Treading Mud . . . Writer’s Block

Hah! Whoever said a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step should have his/her head examined. The truth is a thousand steps in lots of directions might—one day, if you’re lucky—–coalesce into a single journey. I write this from experience.

One would think that I’m at a good point this summer; for the first time in years I’ve actually got some free time on my hands. I could finish one of the many projects I have that are partially done. I could start a new novel or other project. But I keep stumbling first one way, and then another. And then I retreat . . . I’ve taken a whole lot of steps to get exactly nowhere fast.

My husband has complete faith in me. Don’t I already have ten books out and more under contract? He knows I’ll find my way. I don’t. One would think that the more writing one does, the easier it gets. I should have learned something about how to start by now. But it seems to me that every book has its own fits and starts. Each one is different. I can’t find a pattern about how to jump in and get going. It’s like I’m circling a pool and wondering where do I wade in? As my southern kin would say, I’ve been “treading mud.”

I’ve no dearth of partial projects, sketched ideas, picture book drafts, lists, character studies—–all things I could work on. And still, each morning I get up and try to find anything else to do but write! Why is it so hard? I love words. I even love working with an editor on the revision process. I just really do not like creating that first draft. It’s a bit like Michael Kanin said, “I don’t like to write, but I love to have written.”

I know the routine—–the things you’re supposed to say to help snap someone else, or yourself, out of a slump. I’m also a writing instructor. I know all the bits of wisdom (or at least a good portion of them), like looking back to the initial excitement of a piece. What was it that spurred me originally to jot these ideas down, to get this partial manuscript going? I’ve been rifling through my unfinished manuscripts and asking myself that a lot lately. I know I need some block busting technique, like timed writing everyday, or a writing buddy to help me through. I know, I know, I know . . . But it’s just not clicking.

Lately, I’ve even had dreams of going back to work. Gads! (I’m a retired librarian.) I told them to my husband. He laughed and said that’s only because any day job is easier to do than putting my rear in the chair and trying to create magic with my fingers. He’s right. A job would just be another excuse not to write.

Whenever I do a workshop and a child looks at me and says, “I don’t know what to write.” Believe me; I’m right there with him/her. The blank page is a frightening thing. (Is there a term for that fear?) Sometimes I suggest that the child just keep drawing big circles on a piece of paper over and over and over until a word pops up. I learned this method of loosening-up from an art instructor. Besides, it’s a better thing to suggest to kids than suggesting Gene fowler’s method. He’s said, “Writing is easy. All you do is sit staring at a blank sheet of paper until drops of blood form on your forehead.”

Okay, I’ve written this posting. Now I’ve gotta go face my fear or, at least, produce another bit of abstract circle art to tack up on the bulletin board above my desk with all the others. If it’s drawn in blood, come get me.

Ciao!

Shutta