3 strategies To Kiss Writer's Block Good-bye

When I was in grad school, my thesis adviser was an amazing woman.  She could make me feel giddy with pride over feedback of a single word, or, also with a single word, make every fiber of my being want to hide in shame.  She was demanding;  every week I had to, in addition to my regular studies and any other obligations I might have, turn in to her a packet of writing that she would consider worthy of a week's effort.  She brooked no bullshit - I recall once laboring for hours over a research and study plan, which she glanced through, laughed delightedly, and said, handing it back to me.  "What total bullshit.  Start again."  She was also the most supportive and compassionate mentor/teacher/adviser I've ever had the privilege to work with.  She knew that I was fighting to keep focus on my work with a houseful of children, two jobs, and limited resources.  She believed in me, and never let me forget it.  We lost touch after I graduated, and I have missed her greatly.

Starting out your writing life with someone like that is both a blessing and a curse.   On those days when I'm convinced that everything I'm writing is crap, I can remember her face when reading a short story I submitted to her in one of my weekly packets, kicked back in her office, surrounded by books written by masters, she holds the papers, reading quietly, her face soft, until she finally sets it in her lap, looks at me, and breathes out a single word:  "Lovely."   Those moments can hold me up in the darkest of my self-doubts.  On the other hand, when the long days of working alone on a manuscript pile up, and no one is offering encouragement, when for whatever reason and in whatever circumstances you do not feel supported by people who you really think should be supporting you, those days stand in stark contrast to the days when your mentor was right there; reliable, constant, honest.

We all have those days.  (That's my firm belief - if you have never experienced those days of self doubt or sense of isolation, please don't tell me - I don't want to know you).  Mostly we just soldier on, suffer through, with a not-so-healthy helping of self-pity.

We call it a slump, we call it writer’s block, we read endless tips and tricks, articles and books about how to conquer it.  I would say - DON’T.  Don’t try to conquer it, don’t try to make it go away, don’t think of it as something to vanquish.  Think of it as something to use.  

1.  Look into the heart of it.  Face it.  Immerse in it.   If you’re experiencing what we would normally call “writer’s block” - you sit down to write and the words won’t come, then STOP.  Think about that.  Where were you before?  I have found that, when this hits me, it is often because I have lost a sense of the purpose of what I’m writing.  There is something called “The Steinbeck Statement” - John Steinbeck is said to have, each time he began a work, written a one-sentence statement of what he wanted the reader to be thinking or feeling when they finished his story, put it on the wall above his writing desk, and looked at it every day before he began writing, to keep his focus clear.  Your heart knows when you are moving away from
   
   what your purpose is.  You know why you are writing this story, or that novel, or this poem.  Forget what the market says - forget what others around you are doing or promoting - do whatever it takes to rediscover and re-focus on your purpose for this story.  I have gone so far as to throw out 24 chapters to return to a point where my purpose was clear, and, once, even quit a writing group filled with people I loved, to prevent myself from writing a story for them, instead of for the truth of the story.  Once you know your purpose, once you commit to it, the words will, I promise you, return.
2. Paint a fake.  When teaching writing, I often told students about the Steinbeck strategy above, and also often told them a story about Pablo Picasso.  I heard this story from a professor of mine, and am unsure of its attribution.  It is said that Picasso once attended a party hosted by a wealthy patron, and, accompanying him, was a young painter who had been apprenticing with him.  In circulating through the party, they came on one of Picasso’s own paintings on the wall of this wealthy patron’s home, a group of people gathered around it and exclaiming.  Someone turned to Picasso and said, “What do you think of it?”   Picasso looked at the painting, shrugged, and said, “It’s a fake,” then walked away.  His young companion scooted after him in shock.  “Pablo,” he said, “Why did you say that?  You painted that painting, I watched you paint
   
   that!  Why would you say it’s a fake?”  Picasso shrugged again, took a sip of his drink, and said, “Sometimes I paint fakes.”   Some instances of “writer’s block” have more to do with lack of confidence in what you’re doing.  Sometimes you are working on a story simply because the details, the plot, or a character are so strong in your mind that they won’t leave you alone, even though you have other things, that you think are more central to your purpose, that you’d like to write.  You have choices - you can try to push them out of your head, box up everything or burn all those pages, and hope that all of this will push those insistent pages out of your mind.  Or you can paint a fake - write the insistent story or character until it stops pounding at your brain, and then move on.  Who knows?  Maybe “the fake” will turn out to be the story your subconscious needs to write, more central to your writer’s purpose than you thought.

3) Get over yourself.  The self-doubt that often underlies much writer’s block comes from

unfair comparisons.  Others around you are getting published and you are not.  Or, you are published, but others are getting more positive reviews than you are.  Or, you’re getting positive reviews, but people around you seem to respect other writers more than you.  

Fine.  No problem.

Others are succeeding - that should be a cause for celebration, not a reason for becoming disheartened.  But, we’re human, we feel slighted easily, especially when the work isn’t going well and we’re feeling vulnerable.  

It can be hard (some would say impossible, but I don’t buy that) at those times to remember that all those folks around you who are being lauded for their work (when you feel like a bucket of proverbial crap) had their months and years and days of struggle and doubt and vulnerability, and, here’s the thing:  they survived it.  So can you.

So, while “get over yourself” sounds harsh, it’s really about remembering that you are who you are, you write what you write, and it has absolutely nothing to do with what anyone else has done or accomplished. Celebrate them - then go home, sit at your desk, and celebrate your own self, your own work.

And, perhaps, remember that, when you are down, when it isn’t working, it might just help to invite a fellow writer out for a beer or a coffee, sit together, laugh at and with each other, and just be two humans, both trying to do your best work.