We’ve all been there. That research paper or ten pages of fiction or proposal or whatever, are due in twelve hours. The clock’s ticking away – it’s actually a digital clock that ticks, you make a mental note to throw it out and get a new one as soon as possible. The cat or dog needs to be scratched or petted or walked or fed and you can’t even remember getting a cat – maybe it’s your roommate’s? The light bulb burns out and you replace it quickly, proud of yourself for the efficiency you displayed in dealing with the burnt-out bulb, but then you remember you were going to switch to fluorescent bulbs – you know, save the world and all that. Before you can get your shoes on to hop down to the corner hardware store for new bulbs, you realize you’re hungry. No biggie. A quick stop at the greasy spoon on the other corner, chili dog and maybe a beer (screw it, right?) then back up stairs to write that proposal, short story or article. But shit, you’ve locked yourself out, and that cat is the only one home…
You get the idea. None of that would happen if you hadn’t had writer’s block to begin with, right? Well, maybe, but you, as a writer, have to sit down and unblock the block yourself. There’s no over-the-counter brain enema for us creative types. We don’t have the luxury of mood if we want to get paid for our words. So, what’s the first step?
Breaking the block
Step 1. Wear a helmet
Life’s hard, fellow writer. You know that. You remember all those classes in college with your burnt out professors telling you you’ll never make a dime as a writer. You know that from the looks you get every time you tell someone you’re a writer. Best Buy credit apps don’t register “writer” very well. Freelance novelist gets about the same result. So you’ve got to toughen up. Cast a stoneskin and write. Don’t worry about not writing. Just, write.
Step 2. Wear a helmet (literally)
Sounds a little queer, but a writing ritual helps. If you’ve got a favorite outfit to write in, make sure it’s clean and pressed and comfy for you before you’re deadline. I wear a cowboy hat or a WWII helmet, depending on what I’m writing. Right now, I’m sporting a beard of six-days, my black cowboy hat and silver sunglasses. The writing outfit tells everyone two things: You’re busy writing and that you’re a little un-balanced – both say “Don’t bother me.”
Step 3. Feed the needs
When you’re blocking (that’s the professional term), you’re going to come up with any reason at all to not sit in front of your machine and write. So, eliminate the excuses. Hungry? Order a pizza. While you wait, see if you can’t hack out a page. Thirsty? Compose the next sentence while you run for a coke. Tired? Coffee. Not $tarbucks. Just boil up some coffee and bring the pot in the writing room with you. Tense? Crack a beer and see if you can get in a page per can. That’s the ideal ratio. More of less than that and you have to adjust a little.
Step 4. Play a game with your inner editor
Some of my best stories have come from a manic exercise where you’re not allowed to stop typing or writing for fifteen, thirty or forty-five minutes at a stretch. Don’t hit delete. Don’t stop typing. If you’re stuck, write that you’re stuck. This stream-of-thought style creates a nightmare for your inner editor (but didn’t we all decide that dude was a jerk anyhow?) and forms a rather manic style, but, that leads us to step five.
Step 5. Read and Rewrite
Here’s something we all forget: just because we hack it out, doesn’t mean we can’t change it. If you’re doing step four, you’re going to need to re-write anyway. Or perhaps your stuck and aren’t quite brave enough to write without your self-censor, then pull up an old file. Something your wrote last year, last semester, last night, and check it out. Maybe it’s almost done and you can see an easy finish. Maybe it’ll just stir something or jar something loose and you’ll get that mental enema you’ve been waiting for. Or maybe you’ll see a directory filled with unfinished stories and the sheer guilt of it all will get you writing again.