When I went to sailing school, our instructor noted that it’s not a matter of if you
get seasick, but when .
That was
about 25 years ago, and it still hasn’t happened. This after a few times in six-foot plus
confused seas (this is an actual term, which roughly equates to being in the
agitator cycle of a giant washing machine).
Now that I’ve made this boast public, it’ll likely happen the next time I get in a kayak, but I’m taking my chances.
By that logic, I’ll take another flyer. I admit
I’ve never had writer’s block. This
thought was occasioned by a novice writer who asked me how I handle such
things, including what he called “hitting the wall”, which I assume means
confronting an impassable edifice suddenly erected in front of your work in
progress and not the side of a building on Dead Man’s Curve. I had trouble answering because it’s never
happened.
My heart goes out to anyone who has
dealt with this.
As I once felt crossing
the English Channel in a storm, watching most of the passengers lined up along
the rail sharing the contents of their insides with the salt water and
torrential rain. The rest were in the loo.
A significant percentage of the
mystery writers I know are journalists.
I bet few are beset by writers block, which is probably true of former
copywriters like me. From what I
understand, editors share the same general attitude as creative directors. If you aren’t able to write what you were
supposed to write that day, they fire you.
Usually the next day.
Aside from generating colossal
amounts of stress, which by correlation supported a lively bar trade in the
neighborhoods surrounding newsrooms and ad agencies, this also focused the
mind, and instilled the kind of discipline notable in air traffic controllers
and members of the bomb squad.
Pressed by my novice friend, I did
have a few suggestions when ones productivity seems to be flagging, or when
you’re not sure what should happen next in the novel.
Getting up to go to the bathroom is the first
tactic. I wrote a lot of headlines
standing at a urinal. If you have a more
luxurious schedule, a nice walk around the block usually does the trick. If you have both the time and means, perhaps
a quick trip to Italy. Countries where
you don’t know what people are saying are excellent places to write in public,
say at a trattoria or outdoor café a la Ernest Hemingway (though go light on
the Pernod).
Reading other people’s writing
doesn’t do much for me in this context, except for a few extraordinary
stylists, like Bill Bryson, Gillian Flynn, or Amor Towels, whom I find inspirational,
despite setting insurmountably high standards.
But above all, whenever I feel the
writing at hand is stalling out, I simply switch over to another project, any
project.
I usually have about three
books going at once, at various stages of completion, and there are always
emails to old friends and short stories waiting to be written.
The best palliative for being stuck is
to just start writing. The act itself, for me, usually limbers things up
and then I'm back in business. The greatest impediment to writing is not
writing. Don't worry how it's going to come out. Just start
typing.
Another
trick with books is to write down in advance what I call "things that
could happen." These are scenes or plot features, and often twists,
or something unexpected. I can refer back to that to see if there's
anything there to latch on to.
I don't fear the blank page. In fact, I like it. It means anything
goes. Dive in! Most editors will tell you the beginnings of books
and short stories are often the weakest parts, and they're good at noting
where you should have actually started the thing. That's fine. It
just means you hadn't yet warmed up the engine.
Writing
for SleuthSayers, I have a long list of possible topics, and several opening
paragraphs. These are handy diversions, and usually result in something I
can use. Today, I thought, geez, none of this is helping.
Then it occurred to me, why not write about
not knowing what to write?

