This morning Rumpus contributor Sari Botton blogged about how she’s started writing first drafts longhand in an effort to combat a two-years-long bout of writer’s block.
“Part of the problem is how much I’ve come…to associate my laptop with social networking, and the internet in general. My brain no longer knows how to relate a story through a thrumming electronic device, even when I’ve got Freedom running.”
We thought it would be interesting to get a conversation going here about writer’s block and how to overcome it.
In the comments, tell us what might have contributed to your getting blocked, how long you were stuck, and any antidotes that helped you move past it – if you did.
34 responses
Lower your standards.
I’ve had the same problem–social networking is a bugger. I’ve wondered if a typewriter might nudge me along. Perhaps I’ve just seen one too many quaint pictures of antique typewriters on my Tumblr recently, who knows. Writing longhand can certainly be enjoyable…so long as deadlines aren’t looming.
The method that has worked best for me is nothing new. I’ve plopped myself down in a coffee shop or busy park with a journal and eavesdropped on conversations. I eventually hear something that isn’t dull or trashy and scamper off to a more quiet place.
I don’t have any handy unblocking tricks, but for avoiding online distraction, I suggest picking up a second laptop (even a used older one) to be used just for writing, and figure out how to permanently disengage the modem, then use that machine for writing. If you’re offline, using an older machine (with a slower chip, less memory etc.) won’t be hindrance, because most of the processing hogs are stuff on the Internet which you won’t be able to access anyway.
Two years ago my laptop caught a virus which completely knocked out all Internet access, which as it turns out has been great for my writing – no Facebook, no Google Reader, nothing. Just writing. I can still print from it, and transfer files via USB, but when I’m on that laptop I’m doing nothing but writing. I use a second laptop for communicating with the rest of the world when I need to.
I am also emerging from a blocked period of about two years–actually nearer three–in which I have been able to write a few shorter pieces, but have been just too scared to tackle anything bigger. I freelanced, and made my primary (small) living from writing, for almost 10 years, so this has been a real problem. It was partly caused by a neck injury which made it hard to sit still at a desk for more than a minute or two. In those circumstances all the usual ‘cures’–routine, focus, old fashioned bloody mindedness–just wither in the face of pain. The subsequent failure to complete anything makes it worse; you start to fear sitting down at the desk. Actually, when it comes down to it, my experience of being blocked is one of fear. Fear of failure, fear of success, fear of just being out there. Sari has circumvented that by writing longhand, and distancing herself from her audience, at least in the early stages, and so have I. I hesitate to suggest my period of blockage is over, because I don’t think it is quite yet, but I am writing again, using the green screen mode of Scrivener to block everything else out. I used to write in the expectation that I would be published–very little I wrote was not published–but that’s no longer true any more, and I feel better for it.
I’ve never had to deal with long term writer’s block in the traditional sense. I’ll occasionally get blocked on a particular piece I’m wanting to work on, or I’ll lose any desire to write at all, but have never found myself unable to write at all.
Recently, however, I’ve discovered the benefit of matching the medium to the message. I do a majority of my writing long hand, in spiral bound notebooks. I wrote the first draft of my first novel this way. I some writing on the computer and lately have taken to doing the majority of my electronic writing via an unconnected laptop. (It’s easy to stay unconnected when you live in such a rural area that the only broadband available is unaffordable satellite.)
But the other day, I was struggling with a story that I’d false started on before and really wanted to make a go at. I ended up pulling out an electric typewriter and finishing the first draft in a couple of hours. I think the typewriter contributed to the frantic feel I was trying to give my words. I don’t expect to turn to the typewriter very often, this is only the second time that I’ve written a story in this manner since getting my first computer a couple of decades ago, but I’ll certainly be keeping it in mind as a viable option when necessary. Next up: I’ve started a new novel on loose leaf paper because it’s going to incorporate multiple viewpoints and I want to be able to switch around the order in which they appear to give fresh perspectives on the story.
As someone who writes via keyboard all day for work, I’ve come to share Sari’s difficulties in drawing a narrative out of the glow of the screen; I likewise often find my beginnings come easier from a pen between my fingers.
In terms of writer’s block, I’ve been waking up next to it for the last couple months. I recently completed a large work and moved across the country–supposedly for fresh beginnings artistic and otherwise–but landed to find myself bereft. I’ve only recently started Really Writing again. As far as I can tell, my solution to this block (and the last one) came in three parts.
First, you forgive yourself. You say, darling, you’ve got these things up against you (in my case, a city of 8 million you’re trying to understand, a dreadful winter, the ghost of a work you were consumed by for quite some time, etc, etc) and it’s perfectly understandable you might have some difficulty; it’s more than permissible that you weep (and often).
Secondly, you accept the block and subsequently assert that if you won’t be producing any art of your own, then you’ll damn well be surrounded by the art of others. You spend as many afternoons in museums as possible and let yourself stand a little longer at the pieces that make you clutch your chest. You go back to your favorite poems and remember what it is that you loved about them initially, and realize that the conversation continues: that they mean something else now. You make a list of words you love, that you forgot–atavistic, mendacious, recumbent–and you repeat them to yourself as you fall asleep.
Third, you negotiate. You continue to write first paragraphs that won’t evolve into anything else. You write letters to friends describing your current longitude and latitude, because these are words too (and important ones). If a phrase pops into your head that seems to carry no significance, you write it down anyways, and with force. And you wait.
Can’t exactly say for every case, but writing in longhand is delicious because it is much more physical. I also use a fountain pen for writing and that raises the deliciousness quotient even more. Sometimes I will try the “poem-a-day” method (I am doing that now in April), and although it isn’t perfect, I have gotten some very interesting poems. At least there is a draft to either work on or set aside. Marks on paper!!! That’s the first step.
I just got a book called THE MIDNIGHT DISEASE about writer’s block and the brain. Haven’t read it yet, though.
I love The Rumpus. I also love Radio Lab.
I highly encourage giving this episode a listen! Just did this weekend 🙂
http://www.radiolab.org/2011/mar/08/me-myself-and-muse/
I remind myself that being a writer as no different from any other job and just do my work. (I don’t believe I’ve ever heard a welder complain of welder’s block or a bricklayer take the day off because they were suffering from bricklayer’s block.)
I like Pete’s idea, which reminds me of how CIA operatives avoid writer’s block. But because much of my writing involves history and technical data, I can’t compose a draft very well offline. So, my recipe? Brew some tea, read an outstanding chapter of the genre you’re working in, turn on music without lyrics, log out of the big blue book, and get ‘er done.
antidepressants.
I’ve had a similar problem, though it’s not social networking that makes it harder for me to write–it’s grading essays. And my solution in the past has been to find a way to divorce my laptop from the grading–I’ve written on an old laptop in some cases, and now when I grade, I hook up my laptop to a second monitor and use the second monitor as the grading screen. It’s enough to fool me into thinking I’m working on a different machine, at least for now.
For what it’s worth:
It seems like when I am at my most inflexible, I can block. It also follows
that when I am too loose, I slip easily away from the target. It is too easy
to find myself limited by those boundaries, especially when breaking free of
them becomes more critical than accomplishing something. I improvise.
I approach writing every day with the cleanest focus possible. I find that
walking helps encourage the flow of thinking, which can lead to pace. In
pace it is easy to be honest and get something done, even if the shimmer
doesn’t show up.
I let my ancient spirits decide who gets lit up by what verse. I tend to
be ritualistic. I like to thank the djinn behind the verses that shine.
Take risks. Sacrifice something. If you aren’t a afraid to stick your
head around the corner, then whatever is there probably doesn’t mean all
that much, in the end, to you. A good reminder for us all.
I write about my favorite topic….me.
This is all so helpful. Thanks, everyone. By the way, my block has many causes, but the easiest one to dismantle seems to be the connection to my laptop when I’m writing a first draft. The stuff I address in the Conversations With Writers Braver Than Me series here – mainly, the fear of hurting others – is still very much there and gnawing at me. I may have decided that there are certain things I can’t write until my parents are gone. I’m not entirely sure. But that frees me up to write the stuff that has nothing to do with them first.
Any aerobic exercise, outdoors, no matter the weather: fast walking, jogging, running or combinations of these. You may not get unblocked, but you’ll feel better which can help. Also, temporarily changing your workplace location helps.
Kristen, that podcast is brilliant. And, Eloise, I just ordered that book. Thank you.
I have stopped listening to the lie in my head that I need certain conditions in order to write, or that I need to use one particular computer. I find that having “cloud” file storage really helps. If my kids are doing homework on my laptop (my preferred machine) I can use the wonky old desktop in the spare room. If I’m in my office at work, I can use my desktop there w/out making the excuse that I didn’t lug my laptop to work.
My other problem is what Brian pointed out: the damned essays. I have started staggering due dates and “budgeting” grading (i.e. setting a goal for each day). Once I have reached that day’s allotment, I am “allowed” to write without feeling guilty or torn, even if I have 30 more papers in my bag.
The only big way for me to stop feeling blocked is to shut the hell up for a minute. Most of the time I feel blocked because I think I want ego masturbation more than I want to write.
When that happens, I like to write crappy poems and word sketches long hand to loosen myself up. I have awful handwriting and a hell of a time transcribing my own writing so I feel freer and then once I’m done I feel cleared out and able to concentrate.
I have always written in long hand first. Usually my best ideas happen on the road away from my desk. I keep sticky notes, pads, pens, everywhere.
I also highlite from books and magazines I read wonderful phrases, sentences – all help with writers’ block.
This might seem weird, but I studied flamenco dancing for seven years, and it gave me fire, fearlessness, focus, and completely transformed the rhythm of my sentences. Getting out of my head and into my body in such an intense yet controlled way changed my perspective and my writing in ways I couldn’t have anticipated.
That, and I do love my manual typewriters. The action on an Olympia SM9 is unmatched. Though if you like a more cushy, cadillac-esque responsiveness, I would go with a 1940’s royal. A manual is, to me, like playing a piano. The thingification of the words on paper is very satisfying to me. I love that with a typewriter a page is a page, a thing you can touch. And the urge to keep the sound surging, the way your body is more engaged in the writing. To me anyway.
If you don’t a typewriter, but do want a non-networking keyboard, the AlphaSmart is also good. That will dump everything you put into it into any word processing program, so no re-typing. It only has a four line window, so it’s great for continuing to stay in the present sentence, and not looking back. You can get one on ebay for like $20. They’re designed for kids so they’re incredibly light and superdurable.
I also keep at least three index cards on my person at all times.
As far as the harder thing of hurting others, I am dealing with that myself right now. My brother and father are worried that my memoir will bring them harm and recrimination. Which is possible. Which I respect. My father is already pre-emptively lying about my book. However, my faith that if I write as bravely and honestly as I can, I will dig under the defense layer and find the core, like a miner, and somehow we’ll all find some valuable nuggets. That might take some time, but maybe courage is, ultimately, contagious.
Writer’s Block.
Writer’s Block is when someone who considers themselves a Writer doesn’t have anything in particular to say.
And you know what is happening when someone who has nothing to say actually manages to not say it, despite all internal and external pressure to do otherwise? Yes, all is right with the world.
In all seriousness, there’s no such thing as Writer’s Block. There’s just people, not writing nothing.
My latest project has been a screenplay, and when I’m faced with a new and difficult scene to write, and I’m stuck, I’ll reduce it to stream of consciousness ranting. No formatting, no worries about language or punctuation or who is speaking or whether they would say that out loud or even whether it even makes any sense. Just completely vomit words on the page as slow or as fast as they pop into my head. And then I get up and I walk away from it for a while. Go for a walk, or go watch a movie. And when I come back, usually I find that there is enough raw material there in either structure or dialog that I’m unblocked enough to write the scene.
I wish I could write longhand but my handwriting muscles have atrophied so badly that it’s physically painful for me to write long enough to address an envelope, and it’s usually not very legible.
A personal formula:
a) read a favorite short story from three heroes I love to pieces (typically: Boyle, Murakami, and Salinger; some nights I throw in Maupassant or Pynchon from his collection Slow Learner).
b) read something new. (suggestions: Nam Le, George Saunders, Tea Obreht, and Kevin Brockmeier)
c) take a break. digest. (smokers smoke, joggers jog, put on some jazz and make some coffee, never TV)
d) start writing.
I’ve come to accept that there are nights where I will feel compelled to write, but won’t be able to produce anything worth saving outside of a choice simile or an inkling of a new premise. Sometimes though, the formula works for me. I know it’s probably not the process itself that helps me produce a salvageable 400-600 words on an off-night, it’s simply the act of going through the motions that opens the hidden cache tucked underneath my mental stairwell.
One of the best things I do is to work early in the morning, before my head is filled with anything besides the manuscript. Looking at email or the news is always my first mistake of the morning.
When I feel blocked, or prone to distraction, I write longhand or write on my AlphaSmart. ( http://www.neo-direct.com/intro.aspx ) The AlphaSmart is nothing but a keyboard with a little memory–an very portable electric typewriter. When you’re done writing a document, you plug it into a USB port and it loads the document into your Word file. It’s like having a typewriter again, except you can correct your work easily. (No Liquid Paper!)
Also, switching to a coffee shop or the library to work helps.
I don’t write the main story. I work on stories that won’t appear in the novel – that is, if the main characters are working on crisis X, I write a story how the main characters met for the first time, or how they discovered their love of poetry, or whatever. I find that thinking about the characters as people helps me to build my understanding, and then the story eventually re-develops.
but the key is to keep writing and thinking, even if it’s just while you’re on the bus.
For me, anyway.
Plus, I find that doing freewrites on completely non-related topics unblocks my writing flow.
When I write, whenever I get writers block, I write extremely random sentences that are as descriptive as I can make them. They don’t even have to mean anything to what your writing, they just gotta be long, drawn out, and descriptive sentences, and don’t worry about run-ons or grammar, have fun with it. (Ex. The gigantic, crimson, firetruck stormed through the red-light, barreling forward towards the towering, red-bricked church that sat on the rolling green hill.) <— just an example, they can be better, or different, that's just something I've learned to do to help me when I get stuck.
In Story, by Robert McKee, he says the cure for writer’s block is research.
Now to me, this translates as saying that writer’s block occurs when you don’t know what to write.
The cure he recommends is to go to the library and learn something–fill your head.
I’d expand that and say go to the library, to a great movie, to a foreign country, to a museum, to a science show, to a weird neighbourhood.
Just stop being a hermit (an occupational hazard for writers.) Go live life, and your creativity will re-grow itself. The problem is that you’ve emptied the well, so go fill it up again.
I have a little switch on the front of my laptop that turns on/off the wifi. Easy enough, right? I’m a child of technology, really. Although I like writing lots of things by hand and keep several paper journals, I couldn’t imagine working on my manuscript that way. I get so frustrated that my hands can’t keep up with my head. I can almost type fast enough to keep up with my stream of thought, so I could never give up using a computer to write.
The best things I’ve found for getting unstuck have been exercise, cleaning the house or switching to a different project altogether, like gardening or sewing. Often when I’m in the throes of something that exercises an entirely different aspect of my creativity, I’m suddenly hit with an solution to a problem I’m having with my story. Also, when I’m engaged in extremely mindless tasks (like running or cleaning), my mind has space to wander and solve problems.
Jazz (instrumental) helps me out, and I cue the kind to the material I’m working on. Jessica Williams, Tord Gustafson, Tin Hat Trio, etc., for poetry, and funkier stuff for fiction (usually). As others have noted above, getting outdoors is also a big help. If I do something vigorous like digging in the garden I can almost feel the kinks in the writing smooth out–the pages float through my head and alternative plot lines, phrasings, and structures sort of appear on/in them. Finally, painting in an abstract and as much as possible nonjudgmental manner loosens the word-generating part of me as well. So the painting’s shit–it’s only paint! So the poem or whatever is crap–erase, start over, repeat until there’s a line or two to build on.
Many great suggestions here. I have also found hypnosis/self-hypnosis very effective for writer’s block. If you don’t know self-hypnosis, there are lots of decent books about it. A faster and probably better approach is to have a hypnotherapist teach it to you.
Longhand kind of works for me. If I can’t think of anything to write, I just doodle.
Also, like Nana said, anti-depressants, that is, if you can’t write because you’re depressed/obsessive.
Or, take a long walk.
“Hey! Hey! Hey! There’s a puppy on fire!â€
“Yeah, sorry, I’ve been having some pretty serious Fireman’s Block.â€
I don’t even have a puppy, you say. That’s OK. Not everyone does.
But maybe you do. Maybe it’s just not on fire. In that case, all is right with the world.
What was it that Sugar said? “Write like a motherfucker when you feel like it, when you’re not distracted, when you’re inspired, when it’s easy?†Something along those lines.
Writing isn’t something that happens to you.
Every time I’m stuck, I flee. It works every time! Once I rented a cottage in a beach town in the off season for one week, so it was super inexpensive. The owners were charmed that I was a writer being arty in their home, so they discounted it further. Another time, I went to a Georgia barrier island. Being somewhere else, away from all my things, sort of trapped in no-man’s land with quiet and emptiness seems to be just the cleanse I need to make it all happen. It re-revs my engine, and when I get home, I have some momentum again.
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