying to fill in all the gaps that the piece of work was leaving out. In essence, I have been in creation mode for a whole 60-120 minutes (and boy does Hollywood usually give you a lot of plot holes to try and imagine up explanations for). Of course I'm going to get the urge to make up stuff afterward. So, sometimes, when I really feel the urge to write something, I'll just pop in a disc and sit back and relax for a little while.
Reading, too, is sometimes a good starter, though occasionally it can actually be depressing, because I try to compare too much. Not so much "oh this author is so much better than I am", but just in the sheer frustration of seeing someone able to slap down so many words when I can barely get anything out. So, usually, I find it easier not to tempt myself with setting bars too high again, and simply read for pure pleasure instead of as a direct form of inspiration. Obviously, though, a lot of what I read for pleasure end up having an inspirational effect anyway in the end - but a lot of times, I just get sucked into reading more and more and never stop to write myself. Thus, it's safer to stick to the movies and TV shows, where they have a definite conclusion.
In Conclusion...
So, there's a lot of mumbo-jumbo psychological tricks here, and maybe just one or two management techniques in disguise, and maybe it all feels a little too much like "just think positive and it'll work out!" but really, should it be anything more than that? If my keeping myself from writing more profligately is supposed to be "all mental", then I'd think the solution should be all mental too.
And don't get me wrong, this didn't just happen overnight - I was thinking real hard on why I was at the point I was for a good few months before I finally managed to get some impetus going, and then it took a little while more for my self-pep talks to sink in. Considering how many words I've managed to put out in the last two months compared to the last two years, though, it's been worth it trying to tussle out the problems at their root.