I define writer’s block as the strong desire to write, but no words show up, for an extended amount of time.
I’m very lucky. I don’t get writer’s block. There have been times in my life when I haven’t written, but that bubbling up need to write, that boiling of words just under the surface, wasn’t there. I was busy with other things, happy to be distracted.
I do, however, have problems with flow sometimes.
Last night was a perfect example. I spent most of dinner writing the back story for that character who just showed up. It’s a great back story. I’m really pleased with it. I don’t know how much of it will show up in the actual novel, but it really helped inform the character, told me who he was, what he cared about, etc. (If I ever had the time and if there was demand for it there’s an entire anthology of stories about the characters that will never make it onto the page.)
However. When it came to actually continuing the chapter where this character had shown up, it was a no go. I thought about it, poked at it, but nothing.
Fortunately, I trust my process. When I am having a problem with word flow, as I have in this chapter, it generally means there’s something really wrong with the chapter. I need to figure out what that is before the words will flow again. I can’t work on anything else. It might be that the story is being told from the wrong POV, or that the scene starts at the wrong time, or that I need to write something that occurs before this scene, etc.
So of course, as soon as I turned out the light and closed my eyes, my brain helpfully informed me what was wrong. To fix it, I’ll probably need to throw out every word I’ve written so far in this scene and start from scratch. I’m much more okay with that than I used to be — I think some of it’s because I can literally tear the pages out of my notebook. When words are typed they’re heavier and harder to move. I’ll probably do most of the work while flying back to Seattle tonight. (I often spend time on planes writing. Or sleeping. One of the two.)
What about you? Do you get blocked? Or have problems with flow? What is your process when you realize “No, this is wrong.” Can you keep going? Or do you have to revise?
I have a problem, in writing the comics scripts, in moving from outline to full panel descriptions with dialog. Moving from “He meets her just under the expressway, and they talk awkwardly about the accident,” to
Panel 1
Wide shot, under the expressway. To the left of the panel we can see the Jersey shore. To the right of the panel in the extreme foreground we see Jake’s car, parked badly. In the middle of the panel Jake is walking towards Emma. Emma has her back to the reader, looking out at the expressway in the distance.
JAKE: I GOT HERE AS SOON AS I —
JAKE: OH.
EMMA: IT’S NOT LIKE IT MATTERS.
You get the idea. There’s something in the specificity of it that feels sort of trapped. Like, as long as I don’t get specific, it can still be as good as it is in my head. Once I write out the details it needs revision, and it never feels as good as the vague outline did.
I am given to understand that the solution to this is endless practice.
I completely understand what you’re getting at. I have the same feeling sometimes — that what’s in my head isn’t anywhere near as good as what actually shows up on the page.
One of the other solutions to this is faith in your process, and in being able to revise. And rewrite. And re-vision, see again. And redo it a million more times.
I usually look for the last place I felt certain all was good, 3 to 30 pages back, and then read through the bad, salvaging bits that are nice for something. Then I start over from that good spot. By then I’ve usually figured out what needs to happen. If not, I start reading the ms from the beginning…and hopefully just pick up and start writing when I get to the last word.
I’ve never had to restart from the beginning of a manuscript. (Maybe I should say *yet* ;->) But I also generally have a real good idea of where things start going wrong — it’s because the flow of words disappear. If I think back to where it started getting really hard to write, that’s where I generally find the problem. It’s figuring out how to fix things that’s often more tricky.
I can’t underestimate the importance of reading. I hear a lot of professional writers say “I am so busy writing I don’t have time to read” and I am stunned. You have to drink water to sweat; otherwise you get dehydrated.
But there are some days when there is just too much on my mind for me to quiet it down and go to that place. In that mode, though, I still try to read for about half an hour before I write. And I read what I am writing. Right now I’m writing YA so I read Diana Wynne Jones’s massive backlog as I go.
For me, the lack of flow has nothing to do with a lack of inspiration. It’s an indication that something’s wrong.
But I also think I understand what you’re saying — the continuing inflow affects the outflow. For me, it isn’t just reading, however. That’s why I take myself out on artist’s dates: go to museums, take photographs, do “bad art”. All those things that I think are essential for my artist’s soul.
I don’t read as much when I’m writing as when I’m revising. And I also have to be very careful that I am not reading too much in the same genre I’m writing in — I get too influenced. So I read a lot out of the field while I’m writing. Though those works tend to influence me as well. Right now I’m reading “Animals in Translation”.
i consider myself lucky. i’m with you. i’ve never experienced a ‘block.’ however, the lack of flow? certainly. first, i try to push on. toss down whatever, knowing full well that the evil ‘this is crap’ voice will go away by tomorrow and a polish will fix all sins. it isn’t easy. but usually that works. there are times when it doesn’t, and then i’m really, really clear that something is wrong in the plot or the characters. it’s then do as inigo does and follow vizzini’s advice. i have a small panicked conversation with my husband and then go back to the beginning. 🙂 every time this has happened it’s worked like a charm.
that’s a really long ‘me too.’ lol.
it’s interesting that you’re more comfortable ripping physical pages and that electronic text is tougher to move. for me, it’s the opposite. i can save multiple versions (and do) and that gives me confidence to cut anything any time.
For me there’s a definite difference in feeling between the “this is crap” voice and a lack of flow. I’m fairly successful at shutting up the editor’s voice. She’s much more distractable when I’ve been doing a lot of writing.
I can’t imagine talking to someone outside my head when I’m having serious flow issues with my work. It’s hard enough to bring it up here. I only do it after the issue has been solved. That, too, I think is part of my process.
I don’t know why the typed version is so much harder. But it is.
Best of luck to you!
Yeah, I’ve never had “block” even though I wish I did sometimes, so I could take a vacation. *g*
The flow problem is the same, though. If I hit a stall, it usually means something is terribly wrong with the chapter. Letting it sit and percolate will generally reveal the problem so I can tear out some pages and redo.
Seriously — I want to tell my brain, “Sleeping now! Sleeping! You know, closing the eyes and drifting off?” But sometimes it just doesn’t matter. Have to get up and write anyway.
I’m always amazed at how much my back brain can solve if I just give it time. And feed it appropriately.
I have a problem, in writing the comics scripts, in moving from outline to full panel descriptions with dialog. Moving from “He meets her just under the expressway, and they talk awkwardly about the accident,” to
Panel 1
Wide shot, under the expressway. To the left of the panel we can see the Jersey shore. To the right of the panel in the extreme foreground we see Jake’s car, parked badly. In the middle of the panel Jake is walking towards Emma. Emma has her back to the reader, looking out at the expressway in the distance.
JAKE: I GOT HERE AS SOON AS I —
JAKE: OH.
EMMA: IT’S NOT LIKE IT MATTERS.
You get the idea. There’s something in the specificity of it that feels sort of trapped. Like, as long as I don’t get specific, it can still be as good as it is in my head. Once I write out the details it needs revision, and it never feels as good as the vague outline did.
I am given to understand that the solution to this is endless practice.
I completely understand what you’re getting at. I have the same feeling sometimes — that what’s in my head isn’t anywhere near as good as what actually shows up on the page.
One of the other solutions to this is faith in your process, and in being able to revise. And rewrite. And re-vision, see again. And redo it a million more times.
I usually look for the last place I felt certain all was good, 3 to 30 pages back, and then read through the bad, salvaging bits that are nice for something. Then I start over from that good spot. By then I’ve usually figured out what needs to happen. If not, I start reading the ms from the beginning…and hopefully just pick up and start writing when I get to the last word.
I’ve never had to restart from the beginning of a manuscript. (Maybe I should say *yet* ;->) But I also generally have a real good idea of where things start going wrong — it’s because the flow of words disappear. If I think back to where it started getting really hard to write, that’s where I generally find the problem. It’s figuring out how to fix things that’s often more tricky.
I can’t underestimate the importance of reading. I hear a lot of professional writers say “I am so busy writing I don’t have time to read” and I am stunned. You have to drink water to sweat; otherwise you get dehydrated.
But there are some days when there is just too much on my mind for me to quiet it down and go to that place. In that mode, though, I still try to read for about half an hour before I write. And I read what I am writing. Right now I’m writing YA so I read Diana Wynne Jones’s massive backlog as I go.
For me, the lack of flow has nothing to do with a lack of inspiration. It’s an indication that something’s wrong.
But I also think I understand what you’re saying — the continuing inflow affects the outflow. For me, it isn’t just reading, however. That’s why I take myself out on artist’s dates: go to museums, take photographs, do “bad art”. All those things that I think are essential for my artist’s soul.
I don’t read as much when I’m writing as when I’m revising. And I also have to be very careful that I am not reading too much in the same genre I’m writing in — I get too influenced. So I read a lot out of the field while I’m writing. Though those works tend to influence me as well. Right now I’m reading “Animals in Translation”.
i consider myself lucky. i’m with you. i’ve never experienced a ‘block.’ however, the lack of flow? certainly. first, i try to push on. toss down whatever, knowing full well that the evil ‘this is crap’ voice will go away by tomorrow and a polish will fix all sins. it isn’t easy. but usually that works. there are times when it doesn’t, and then i’m really, really clear that something is wrong in the plot or the characters. it’s then do as inigo does and follow vizzini’s advice. i have a small panicked conversation with my husband and then go back to the beginning. 🙂 every time this has happened it’s worked like a charm.
that’s a really long ‘me too.’ lol.
it’s interesting that you’re more comfortable ripping physical pages and that electronic text is tougher to move. for me, it’s the opposite. i can save multiple versions (and do) and that gives me confidence to cut anything any time.
For me there’s a definite difference in feeling between the “this is crap” voice and a lack of flow. I’m fairly successful at shutting up the editor’s voice. She’s much more distractable when I’ve been doing a lot of writing.
I can’t imagine talking to someone outside my head when I’m having serious flow issues with my work. It’s hard enough to bring it up here. I only do it after the issue has been solved. That, too, I think is part of my process.
I don’t know why the typed version is so much harder. But it is.
Best of luck to you!
Yeah, I’ve never had “block” even though I wish I did sometimes, so I could take a vacation. *g*
The flow problem is the same, though. If I hit a stall, it usually means something is terribly wrong with the chapter. Letting it sit and percolate will generally reveal the problem so I can tear out some pages and redo.
Seriously — I want to tell my brain, “Sleeping now! Sleeping! You know, closing the eyes and drifting off?” But sometimes it just doesn’t matter. Have to get up and write anyway.
I’m always amazed at how much my back brain can solve if I just give it time. And feed it appropriately.