Dissolving Writer’s Block
We’ve all faced it at one time or another. We sit down to write, hell bent on churning out pages of vivid, moving prose. Then instead of being set on fire, we feel like a dried up speck of dust. With no soul.
Writer’s block is no fun and while some assert that it’s just a palatable term for laziness, a failure of imagination or lack of true calling, I would argue that it’s more complex. Having faced it myself, I know all too well how it feels to sit down with the drive and intention to write meaningful prose, only to face the unbearable void.
But I believe writer’s block arises from misconceptions about writing and the creative process. When it comes to our work, we set up the most relentless barriers.
Here are some ways to break through:
Banish misconceptions such as:
It ought to be easier than this.
Why is this taking me so long?
Why can’t I write like so and so?
Why doesn’t everybody love everything I write?
Why can’t I publish everything I write?
Why is this so damn hard?
Writing is hard. By that I don’t mean it’s torturous and punishing, but hard in the best sense of the word, that is, the challenges it provokes bring cumulative rewards. Only by making mistakes - and lots of them - will you gain the nutrients from having worked on your story, allowing it to become its truest and finest version of itself. Once you accept that writing isn’t easy — that it requires a balance of patience and perseverance — you create the conditions that help you grow and develop.
Focus on the work, not your ego. It’s not productive to obsess about whether or not you’re talented, what people in your writers’ group might think of you, or whether or not you’ll ever publish. If you focus on what the work needs rather than on what you need from the work, you might find it becomes a whole lot easier.
Give up perfection. It doesn’t exist. Do set high standards for yourself, but don’t let unrelenting standards of perfection strangle your voice. You have to give yourself permission to write badly because it’s only through writing bad stuff that you get to the gold.
Don’t wait for the muse to arrive. You are your own muse. The trick is to show up and be receptive to the ideas, images, memories and so forth that are there swimming around you so that you can allow some of it to swim in. That’s not to say that every time you sit down to write the words will flow. Undoubtedly, there will be days when the words barely eke out. But most often, the act of writing alone awakens the muse to come out and play.
Don’t fixate on structure prematurely. Structure is the shape we give our experience and our imagination so that a reader can receive it. And while structure is important, I really believe that too much fixation on it in the early stages can impede creativity. Why? Because our best ideas come while we are writing. We don’t know what we’re going to say when we sit down to write. We need to access the voice inside us that tells us what we don’t already know.
Play. Whenever you get stuck, limber up. Play with language. Write down every word you can think of that starts with the letter K. Word cluster around an object, image or memory. Freewrite. Dive in. See where your subconscious leads you. Let go of results.
Tap into your obsessions. This is where the world of your stories resides. Who or what most perplexes you? What continues to have you in its grip? What memories refuse to let go? What are you most ashamed of? Write about the thing you’re most afraid of — the thing you wouldn’t dare tell anyone. Go ahead — write it now.
Remember, nobody has to read it.
