About four years ago, I got laid off from the job I held for fourteen years. I had severance, so this actually turned out to be good. After about four months, though, I'd started to lose interest in everything. Especially writing.
It had been a few years since my original publisher imploded, and my then agent failed to sell Road Rules, the Leonardesque road trip caper I'd written on a dare. I had no clue what to do next, and I didn't really care. I fired my agent and decided to just give up writing.
Fast forward about six months. New job doing what I'd trained for instead of being stuck doing only what my old employer wanted me to do. I started to get an interest in writing again, but what to write. A new Nick Kepler novel? A follow-up to Road Rules? A pre-9/11 thriller I'd been toying with? None of these really captured my interest. But I wanted to write.
Finally, I just sat down and wrote the autobiography of a rock musician character a friend and I used to kick around when we were in our late teens. The beginning was interesting, reminding me of one of those Stephen King novels that flash back to the characters' childhood days. The real challenge was writing the character in the late fifties and early sixties as a kid and giving him time in Vietnam. And then one weekend, with nothing scheduled or planned, I sat down to write about his adventures in late sixties London.
When I stopped on Sunday evening that weekend, I'd written 17,000 words. Not 17,000 words total in the manuscript. 17,000 words from Friday evening all the way to Sunday.
Very rarely does anyone write that much, and I wouldn't submit these pages for any publication. Besides, I borrow liberally several historical figures, some of whom are still alive.
Since that time, the book or mock autobiography or whatever you want to call it has served to give me time writing original work when I'm between projects. It also had an interesting side benefit. I soon was rereading the next novel I wanted to submit for publication (for which I now owe an agent revisions). I started writing almost constantly.
I've always heard that one should write through writers block. That's actually the easy part. The hard part is finding what to write.
13 November 2014
My Worst Case Of Writers Block
by Jim Winter
Labels:
Jim Winter,
T.S. Hottle,
writer's block,
writing
4 comments:
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NaNoWriMo— This is the right month to encourage 17,000 weekend words!
ReplyDeleteI can understand the dysphoria setting in, Jim. I'm glad you made it out of the doldrums!
Good luck with all your writing.
ReplyDeleteI've always found that ideas for writing only come from lots of writing. The Muse has to be courted, I think.
Good piece, Jim. I'm going through something similar at the moment. I'm trying to write my through it, but I'm not thrilled with the results. Still...I carry on.
ReplyDeleteReally enjoyed your post. "Write your way through it," works, I think, in similar manner to the theory of "getting back on the horse." At least, it sometimes seems so to me -- works on my psyche the same way.
ReplyDelete--Dixon