The best way I’ve learned to cope with and overcome writer’s block is to write about it. (I guess, in that case, it’s a selective form of writer’s block.) I need to get this off my chest in order to shift my focus back to blog posts of real substance and my book. Please, bear with me.
I don’t know why it’s sometimes tremendously taxing to write. I go through months of effortless outpourings of ideas. Then, like a drought, I’m stuck. I’m unable to harvest my creativity.
It’s not like I don’t have ideas. It’s not like I’m lacking inspiration. That’s the most frustrating part: the inability to properly transcribe the contents of my imagination. And what’s more, my fantasies are usually fleeting and once they’re gone, they’re gone.
So, writer’s block is a type of grief. It’s not grief over the loss of words but over the loss of ideas. Yet, as in life, I must process my emotions. I must go through various stages of grief.
First, there’s denial: I sit down and start to write the biggest load of bull-sh*t as if nothing is wrong. “Ah, I love writing. Look how fun it is,” I pronounce gleefully.
Then, there’s anger: I see that every word is absolute poop and become enraged. In my bitterness, I shout, “Go die alone in a hole,” to my writer’s block. On occasion, I even mutter a curse word or two (as depicted in this post’s title).
After my temper tantrum is when I reach rock bottom. At this point, my best ideas seem to be slipping out of reach. I type fiendishly. I rack my brain, desperate for the right words. It’s no use. My fingers freeze. I say, “I’ll never write again,” with my characteristic stubbornness.
Eventually, my penman’s pity party comes to an end because I realize that there’s nothing else to do but move the f*ck on. Besides, there are many more ideas that I need to put on paper and there’s no use dwelling in the past.
So, this week, I challenge you to let go of an idea. When you have an intriguing thought, write it down and then, once it’s on paper, throw it out. And repeat. After you do that 38 times, scream really loud for 16 seconds. That’s what writer’s block is like.