About six months ago I stopped writing.
Well, not quite true. You see, I’d been working on a project and hit a wall. I’d made some big mistakes, stylistically, and about half way through the first draft those mistakes had caught up with me and clamped down hard on my work. Going forward meant starting again.
Ouch.
Every time I looked at the project, I felt like a ghost being chased by a roided up Pacman. The mistake was too much and my buzz, the feeling of riding high on a wave of successful experimentation, was gone - because that experimentation was not successful. So I filed it away for a day I’d feel better, when I knew how I wanted to proceed, and I went on with other things. I worked on some other projects, wrote some short stories, revised another manuscript I’ve been sitting on, and did my best to ignore this malformed aborted manuscript hanging over me and saying “You know, I’m actually pretty good if you’d JUST FIX ME ALREADY.”
The stress got to me. I felt stifled and trapped and I decided I needed a break. So I put away my fiction writer hat and went to one of my great loves: role playing games. I started reading a lot of role playing game books, some RPG design forums, and I started experimenting with hacking and homebrewing some games I like. Then I went on to designing my own system. A couple of them, in fact. And then I decided enough was enough. Holiday was over. Time to work. And I sat at my desk and looked up and saw the pointy end of that bastard manuscript and said, “Noooooope” and went back to games.
And so, six months ago, I kind of just went on an indefinite hiatus from writing books, which is a weird thing for a small time indie author with lots of ambition and not much renown to do. Which is why I decided to come back.
And I sat under that fucking failure of an experiment again and I said “This time for sure!” like an optimistic and determined moose about to reach into his top hat again to the chagrin of his friends.
And I began to revise. I grit my teeth, I rebuked myself for crappy work, and I dug through the work I’d done and I fixed it. And then I finished fixing it and I kept going. And over the next three days I cranked out about 15,000 words. Averaging 5k a day is good for me at any time. At my best I can do 10k a day but it’s never sustainable. If I’d written 5k a day, I could have written Sorceress’ Blood in under a week. That’s the kind of mad feverish no-fucks-given writing I did to knock out the first version of Summer’s end in a long weekend. Before I knew it, I hadn’t just fixed that broken, half-written manuscript, I’d completed it and started a new one.
And then I got to reflecting on what this experience had taught me. There’s no point in fucking up if you don’t learn from it. And I did. And it gave me some thoughts on that legendary bugbear that is writer’s block.
I’ve been critical of writer’s block in the past. Not of writers who are blocked, but of the very idea of writer’s block. I haven’t changed my mind. Writer’s block isn’t real. Everybody gets burnt out, everybody struggles, everybody feels their sweet syrupy strawberry flavoured lychee scented creative juices turn hard and crusty and the whole process starts to resemble pulling your own teeth. But that’s not unique to writers. Everybody has those struggles. To call that experience for writers “writer’s block” is to dignify it with a uniqueness and mythical nature it does not deserve. And to hear writers talk, the concept of writer’s block has become mythical. It has become a spectre that haunts us all and, so I’ve been told, keeps writers from putting words on the page for years at a time.
So, as I’ve said, get clear of this notion that there’s some special writers-only monster under our beds. Take that idea and kick its unwanted arse clear our of your life.
And then sit down and let’s talk about something more practical. Here’s how I learned to write again after faffing about for way too long.
1. It’s okay to take a break. Like, don’t spend the better part of a year hiding from your work like I did. That was stupid. But you can just take it easy and de-stress and do something you like. While I was hiding from my obligations, I took up drawing again and it let me be creative without the pressure I feel from doing this whole author thing. I don’t need to be good when I draw because I’m only doing it for myself, not for an external audience. So if you do need to walk away and do something else for a while, maybe pick up a hobby, just do it. Clear your mind, dude.
2. Eventually you have to write and you’ve got to make that your goal. There’s no way to trick yourself into creating words without sitting down and punching keys or pressing the pen to paper. You’re not going to find the hidden valley of the magic word fungus, eat of the fruit, and watch as a completed first draft springs from your ear. Don’t approach this problem as slaying the mythical beast, approach it as bringing yourself back to the point where you can just write.
And, at the end of the day, writing isn’t actually that fucking hard. I’m here making a big deal out of not doing it for so long and the struggles of sitting at my computer and pushing buttons to tell elaborate lies. I’m being a big fucking drama queen because it feels dramatic, and live I’ve overcome something but let’s all take a moment to ground ourselves on the fact that we’re literally just pushing buttons. Be clear about what your goal is and know that it is something you can accomplish. You will accomplish it.
3. Don’t start by writing. I’m aware that sounds counter intuitive but for real, don’t start with new words. You’re in this situation because new words are your problem. You’re getting all clogged up with new words that you can’t quite recognise. So begin with old words. If, like me, you had something waiting for you that demanded editing, begin by doing an editing pass on what you have. Or start with an old work and start another edit of that (but, seriously, don’t do this to something published. It will drive you to a whole new level of fucking mad). Hell, grab a book from your bookshelf, begin transcribing it and, as you go, edit what you’re reading. How would you improve it? How can you rephrase it to read better to you? How would you write this dialogue to fit your characters, or sound more natural in your mind? This is basically using a writing prompt and is a writer’s tool as old as Moses. Make it easy on yourself and start with the words in front of you.
4. Be passionate. Love what you’re writing. You are the first audience for your work and if you don’t love writing it, if you don’t love (or love to hate) the characters, if you aren’t interested in the story, and if you don’t love it when you read over it and revise in spite of its many flaws you’re now fixing, why would you expect somebody else to love it? What will you do for motivation when the fires of inspiration cool and leave you with just your regular levels of writing enthusiasm? If you’re not in love with your work and doing the work, maybe you need to say goodbye to this project. This is also why you should pick a book you enjoy if you’re starting with somebody else’s work. Turn that exercise of refining into your own glorious fan fiction in which Harry Dresden gives up magic, learns Tae Kwon Do, and becomes the sidekick to Lady Legasus. Love your art enough to want to share that love.
5. Start writing new words. Hey, guess what, bucko? I tricked you. YOU WERE WRITING THE WHOLE TIME. Editing is writing. It’s fixing words, it’s creating blanks and then filling them in, and it’s creative. And now that those creative juices are flowing and you’re putting words on the page, you’re writing again. The fires of passion are burning, words are flowing, the story is there to be written. So write it. You’re already there. The fires in the word factory are burning. Just keep going.
And that, in brief, is the road I took back into writing. And this isn’t just a “5 Easy Tips To Beat Writer’s Block” because there’s a lot of reasons not to write beyond struggling with your creativity. But no matter the reason you stop, the longer that hiatus stretches out, the harder it is to start again. Anybody who has found themselves in the zone, with the words pouring out of them and onto the page, knows that writing is like rolling a cartoon snowball down a hill. Momentum is good for it and creation compounds. The hardest part is getting started again. You’ve got to get to the top of the hill before you start rolling.
And, of course, it would be dishonest for me to say that this is all there is to writing, let alone writing well, or that it’s the only way of overcoming a block, but it’s enough for one rambling reflection on my life as a writer distilled into some, hopefully, helpful insights into the creative process.
