Borrowing a Process, Finding My Own: A writer’s experiement in patience, prose, and rediscovery

It has been a while since I last chimed in on the Haruki Murakami Method. This method, based on an essay by Haruki Murakami, describes his writing/editing process.

For the past year, I tried a version of it as I wrote a new novella tentatively titled Marigolds in May. And while that project remains unfinished, it is by no means abandoned. On the contrary, I learned more about my own writing method, what I was doing on the page unbeknownst to myself, and have a plan moving forward.

I have learned that the path to storytelling is paved with deep questions, focus, and consistency. And, not surprisingly, that takes time, which is what I think the Murakami Method is really about.

Here’s what I learned by using the Murakami Method that may help you with your writing practice:

1.) Set a goal for every writing session

How many sessions have you started by saying, “I am just going to write”? And maybe that feels great and wonderful at first, but then how long does that keep going? I know I’ve been guilty of this more than once. One of the things that surprised me is how having a consistent writing goal every time I sat down was probably the best thing about this process.

According to the method, every time you sat down to write, you could not get up until 3 pages were completed. Even if I edited them out later, those 3 pages were enough to explore, expand, or discover something new. It helped me go in different directions when I needed to and try new things. It was long enough to move the needle but short enough to not take all day. This was great for my busy schedule, though some days were harder than others.

It was nice to know that all I had to do was three pages. That’s it. This is similar to The Artist’s Way technique of hand journaling three pages, regardless of how long it takes. There’s something about that three-page sweet spot that opens up the writing.

2.) Rest is necessary

One of the wildest things about this method is the amount of time you spend resting. After finishing a section, you rest for a week. That meant no looking at or thinking about the piece. You were free to do other things, read, watch movies, and live your life without writing. Then you returned to another area of the project, worked on it until complete, and then rested again. So on and so forth. This worked more for revision, but it also helps with the creation part as well. After writing for a consistent couple of weeks, I’d take a break. Then I would return to the project.

All these breaks helped with pacing myself on writing so that I wouldn’t get burned out (which happens to the best of us). It also allowed me to do other types of writing, since one of the things about the method is that you clear off your “desk” and focus on one project at a time (as you well know, I am a person who loves working on a project). In addition to this, it also allowed me to return to the page with a clearer head. I could see issues in the prose and how to fix them much easier. I could question some of my choices and consider other alternatives if needed.

Frankly, it was during these times I felt more like a writer than any other time. Allowing the prose to breathe like wine helped me see some nuances I didn’t know I was building. That leads me to…

3.) Everything you need is on the page

So, my MFA is in creative writing fiction. I worked really hard at learning and executing the writing of literary prose. But that muscle is very much a use-it-or-lose-it type of thing. At least, that is what I thought. Looking back at those pages, I am seeing something interesting—the return of technique.

4.) Doing his process reminded me of my own

Borrowing this process from another writer made me realize, or maybe remember, what my process is. I loved playing around with the Murakami Method, but I also realized what I needed that I wasn’t getting—an opportunity to really read what I was writing and immerse myself in. In essence, I needed an opportunity to think bigger and consider what the prose was having a conversation with—what I was actually saying and not what I thought I was saying.

Fine-tuning this muscle helped me understand what the ending of the novella would be. I know I may have discussed this in a previous post, but part of my process is to write for discovery—characters, theme, plot, etc. Once I have the ending, I return to the basics: I plot out the story (plot chart or an outline), do more work on characterization, and then write to the goal like a target.

Then the real fun begins—the revision!

So, if I had to distill my experience with the Murakami Method, I’d go back to what I said before—deep questions, focus, and consistency. There’s no shortcut for this, I’m afraid. This is the heavy lifting of writing and why it is hard. Sometimes, you don’t find the lesson or the message until after you start. In the end, I am glad for this relearned lesson, especially as I continue to work on new writing projects.

As for me, I’m still working on Marigolds in May and have a direct line to the ending. I’m writing a really interesting scene at the moment. Sorry, I can’t say much more than that, however.

May your writing projects bring you both joy and insights!

Write on,

—Ices