Chronicles of a Procrastinating Novelist Volume 2: In Which I Discuss the Cure for Writer's Bloc
This week as I was revising The Whisper of Souls (working title), I came across a scene that I just flat hated. It contained dialogue as natural as an eighties era robot, action as exciting as a napping snail, and humor as stimulating as day-old Mountain Dew. However, none of this is surprising in a draft, let alone a first, or even, as Ann Lamott calls them, sh***y first draft. What I'm driving at is that this steaming heap of a scene owes its existence to my idiosyncratic method of combating the Golem of fiction writing: Writer's Block.
So, “What is the cure for Writer’s Block,” asks the intrepid reader who made it past my pretentious post title and overlong first paragraph?
Easy answer: there isn’t one.
But I’m not a fan of easy answers. Perhaps because I believe we live in an infinitely complex and fantastic universe. Perhaps because I’m easily amused by musing. Either way, despite the lack of an easy answer, I believe that the specter at the feast whom writers call Block is conquerable depending upon one’s attitude and habits toward the writing craft.
Therefore, since this is a blog post not a tweet, allow me to backpedal and offer my humble suggestions regarding the various strategies which have helped me over the years.
Demystify the Process.
As fiction writers, we are in the business of creating worlds, characters, and images designed to transport our readers from their present reality. It's a singular privilege which holds a certain esteem in our society since most people enjoy story, even if they prefer to binge digest it on Netflix rather than binge read Kurt Vonnegut in a weekend. Unfortunately, this business of creating and its perceived importance leaves many of us prone to embellishing more than just our fiction. Even the writing process itself becomes enshrouded in an Avalonian fog of divine mystery that makes us feel special. Some of us sit around waiting on a benevolent inspiration fairy, and justify our lack of productivity. Such habits characterized my early writing career. I spent the majority of my adolescence romanticizing the idea of the reclusive artist in the attic. Jo March scribbling away by lamplight, hair akimbo beneath her cap, and fingers blacked with ink. By buying into that cliché, I bought into the idea that specific stereotypes of writing life, such as Writer’s Block, were inevitable. Judging by the sea of productivity tips on Pinterest, I'm not the only one to do so.
Buying into stereotypes is a truth universally acknowledged as “don’t.” Nevertheless, many writers fall prey to believing in the Writer's Block bogey man. But the danger of legitimizing Writer’s Block (WB) is its toxicity. WB becomes an easy excuse to avoid writing at all. Instead of seeing a blocked day as mental fatigue or moodiness, writers stall and consider this utter lack of text production justified. “It’s art!” We wail. “You can’t force it!” In any profession outside the arts, this is entirely illogical. Think about it. What teacher calls her principal saying: “Dr. Cantthinkofaname, I’m not teaching today. I’m just not feeling the right inspiration. I keep staring at my lesson plan, and I’m stuck. I’m not in the mood to deal with students. I have no idea how long this is going to last, so just schedule a sub for the next couple years, okay? I promise when inspiration hits, I’ll be so good that I’ll get Teacher of the Year for the next decade!” Yeah. Pack your bags, Teach. You’re about to be unemployed. Teachers have off days that might result in a crappy lesson plan or the urge to throttle their students, but they still teach. Similarly, I’d argue that spending a day writing, even when we’re not in the mood to do so, even if the writing is rubbish, and even if we end up deleting said rubbish, is more productive than succumbing to extended periods of Writer’s Block. "But B!" Some cry. "How can you diminish our art this way?" I acknowledge that artistic expression is its own, infitinely rewarding experience, and I admit it is a joy and privilege to participate in its creation. But by elevating art's creation to some mythical transcendence achievable only by spiritual awakening or controlled substance, Writer's Block becomes a crippling reality. Alternatively, if writers demystify the process, and adjust our view of creating art to mirror a professional work ethic, we’d be less prey to the specter’s of WB's influence.
Write an Outline
After that last paragraph, readers might say, “Well, B, I’m happy you’re little miss professional with perfect control over your moods, but my inspiration fairy doesn't wear a pants suit and wield deadlines over my head. She's a flighty, spiteful airhead who only visits when she's in a good mood.” No worries. I'm as riddled with neurosis as the next scribbler. However, I have had the advantage of a graduate program that turned writing fiction into schoolwork and provided me with tools for the days when I’m just not feeling it. By no means am I suggesting a graduate degree is necessary for becoming a successful writer. But many of the tools of the trade that I've learned all came from transplanting my craft into an academic setting. And one of the best tools a writer can employ is an outline.
I can hear the groans of pantsers* everywhere, and the sneers of my former classmates now. I used to bemoan outlines. I'd claim, “Well, now I already know what happens in the story, so why would I bother writing it?” That reasoning rested on lack of revision experience because, trust me, real revision means draft 1 and draft 6 are distant cousins with the genetic infusion of an affair or two in the family tree. What I'm saying is that for those inclined to think that outlines stifle creativity, outlines have zero impact on the final draft of a novel. They can always be changed and revised, just like the draft. They only facilitate the creation of a completed story. Oh, and one last thing. Stephen King from whom I've learned a great deal, and whose books I've thoroughly enjoyed, famously derided outlines as the "...last resort of bad writers who wish they were writing master's theses." To that I say, everyone has their own process; and if the end result is a story with a beginning, middle, and end, that writer is already ahead of the curve. And I am not a bad writer. *raspberry noise*
There are countless methods of outlining, such as the Complication, Development, Resolution process detailed in Jon Franklin's Writing for Story. I argue any of them will produce a draft more reliably than composing by the seat of one's pants, though I still say writers are free to do so. My method, I learned from a screenwriter who had to learn to conquer neruoses and be able to write for television on the fly. It's a profession which doesn't suffer artistic moodiness, and so I've found his method both logical and effective. I outline the whole story start to finish. I use single sentence scene summaries with an action verb at the root because action propels plot. Now that action verb does not have to be as dramatic as "dies" or "somersaults." It may be as dull as “realizes.” As in “Main character realizes he’s a cowardly ninny-muggins,” but this ensures something happens. Actions also lead to reactions, effects, results, consequences, retaliations, which ensures that plot moves. Example, Main Character Ninny-Muggins's realization means the book requires a scene where he acts upon said realization, i.e.: “Main Character enrolls at center for anti-ninny-muggery.” As a writer, I now have two scenes to write, and therefore two days in which I’m more likely to conquer Writer's Block.
Another benefit of such an outline is I end up with a to do list of scenes to write. Further, I don’t necessarily have to write them in chronological order, which can prevent boredom or stalling. When I wrote my first post grad school novel, Ivie, halfway through the exposition, I got sick of writing said exposition. So I popped over to one of the more interesting exciting scenes halfway through the outline and wrote that. It made for a devil of a rewrite, but I avoided stalling out because of boredom induced Writer’s Block.
Use a Word Count
This tactic is a tough one, but very necessary when maintaining momentum and making a habit of drafting. We all have days where the inspiration fairy enchants our fingers and from thence pour thousands of words, and others where she bails and we bash out scenes by smashing our head on our keyboards one word at a time. But the thing about word counts is, no matter our mood, they are a measurable, small goal. They are concrete, which makes them easier to achieve. And the more often we achieve a goal, the more likely we make that goal a habit. Like setting an alarm results in setting our biological clock, writing a set number of words a day makes it easier to just sit down and write. And now that I’ve been practicing this habit for years, I find I can periodically increase my word count. Therefore, I’ve gone from writing 1,500 words a day, to 4,000. There’s a reason NaNoWriMo sets a word count, people. They work. Stephen King keeps a word count around 2,000 words a day. I got the tactic from his memoir, On Writing. I don’t care if your count is 200 words a day and they’re complete pond scum, that’s 200 words more than the big, fat zero of succumbing to Writer’s Block.
Toggle Multiple Projects
Now that it's abundantly clear that there exist days in which the inspiration fairy drops a block on our head and camps out with a margarita while giving us the finger, it behooves writers to cultivate multiple habits to combat Writer’s Block. A fourth effective tactic involves drafting more than one story/poem/article/Facebook post at a time.
As a novelist, I understand this is easier said than done. When in full on composition mode, I get attached to my characters, and want nothing more than to spend my days getting to know, conversing with, torturing, and redeeming the cast of beings in my head. The set in my current novel, (Grahame and Theo), are likeable and put me in a good humor. Past characters have been cathartic for me, and I’ve lived out various emotional traumas through their fictional lives. But even those best case scenarios dry up. But being able to fall back upon another set of characters, or take a break and bash out a short story, or analyze my neuroses in my diary, helps keep the rust off the wheels of composition. Like any skill, writing deteriorates in the face of inactivity, and, often, so will one’s mental and emotional state. Writing, unlike many professions, tends to be integral to the author’s soul, not just a hobby at which one can make a decent living (Decent living, ha! *laughter trails off into a strangled sob*). So writing frequently, and varying that writing on days when the current project just won’t flow, is an effective tactic for staving off the specter. One of my most productive NaNoWriMos produced, not 50,000 words on a novel, but instead, 30,000 words worth of exposition divided between two separate novels and 7 short stories spread out over the remaining 20,000 words. I couldn’t stay motivated on the project I had selected, but instead I was able to spend the majority of the month stretching and learning because I was able to toggle projects.
There’s one caveat to this tactic: finish what you start. Otherwise, at the end of the day, a writer is left with dozens of promising beginnings and absolutely nothing to revise or publish. Half-drafts are useless. Journals don't publish half a story. Even flash fiction needs a beginning, middle, and end. Don’t let this one become an excuse.
Turn off WiFi.
To the Social Media generation, I’m sure this sounds like sacrilege. But I’m 30, nerdy, and bookish; therefore, I recall with fondness an era in which I was neither glued to my phone, nor obligated to fracture my attention span thanks to a never-ending sea of beeps, red notification dots, and sullen friends wondering why I didn’t return their text 10 seconds after receiving it. However, might I remind the gentle reader that the majority of text produced on this planet was written in eras in which its authors could simply sit down and write nonstop, concentration unbroken, on the task at hand? Flannery O’Connor had Lupus so severe she had to face a wall and remove all distractions for a fraction of a day in order to write. The woman wrote two novels and a massive number of short stories. So in my mind, limiting distractions by avoiding the internet is essential to a decent writing habit. But often, that’s simply not enough. When I first joined Facebook, I developed a terrible habit of clicking over to check the notifications every time I finished a paragraph. It turned my inspiration fairy into a strobe-lit psycho. My concentration fractured and left me with far messier, incoherent drafts than I’d ever written. The internet is a wonderful promotional tool, but it is a death knell to the concentration powers of a writer. Some of you out there may have better willpower than I. Congratulations, you stalwart drafters. But for the rest of us, get desperate. Do whatever you can to keep your priorities in order and combat Writer’s Block. And sometimes, that means being drastic, and turning off the WiFi.
Feel Free to Write Crap
For me, if there is an actual cure for Writer's Block, it's this step. Without it, none of the others are achievable. I come from an academic background, (so yeah, my inspiration fairy probably does wear a pants suit) and I tutor to pay my portion of the bills I share with my sister. In that realm, I encourage my students to write the best first draft they can because it requires less effort to revise a mediocre draft than a horrible one. And having a huge perfectionist streak, I can sympathize with the idea that creating something less than stellar produces genuine anxiety in people. Finally, being raised with a Puritan work ethic (work as unto the Lord), the idea of writing crap just to have something on paper carries the threat of a guilty conscience (crap will not please the Lord). However, pressure triggers Writer’s Block quicker than an alcoholic inspiration fairy chucking bricks. And so, I also tell my students to simply get words on paper, and then I can help them from there. Technically, this is true of any kind of draft. Words on paper is better than crippling anxiety and a blank page. Therefore, it is essential for a fiction writer to embrace the freedom to write absolute drivel.
Because here’s the thing about drivel. It’s not permanent. Drivel can be analyzed, corrected, deleted, and refashioned into something better. Blank, unproductive, Writer’s Block cannot. Half the time when we are feeling inspired, if we leave the writing for a day then come back to it, we cringe in horror at what we drafted anyway. But that’s okay. One can do nothing with nothing. Crap still has a shot at recycling. Think of it as fertilizer. If there are viable seeds in the fertilizer, a really healthy plant is on its way. Beauty. From crap. It's scientifically possible. I've likely borrowed this analogy, but from what or whom, I no longer remember.
So, write those scenes that have the pacing of a tortoise on Xanax. Write the ones starring characters from planet Nobody Talks Like That. Rewrite those Fifty Shades of Grey scenes you wish had been decent and then burn them (No, I haven’t done that. The lady doth NOT protest too much.). The point is, as long as you’re writing, you’re learning, improving, and making progress.
And so, readers, I return to the revision process, where I shall weed out the doodoo scenes in The Whisper of Souls, and exchange them for the entertainment that you deserve.
Thank you for reading.
B.
*pansters: writers who prefer to make up a novel as they go without an outline. By the seat of their pants, as it were. To pantsers, I say, go for it. It's just not how I roll.
Sources:
Franklin, Jon. Writing for Story: Craft Secrets of Dramatic Nonfiction by a Two-
time Pulitzer Prize Winner. New York: Plume, 1986. 109-132. Print.
King, Stephen. On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft. New York: Simon & Schuster Inc,
2000. Print.
Lamott, Ann. Bird by Bird. Anchor: 1995. New York: Anchor, 1995. 21-27. Print.
Tour of Flannery O'Connor House in Savannah, GA. I apologize, kind tour guide. I've
forgotten your name.
