Your unique and inherent personality affects everything you
do—including writing. Most of us are going to spend the rest of our lives
learning how we tick and how best to apply our strengths and correct our
weaknesses. This is just as true of writing as it is of familial relationships
or workplace effectiveness.
The first step in learning how to maximize your personality’s
pros and minimize its cons is to figure out your basic personality type. I’m a
fan of the ancient “four temperaments” approach (popularized by Tim LaHaye,
among others), in which human personalities are narrowed down into four basic
categories: choleric, melancholic, sanguine, and phlegmatic. Today, we’re going
to take a quick look at all four personalities to help you identify into which
category you prominently fall* and how to make the most of it as a writer.
I’ve asked three other writers to help out by describing
their experiences with maximizing their personality’s potential in their
writing. I’ll sound off first:
The Choleric Writer:
K.M. Weiland
Cholerics don’t do much of anything halfway. They thunder
through life at top speed, which presents both their greatest strength and
their greatest weakness. They’re determined, aggressive, and productive. They’re
“good enough” people. Perfectionism doesn’t cripple them, but that can mean
they don’t always complete jobs as well as they should. They
can also be disorganized, impatient, and overbearing.
What
strengths does being a choleric bring to your writing?
As a
choleric, I have a good work ethic and the ability to focus and grit my way
through difficult tasks. If I want to get something done, I get it done. I’m
more organized than some cholerics, which helps me streamline my productivity.
I’m good at breaking projects down to manageable chunks, chewing through them
without letting perfectionism hold me back, and then moving on to the next
thing.
What
weaknesses does being a choleric inflict on your writing?
Moving
at such a fast and furious pace all the time can sometimes lead to burnout. For
better or worse, I usually just end up blowing right on through that as well.
But I am learning to pace myself on certain projects to let my brain and body
rest and regenerate. I actually have quite a few melancholic traits, which gives me
an attention to detail that often makes up for my lack of perfectionism. But,
even still, sometimes my “good enough” attitude can let projects slip out into
the public before I’ve double-checked important aspects. Really, I find that
the greatest pitfall of a choleric personality in a writer is the tendency to
put productivity and deadlines before relationships. I have to work to keep my
priorities straight.
The Melancholic Writer: London
Crockett
(London is a YA fantasy author, living in Chicago.)
Melancholics
are arguably the most talented of all the personalities. They often have a
natural bent toward artistic expression, including writing. They’re
detail-oriented, patient, and idealistic. But in spite of all their talent,
they’re often prone to feelings of insecurity and self-doubt. Their
perfectionism and mood swings can cause them to feel they never measure up,
which can, in turn, keep them from completing projects.
What strengths does being a melancholic bring to your
writing?
For non-fiction writing, a need for precision is a huge virtue.
For example, I’m compelled to note that I can’t necessarily extract the
melancholy nature from my personality at large. Art—whether fiction,
non-fiction, or something else—is born from labor as much as inspiration.
Being energized by artistic expression makes the labor rewarding, and patience
allows me to stay dedicated to big projects for years. I don’t normally think
of myself as detail-oriented (I care about idealistic abstracts more than
details), but in practice, the pursuit of the ideal means that I sweat the
details.
What weaknesses does being a melancholic inflict on your
writing?
It took a long time to have a consistent faith in my writing.
Even now that I have a persistent confidence, I struggle with getting stuck and
avoiding writing. Managing the tendency to be derailed by doubt requires
forcing yourself to write badly and skip over things that aren’t working.
Remember that when writing “bird by bird” (per the wonderful Anne Lamott), you don’t have to craft each bird in order. If the chickadee
isn’t taking flight, skip to the crow. One warning that is commonly given to
sensitive perfectionists (melancholics) is to start small: walk around the
block before you plan a marathon. However, I think that’s unrealistic for
idealists. If you’re inclined to dream big, go for it, but build in rewards to
ensure your patience carries you past your self-doubt.
The Sanguine Writer: Linda Yezak
Sanguines
are the bubbly extroverts who bring life to any party. They’re fun and funny,
sociable and charismatic. These folks know how to tell a good story—with all
the dramatic flourishes. They’re often compassionate and emotional (in both the
good and the bad senses of the word). However, they can also be unorganized and
undependable, which can lead to difficulties in creating consistent writing
schedules and finishing stories.
What strengths does being a sanguine bring to your writing?
Just like the definition says, I know how to tell a story, with
all the dramatic flourishes. Rhythm and timing seem to come naturally to me.
Knowing the pause beat before the punch line, knowing tone development, knowing
when, on a dark and stormy night, to flash the light under my chin and yell boo! are all intuitive. Charisma often
flares upon the page, and its immediacy draws readers in every time. My opening
pages always promise a good time … which leads me to my weaknesses.
What weaknesses does being a sanguine inflict on your writing?
I really can start a novel with a bang, but unless someone’s
constantly riding me, unless someone’s expecting to see that next chapter, I
may take a year or two to finish my first draft. I’ll get the first two
chapters written, then put it off. When it comes to my own work, I need to be
pushed and, though I hate to admit it, I need strong, praise-filled encouragement
to keep me going. I get discouraged very
easily. I can take the criticism (after engaging in melodramatic episodes of
self-pity), but I feed off praise like a vampire on a juicy vein. The “undependable”
part of the definition applies only to my own work. For my clients and others,
I have no problem whatsoever. But I’d hate for anyone to see how many
incomplete projects I have—and not just writing!
The Phlegmatic Writer: Johne Cook
Phlegmatics
are the Steady Eddies. They’re not easily ruffled, which means they get to
avoid many of the high and low mood swings the other personality types can be
prone to. They’re dependable, thoughtful, and pragmatic. But they can also struggle
to find motivation and energy to start—and then finish—projects.
What strengths does being a phlegmatic bring to your writing?
I am calm, friendly, easy-going,
and balanced. I see the best in people and work well with
difficult people—this
works to my advantage working with editors and as an editor working with
writers with delicate sensibilities. I adapt easily to changes, which helps me
pick up new genres, applications, contact people, and technologies. I’m a pretty good listener. This helps me see sides of people others may not see and represent a
person’s complexity in my writing. I have a
talent for bringing people together in real life, and also in my writing. I
like the energy and synergy of throwing apparently disparate people together, and I especially value stories where that happens. I am not usually the leader, but am a fierce follower. I am immune to what the cool kids are doing,
but when I find something good or noble or undervalued, I am good right-hand
man.
What weaknesses does being a phlegmatic inflict on your writing?
Despite my apparent friendly
exterior, it can be difficult to really get inside my head and know my
true person—I have subtle armor. As a
result, my writing can also come across as genial but shallow. It takes effort
to really dive deep and open my soul. I like it when everyone gets along and
has a good time. Therefore, I wrestle with allowing my characters to feel pain
and conflict. As a steady, even-keeled person, I have
middling energy to begin with. When I am bounced with an idea or a turn of
phrase, if I don’t capture that insight the moment I think about it, there’s
a decent chance I’ll never do it at all. This means I’ve learned to have
mechanisms to deal with that spur-of-the-moment epiphany; I use online tools
like Evernote and Dropbox to capture ideas from anywhere. I can be indecisive, have a tendency to procrastinate, and
can be difficult to motivate. If not careful, I tend to play it safe (when I
rouse myself to participate at all). I wrestle with the fact that my
goals may be lower than they ought to be.
So there you have it—a quick primer on basic writer
personalities. Once you’ve identified your primary personality traits and
figured out your strengths and weaknesses, you can move forward with a plan of
action to help you take advantage of your good points and overcome your
weaknesses—in life as well as writing!
