Writer’s Block

How to Unclog the Well

Kim Bullock

I’d rather clean a toilet with a toothbrush than watch a cursor blink; its timing precisely matches the rhythm of a beeping alarm clock. “Time to get up,” it says. “No more words for you. Do something productive like dishes or laundry.”

Search online for the term writer’s block, and you’ll see almost two million hits, many of them suggestions for how to outsmart a wayward muse. Don’t write at your desk. Make a game of word count goals. Disable the Internet. Use brain wave apps.

These methods, while variably effective, are like taking a long stroll around the base of a mountain rather than climbing it. Until you reach the top, you won’t know if you’re facing a single mountain or the Rockies.

Obstacles often serve as warnings. Maybe your characters bore you, a beta reader’s criticism was too barbed, or you are resisting repeated advice to dig deeper. These are all signs that you should brave the mountain pass rather than stick to the valley floor.

Your true enemy is fear. It comes in many forms, all of which are detrimental to productivity.

ASK FOR HELP IF YOU NEED IT

Something’s wrong with your manuscript. A subplot you love doesn’t work, but you can’t bring down the ax. You’re unsure of your audience or which point of view to use. You suspect your story switched genres halfway through. Word count goals will only intensify the floundering.

If you can afford one, hire a developmental editor or a writing coach. Even a fifty-page critique, friendly to most budgets, can alert you to issues with pacing, POV, grammar, plot, and characterization.

Defining problem areas empowers you to solve them.

WRITE FIRST, WORRY LATER

I wrote the first draft of my work-in-progress with an audience looking over my shoulder, two of them my protagonists’ ghosts. This book was not only my great-grandparents’ love story but also a novelization of my great-grandfather’s struggles in the art world. I realized a hundred pages in that I was composing a 250,000-word birth-to-death biography that would please my aunt but never sell. Later drafts included all the family stories (to please my relatives) and a plethora of details about the Toronto art world circa 1916 (to please my art historian contacts). Oh, and there was no sex. My father wouldn’t want to imagine his grandparents getting it on.

Writing through filters is bound to cause clogs. It’s not your voice if you let Aunt Hilda tell the story.

MUSTER YOUR COURAGE

One of my worst bouts of writer’s block occurred when I had to write the death of a two-year-old. It took months to work up the fortitude to compose that scene.

“But I have a two-year-old,” I whined to the beta reader who pointed out that the prose was flat and emotionally distant. “Writing this is like killing my own child.”

“Exactly,” she said.

I poured myself a bourbon and rewrote the scene, giving the dying child my daughter’s thumb-sucking habit and well-loved blanket.

It was hell. It was also one of the best scenes I’ve written.

If a story will bring you to a dark place from which you can’t escape, set it aside until you are strong enough to dig deep. When you shy away from the scenes that cause you the most fear and pain, readers will know you are holding back and will feel cheated.

BANISH SELF-DOUBT

I spent years crippled by the compulsion to perfect each chapter before moving on. Some days I’d waste hours agonizing over a single sentence. Twice I declared the whole manuscript a steaming pile of literary excrement before diving into month-long home-improvement projects. I’d drafted other novels with ease, but those stories only served to hone my craft before I tackled the book of my heart—the story that others needed me to get right.

Perfectionism is often rooted in self-doubt. If you can’t turn off your inner editor, particularly in the drafting stage, this may be your personal demon. Now is the time to build up your confidence. Confide in your writer friends; chances are they have wrestled with the same fear. Take a writing class or inspiring workshop. Write something else—a poem, a short story, even a journal. If deadlines help you focus, set one for yourself and stay accountable to writing friends.

CONSIDER THAT REJECTION DOES NOT EQUAL FAILURE

It’s easy for writers, especially those who are unagented and unpublished, to worry about having their work judged. Well-meaning friends and family compound the issue by questioning when the book will hit shelves. If it’s never displayed prominently at Barnes & Noble, they might believe you’re a talentless hack.

The possibility of failure can paralyze creativity and discourage writers from completing a manuscript. Unfinished books can’t be submitted. If you don’t send your novel into the world, you definitely won’t be rejected and Uncle Joe won’t whisper comments about your book at the next family gathering.

Don’t let this fear silence your voice.

Rejection sucks, but it’s also a reality at every stage of the publishing game. Remember that little book called The Help? Kathryn Stockett’s bestseller was turned down sixty times before acceptance. Twenty-six publishers said no to Madeleine L’Engle’s A Wrinkle in Time. Even the one who accepted it thought it was too complicated for children and would never sell.

No one considers these authors failures.

PREPARE FOR SUCCESS

I’m in awe of successful writers. How do they write a new book every year, market their backlist, remain active on social media, blog, and raise multiple smiling children? Between errands, chores, and chauffeuring my daughters to dance class, I’m lucky if I can squeeze in two hours of writing time a day. If I cared that my house looks like a tornado zone, I’d never open my laptop.

For the unpublished writer who can barely see past the current paragraph, let alone imagine starting another novel, the amount of work it takes to sustain a career might terrify. Fear leads to doubt, and doubt poisons the muse.

To combat a fear of success, assume it will come and prepare accordingly. Befriend authors who willingly share their survival strategies. Set boundaries at home to allow for “off-duty” time dedicated solely to getting work done. Write down story ideas as they come, no matter how vague, so you have kernels to work with later.

Fear can become the proverbial elephant in the room. If you cover her with a soft blanket and use her as a chaise lounge, then she’ll never leave. Instead, strip her bare. Write down all of your fears, no matter how ridiculous they sound. Cross off all easily dismissed worries. (Most are.) For the rest, stare down the elephant by setting goals that directly challenge those fears. Write that scene that will infuriate your mother-in-law. Compose a query letter, even if the novel isn’t complete. Write a fan letter to an author you admire. Someday soon you’ll have an unobscured view, and the cursor will be too busy moving to blink.