I believe minimalism is especially beneficial to writers. When there is so much to distract and keep us from focusing on our work, minimalist principals can help us to find focus, and live happier, healthier and more productive lives. 

The whole concept can be kind of daunting, though. When I talk about minimalism, I’m often met with shrugs or questions. “I like the idea of that,” people often say, “But I just don’t think I can do it.” The word brings up images of shelves with one plant, empty white walls and tea-drinking millennials smugly telling you about the evils of smart phones. But minimalism doesn’t have to look like that. Far from it. The way a person applies minimalism to their lives isn’t one-size-fits all. And trying it out doesn’t have to be complicated. 

One of the best ways to explore minimalism and how it can specifically benefit writers is to read on the topic. These five books offer a great introduction to the philosophy of minimalism, and how you can use it to live a happier writing life. 

1) Everything That Remains

Part memoir, part guidebook, Everything that Remains is written by Joshua Fields Millburn and Ryan Nicodemus, better known as “The Minimalists,” and best known for their Netflix documentary, Minimalism: A Documentary about the Important Things. It chronicles how Joshua, in his mid-twenties and rocked by his mother’s death, started to pursue a more meaningful life–first by decluttering his house, then by deciding what mattered most and pursuing it and nothing else.

Ryan, seeing the quiet joy emanating from his best friend, asked him what had changed, and how he could change, too. Instead of a slow process, Ryan and Joshua boxed up all of Ryan’s possessions in a “packing party.” Ryan only kept what he unboxed over the next few weeks, and donated the rest. As they figured out and focused on what matters most, both young men found more meaningful, joyful lives, eventually quitting their corporate jobs to share this message of “less is more” with the world. They even moved to a cabin in Montana to write this book!

The minimalists also have a podcast, blog and youtube channel where they regularly discuss living by minimalist principles, and the benefits of doing so. If you’re looking for an introduction to minimalism as a philosophy coupled with a great story, Everything That Remains is an excellent choice. 

2) How to Build a Year Round Capsule Wardrobe

Capsule wardrobes are considered a kind of minimalism gateway drug– building one is a way to try out minimalism without committing to de-cluttering your whole house and life. But the idea of a capsule wardrobe can be intimidating or off-putting– it often invokes images of a single rack of clothing, monochromatic shirts, strict clothes quotas. People think this means you have to have a certain number of pieces*, that it should all look like a minimalist pixie dream girl’s half-empty but still giant closet, and if it isn’t you’re doing it wrong. 

Really, a capsule wardrobe can be whatever size you want and consist of whatever clothes you want. But it’s curated, to your taste, your style, your needs and your budget. The point of building a capsule wardrobe is not to fit it to someone else’s idea of what a capsule wardrobe should be–it’s to figure out what you want your wardrobe to look like, get rid of what no longer fits that ideal, and slowly–budget permitting–add in the pieces that will complete it. The idea is to be deliberate about what clothes you keep, donate and add. 

I found Jessica Rose Williams, a minimalist writer, through her Instagram. This ebook is her first–one of a trio now. It guides you through the process of discerning your personal style, and then culling your wardrobe to only pieces you love and feel good in. It’s a gentle, guided approach that will leave you with a closet that makes you smile every time you open it. Often, this process of de-cluttering your wardrobe can lead people to want to de-clutter more, which brings me to my next book recommendation. 

*This idea may come from minimalist challenges like Project 333 or the 10×10 Challenge, which challenge you to only use a certain number of pieces of clothing. The key difference here is that these challenges are only for a certain amount of time. If you do the 10×10 challenge, you only use ten pieces of clothing, but it’s only for ten days. You’re not throwing the rest out. Admittedly, I’ve not tried these, but they seem like another great way to dip your toe into minimalism, and connect with other minimalists. 

3) The Life Changing Magic of Tidying Up

This book was a runaway bestseller long before Marie Kondo’s Netflix show made her a household name. In it, Marie Kondo introduces readers to her “KonMari” method. It is a way of cleaning out your house, then re-ordering it so that every item has a place. Her promise? You’ll never have to do it again. This is a one-time cure-all for your mess.

I think the true wisdom of this method is that, rather than focusing on what you throw away (or donate or sell, ideally), you focus on what you keep. Starting with clothing, then working through books and papers, kimono (miscellany) and then things with sentimental value last, you put every item to a very simple test. Does it, in Kondo’s words, “Spark joy?” If not, it goes*. 

This sounds almost impossible, but the more you work through this method, the more you’ll get a sense for what does, in fact, spark joy for you. Walking into a room filled only with things that you love and use regularly is a special kind of heaven. And having such a curated and calm environment is great for the creative process. 

*It can be intimidating to give up items that don’t really spark joy, but that seem necessary, or that might be necessary in the future. The Minimalists have a rule that I apply in situations like this, called the “20/20 rule.” If you don’t want to keep an item, but think you might need it someday, ask yourself, “Can I replace this for less than twenty dollars, in less than twenty minutes?” If so, toss it. Of course, if we had to spend twenty dollars replacing every item we discard, this would be horrible advice. But, in reality, I’ve never replaced something I’ve thrown out after applying this test. We often keep things out of fear rather than actual necessity. 

4) Essentialism

If you are inspired by stories of other minimalists, and have found a de-cluttering process beneficial, you’re probably wanting to apply minimalist principles to other areas of your life. To de-clutter your work, your schedule, and your social calendar, to home in on the things that matter. Minimalism, really, isn’t about getting rid of things. It’s not even about what you keep. It’s about deciding what is valuable to you, and prioritizing it. The clothes, the clutter, these are the physical manifestation of what will become a mental process. 

Essentialism is a guide to getting there. Greg McKeown’s slim, clear and concise book is both to the point and expansive, covering both why a minimalist mindset is freeing and effective, and how to put one into practice. He calls Essentialism the “disciplined pursuit of less.” This is how he describes it:

“The Way of the Essentialist isn’t about getting more done in less time. It’s about getting only the right things done.  It is not a time management strategy, or a productivity technique. It is a systematic discipline for discerning what is absolutely essential, then eliminating everything that is not, so we can make the highest possible contribution towards the things that really matter.”

I’ve read it twice and, during my Corona Virus Quarantine, am planning to read it again. I find it both informative and inspiring, and a perfect introduction to applying minimalist principals to the most important areas of my life–my relationships, my faith, and my work. There is something very freeing about deciding what matters to you and going after it. Doing so can have a profound impact on your mental health, your productivity, and your overall happiness. It can also help you make space and time for the most important things (that book you’ve wanted to write, that poetry class you’ve been meaning to attend).

Which brings me to my final book. 

5) Deep Work

While not a minimalist book, per se, (although its author, Cal Newport, has gone on to write a book about Digital Minimalism), Deep Work uses minimalist principles to advocate for a practical method for getting more of the right things done. 

As writers, two of our most valuable resources are under outright attack by the modern world. These resources aren’t talent, they’re not platform, they’re not skill or craft or knowledge. No, the most important things for a writer–and the things that are increasingly hard to get in the modern world–are time and focus. 

While we might not have full control over our time, we do have control over what we focus on. If we only have an hour a day to write, and we spend ten minutes of it scrolling through Twitter, we’ve given Jack one of our most precious resources . . . for free. Deep Work shows the power of focusing on a single task for a set amount of time, and the extraordinary benefits to both our mental health and productivity. The message is simple but profound: focus on one thing, and only one thing, at a time. Do this several times a day. And just watch how much you get done.

I apply Deep Work principals to my writing day, breaking it up into forty five minute chunks, often with a thirty minute break in-between. This seemed crazy to me at first — why not work for the full hour and fifteen minutes? But in actuality, you cannot focus on one single task for massive amounts of time. But by doing one task for a shorter, set amount of time, and doing nothing else during that time, you’d be amazed at how much you can get done. It’s been absolute magic for my writing life, and especially beneficial now that I’m working from home and making my own schedule. 

Applying minimalist principals further, I’ve tried to make my breaks from work more meaningful. I could scroll Twitter, but I find that when I do, I come back to the page feeling stressed, drained and unfocused. If, instead, I read a book, I come back to the page refreshed, calm and ready to work. With Corona Virus, the news is especially stressful, but also much more necessary. I wouldn’t want to not read the news right now, but I am being very careful about how much I read it. The result is that I’m able to focus during the workday, and I find my mental health much better for it. 

Have you tried applying minimalism to your writing life? Let me know what worked, what didn’t, and if you have any recommendations!  

Bess McAllister writes epic books in expansive worlds from a little house in the Midwest. For seven years, she lived in New York and worked as a fiction editor at Tor Books. Now, she spends her days telling stories and helping other writers tell theirs. Check out her editorial services and connect with her on Instagram. 

Bess’s work is represented by Brooks Sherman at Janklow and Nesbit Associates. 

The post #5onFri: Five Books for Writers Interested in Minimalism appeared first on DIY MFA.

Marie Kondo and the Minimalists don’t advocate for the exact same method, and both stress that different individuals will approach minimalism differently, but they’ve both created a large following of dedicated “minimalists.” I think the concept is resonating with people because our lives are so cluttered. Our houses are full. Our minds never stop. We’re constantly an iPhone click away from the world of online shopping, social media, and politics. The idea of de-cluttering your house—and that leading to de-cluttering your mind and life, allowing you to live with more purpose—is an intriguing one.

Minimalism for Writers

So what does this have to do with writing? Well, I don’t know about you, but I have a hard time un-cluttering my bookshelf, much less my apartment, my mind or my life. Like most writers, I have a full time job in addition to personal commitments. My life is anything but uncluttered, and my schedule is as crowded as my apartment.

Finding the time to write is difficult enough. But I also often don’t have the space and quiet and focus to write well. I write in small pockets, and generally amid a certain amount of chaos. On the train. In a café. At an apartment with roommates watching TV ten feet away. To a certain extent, this is inescapable. We are surrounded by people and things, jockeying for our time and concentration.

This is exactly why the idea of minimalism is so appealing to me as a writer. Are there ways that I can carve out a quiet, uncluttered space for writing? And how might my writing and mindset change if I did?

Trying it Out

When I read Kondo’s book last year, I began to see how the benefits of minimalism may be particularly useful for writers. I saw the potential, and started my own process of “tidying up.” In a recent Instagram post, Kondo wrote: “When readers initially complete the book, many only partially tidy because they are skeptical about the Method or they never get around to completely tidying.”

That ended up being me. But, I did throw away or donate a lot of stuff, and began to see how minimalism could really work. I even chucked my desk. What? Yes. I threw away my desk. After going through my entire closet and getting rid of clothes that didn’t “spark joy,” I looked at that old thing—part of a furniture set that was now long gone, with three of its seven drawers not even working, and decided it didn’t spark joy. In fact, it did the opposite. It served the function of giving me somewhere to write, but was a daily source of frustration, and took up a huge chunk of space in my tiny bedroom. So, I donated it. I set up a writing spot in my kitchen, under the bright sunlight of a window, and decided I’d find a desk that brought me real joy.

I didn’t miss that desk. I enjoyed the extra space, and the feeling of walking into a light, airy room. I enjoyed knowing all of my clothes were in my closet—yes, even seasonal ones—because I’d pared down my wardrobe to stuff I actually wore. I even donated two whole boxes of books (not that this made a massive dent). Because I’d done a lot of what I already deemed drastic, I thought I’d officially “Tidied.”

Minimalism Fail

One of the biggest benefits of minimalism, that both Kondo and the Minimalists talk about, is that getting rid of stuff frees you up to live in the present. For example, Kondo discusses how you don’t need papers from a class you took three years ago. You have the knowledge in your head. The papers just take up space, a relic of who you were, not the person you are or are becoming. Same with the majority of mementos. In one haunting scene in Everything That Remains, the authors describe Joshua going through his mom’s apartment after her death. She had boxes and boxes of schoolwork from Joshua’s childhood. Untouched. Gathering dust. And for what purpose? She had the real, live Joshua right there. What was the point of keeping papers from when he was seven? Papers no one even looked at?

This was the part in the de-cluttering process where I got stuck and quit, and I imagine it’s a problem that would particularly effect writers. With five manuscripts in my rear-view, I’ve accumulated a lot of old drafts. I used to have them in boxes under my bed. But, in keeping with Kondo’s method, I pulled those boxes out, and I put all the drafts on one of my bookshelves. It really looks quite unattractive. They’re organized. But they’re in the past. Books I won’t be re-writing again. I asked myself, Do I really need them? Especially given that I have the files on my computer? But then, those files were also a cluttered mess, and I didn’t really like delving into them. The decision felt too big, so I left them on my shelf, let a few more piles accumulate, and didn’t think about it again until I watched the Minimalist’s Documentary and read their memoir almost a year later.

Digital Clutter

One area that neither Kondo nor the Minimalists discussed (disclaimer: I haven’t read everything they’ve written) is the idea of digital minimalism. Of clearing the clutter on our computers. Perhaps I’m acutely aware of this because I have fifteen million drafts of each of my books on my computer. I think most writers probably do. And the idea of un-cluttering this particular tool is particularly daunting. But, having seen the benefits of de-cluttering my physical space even half-way, I think de-cluttering my digital ones as well could be hugely beneficial. It would allow me to put old work behind me, knowing I’ve gained knowledge from what I’ve already written, but perhaps don’t need to hold onto it. Also, having an organized file of all my manuscripts and drafts would give me more peace of mind with throwing away the physical ones. I think it will give me more peace of mind period.

Yesterday, I cleaned off my desktop, deleting or cataloguing every file except the Scrivener manuscript I’m currently working on, and replacing my background with a simple, clean and light image. I also emptied out all my inboxes, and disconnected all of them from my Start menu. I was surprised by how much peace and focus even just these small acts brought me. And I wondered how much more de-stressed, peaceful and focused I’d feel if I knew that I didn’t have piles of unorganized files in tons of folders throughout my hard drive. If I didn’t have a giant archive of emails, but only kept important ones. Would my computer feel more like a productive writing tool and less like a dumping ground? What might that do for my (admittedly still limited) writing time? Could I focus better with less to focus on?

The Experiment

Over the next month, I’ll be putting this question into practice, de-cluttering everything from my nightstand to my email inbox. The idea is to push “delete” more than “archive.” To let go of things from the past—yes, even manuscripts—and free up my working spaces, both physical and digital, for creation, rather than storage. At DIY MFA, we’re all about iteration. This is a concept I think is worth giving a try.

In my next article, I’ll share the results. If I find the process are helpful as I expect, I’ll also go deeper into my methods. Virginia Woolfe said a female writer needs, “A room of one’s own.” I think this is true of all writers, both male and female. We need space to create. And I might add that we ought to think quite carefully about what we allow to accumulate in that space.

Interested in keeping up with my minimalism experiment? Check back for my next article, or follow along on social media. I’ll be using the hashtag #WriterMinimalism

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