Writer’s block, or WB, as I like to call it affectionately, is like a thing straight out of a Henry Ford saying. Whether you think it’s your friend or your enemy, you’re probably right.
As panic breeds panic (and work breeds more work), WB breeds WB… if you let it.
According to songwriter and Beatles expert Matt Blick, for example, there’s simply “no such thing as writer’s block” – it’s just the fear of writing something bad or stupid.
Boom! Problem solved.
***
Not convinced?
Below, you’ll find a few ideas on top of the usual take-a-break/have-a-shower/go-for-a-walk advice, to help take the edge off that looming deadline or the conviction that you’re overdue for a masterpiece.
A few long-way-rounds to the destination you seem so desperate to find a shortcut to.
A few tricks to fool your mind out of fear.
Because let’s face it. Impeccable writing is not a must like food, drink or sleep. So much depends upon a red wheelbarrow, yes.
But not all of it.
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An aside.
I normally charge 1000 currency units for a one-hour one-on-one WB-cure session. Clients book an appointment a week in advance and then miraculously get well the day before. If they don’t, I call them to say my rate has doubled. It works like a charm.
If you don’t have a week to lose though (and since you seem to have better things to do than writing at the moment), I invite you to read on, dear reader.
Dear on.
***
Here then, in random monastic order, are 20 ways to get rid of writer’s block:
- Write “writer’s block” on a page, crumple it into a ball and throw it in the wastepaper basket. Why not in the bin? Because the former’s longer and it allows you to get ahead in the score.
- Now write a story about what you just did in the most ridiculously convoluted language you can imagine. Especially if you aspire to be as terse as Hemingway. Do the opposite of what you think you should. The backlash in your brain is bound to be [blank]
- Speaking of doing the opposite, DO NOT get rid of WB just yet. Set a place for it at the table, give it a name (Wesley Buttercups, Wilma Brimstone), fix it a drink, hear it out and write it a cheque. See? You’re writing again.
- So what is this WB character’s back story? Write it down! Does it limp? Does it lisp? Is it cross-eyed or cross legged? What are its pronouns? That’s what I’d like to know…
- Did I say a story? Write a novel, a murder mystery, a three-act play. Doubleyou B meets Bubbleyou C… Try and finish one of those! Is this really what you want to be writing? And you thought WB was a pain…
- Fight fire with fire. Write WB out of your system. I mean literally. How many times can you copy “writer’s block” (on a blackboard) before you get bored and start writing something else? Before you get to “writers block road to fruition, new writers on the block, writer chops own head off in bid to end…”
- Actually, that’s a good idea. Write twenty newspaper headlines about WB. The more ludicrous, the better. Who knows? The local rag might be interested…
- Did I say literally? Carve “writer” on a block of wood and put it on a shelf in a closet. You can also stare it down on occasion, feed it muffin crumbs or throw it at the head of a colleague shouting “I believe that’s yours!”
- If you don’t believe in violence as a solution but still need to take it out on something, the culprit is staring you in the face. “Writer’s block.” How many mistakes can you make in such a short phrase? How many ways can you find to massacre the miscreant? Writers block, writers’ bloc, Writer S. Bloch, wrighters, righters, rite errs, write terse, rye turs… How many stories hide in there? How many poems?
- Did I say mistakes? Make mistakes on purpose. Have fun for once.
“Wot is ur neim?”
“Mai naim ist Wrighter.”
“Is dis wot u wrought? Shure its knot Wronger?”
“I Kent be Annie ronger then Zat, can eye?”
“Aye, U Ken! “
“Nah, U Ken. I Ben.”
- Did I say poems? Write a poem about WB, a sonnet, a haiku, a limerick. You’ve tried destroying it, now try to make sense of it. Maybe even an acrostic:
To WB, with love
Writer’s block, my good old friend
Rite of passage to the end
I tear page by empty page, a
Terse summary of
Erstwhile potence which
Rests writhing like an
S on the chopping
Block, a catalogue of
Locked stories
Ochre thoughts and
Close encounters of the
Killing kind
- While looking for meaning, consider WB as a palimpsest, a thing to see (instead of get) through, a coded message for you to decipher. Is every letter the beginning of a sentence or line (as above)? Are there letters missing, as vowels from the Hebrew alphabet or papyrus fragments eaten by moths? Are every two letters framing a secret word? Is it an anagram?
- Or are there too many letters? Instead of starting with an empty page, you can start with a printed one. Annotate it, fill up the margins or, conversely, blot out letters and words to find the answer. You can also do some cutting and pasting the old-fashioned way – with scissors and glue.
The number of games you can play is endless. And once you’re in game mode, why stop at the name of the problem? Consider the question! The solution often hides in the phrasing of the issue:
- Beat writer’s block? Not your problem, unless you’re a beat writer (in which case just hitch a ride to the other side of the manuscript).
- Overcome creative blocks? Drop the BS and turn your key in. Stack ’em up and climb on top, the better to see. Rename them and move on.
Excretera.
***
Have I koan-ed you into action yet? Spurred you into galop? Stirred up a storm in your coffee cup?
The fixes above are literally silly for a reason.
Even without the distractions lurking around every corner of our screens, there is too much to choose from when you sit down to write. Words, meanings, turns of phrase. That’s why it helps to
- Use constraints. If you are so lost that you don’t know where to start, start with the label you attach to your malaise. You can also use only certain letters, only certain words or only certain pencils. The more limitations you place on yourself, the more time you’ll have to figure out how to make something out of (almost) nothing.
Also, as suggested in the very beginning, we are often paralyzed by trying to write the final draft first. We are so focused on quality that we forget how much it depends on quantity. It’s how natural selection works. It’s how you were made.
First drafts are by definition as shitty as they are necessary and if you can’t skip that step, you might as well be purposeful about it. Hence, the above prompts.
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When Isaac Asimov got stuck on a project, he would simply
- Switch to writing for another project. By the time he went back to the first one, lack of attention had made WB disappear.
If you want to be good at writing, there’s just no substitute for exercising your writing muscle. And if you want to write, worrying won’t cut it – you have to sit down, grab a pen and let your brain bleed through its tip.
***
A fan of Nick Cave recently asked how to avoid disturbing his cat when turning on his guitar amp early in the morning.
Nick Cave’s reply: “Man up, dude, who pays the fucking rent?”
In your case, who’s holding the coughing pen?
The key word here is “who”…
