I don’t get writer’s block. In fact, I don’t even believe it’s a thing. That is, it doesn’t really exist in the form people commonly think of it. There is no period where a writer can’t write. This simply doesn’t happen. Even if a writer isn’t able to start or continue a book or a story, he can always sit down and start writing a grocery list or a nursery rhyme and somewhere along the way he will start to make up silly fictitious items of dubious usefulness or lyrics full of filthy innuendo. Sure, none of this might directly contribute to any works in progress, but it’s still writing. It’s still an act of creation. It exercises the muscles critical to a writer’s occupation.
It’s the writer’s block and tackle. The exercise of writing is way more important than the measuring of progress toward completing a work. A work will be completed. A work must be completed. But along the way, the writer will no doubt encounter tough periods where no idea seems good enough to set to paper and everything she wants to communicate seems trivial and banal.
Be not discouraged! Discouragement leads to hopelessness. Hopelessness leads to fear. Fear is the little death.
I have two short stories I have been shopping to various publications and neither of them have yet found a home. On the surface, this is something I expected. In fact, since they are my first stories to ever send out for publication (not counting some small work done many ages ago when I was but an adolescent Tone of Voice) I am not optimistic that they’ll find a home in any major market. I’m sure I could get them published somewhere, but it might be a no-pay deal, in which case I might just publish them here. I’m fine with that… on the surface.
But I’ve noticed something as the rejections pile up. Even though I have several dozens of ideas for new stories, I am not happy at all with any of them. None of them seem interesting enough to warrant even starting. I’ve outlined a couple of them and I can see how each can be made into a complete story, but I can’t find any excitement about writing them in earnest. And if I’m not interested in writing them, it’s hard for me to imagine anyone would be interested in reading them.
But lately I’ve been wondering if this is a result of facing the rejections. I don’t feel the pain of rejection on the surface, but maybe I’m feeling it somewhere just below. Maybe I’m second guessing myself too much. It’s the closest I’ve ever come to experiencing that mythical curse called writer’s block, aside from the long period of my life when I didn’t write at all, but that was only because I wasn’t a writer, so it doesn’t count.
But the counter to writer’s block is the exercise of writing itself. Can’t write what you want to write? Write something else. For now, I can’t find good story ideas to crank out the two more short stories I want to get done this year, but I can continue to write Grant Scotland novels. I’m not saying I don’t want to write about Grant, it’s just that I want to get other projects going. But if I may be in a minor crisis of confidence on the short story front, I can revisit Grant’s world and make progress on book five. And in the writing process, I find I can still put words together, make myself laugh and even excite myself about new possibilities and the resolution to old mysteries.
Grant Scotland is my block and tackle. When the work of writing gets too tough, he’s there to help me do the heavy lifting of putting words on e-paper. I know I can sit down and write about him and his world when I can’t do anything else. So, if you’re ever in a corner where you can’t find something to write about, then simply write about something. Jot down your grocery list that would only make sense to someone from a parallel dimension. Scribe new lyrics to “Duck, Duck, Goose” that would make a sailor blush. Invent a recipe for chicken cacciatore that might, under the right alignment of planets, summon a host of faceless demons hungry for new faces.
Point is, find your block and tackle. Write whatever you need to write in order to keep writing. Hell, you could even write a blog post about it.
Don’t go looking for your muse! Go down to Ye Olde Word Smithy and pound out some prose.
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