I haven’t been writing a lot lately.
That’s sort of an understatement. I really haven’t been writing at all. On the one hand, it could be I’m suffering from writer’s block. For the most part, this is a fictitious condition, or so the psychologists would have us believe. Of course, they haven’t had to write anything since their PhD theses and God knows no one wants to read those.
It’s probably difficult to get sympathy. Kurt Vonnegut once famously said: “Who is more to be pitied, a writer bound and gagged by policemen or one living in perfect freedom who has nothing more to say?” I am neither bound nor gagged by policemen and while the freedom in which I live is less than perfect, I don’t yet feel I have nothing more to say.
The fact of the matter is that like anything else, I’m sure, the longer one stays away from a thing, the harder it is to get back to the thing. Take school – with which I have a fairly significant amount of experience. Skip one class and going back doesn’t seem so tough. Skip five classes and the thought of going back and catching up on all that has been missed seems so daunting that continuing to skip further seems preferable, even though it’s clear the longer absences are going to make the eventual return that much more difficult to face.
Writing, I find, can be like that.
And to be sure, writer’s block is mostly just a fear of re-starting that which I walked away from some time ago. The blank page, the blinking cursor, the time alone all become these ominous demons to be slain before productivity returns. And it’s amazing the list of reasons one can concoct to legitimize absence from the writing. Here are some of my current ones:
- I haven’t purchased an iPad.
- my office is too messy/crowded/loud/quiet
- I’m busy planning the release party of my new book
- I haven’t finished writing my 3 x 5 index cards of the story
- the cork bulletin board in the basement that I want to bring up to the office on which to organize the 3 x 5 cards has a spider behind it. It’s a dead spider but it’s really large and it kind of freaks me out. I thought of sending my 7 year old daughter to get the board and feign ignorance about the spider when she sees it and screams.
- I’m a horrible father.
On their own, none of these items ought to prevent progress on the next book. I even started watching the West Wing again for inspiration. But focussing on Aaron Sorkin’s writing could only serve to make me feel incapable and thus joins the list above.
Julia Cameron claims to have a sure fire method for releasing me from writer’s block and to be sure, I have tried her program before and I have had some success. On the other hand, it involves writing three pages a day of basically journaling, which seems to me to be taking up the precious little time available for writing and thus belongs on the list above.
Still, I’m not ready to give up and I’m pseudo-publicly committing to increasing the output so feel free to hold me accountable. If you read this (and who would?) feel free to nag me. If you bump into me on the street or the Apple Store, remind me of my commitment.
Progress reports to follow.
