Karen the cat hiding from her responsibilities. Photo by Renée DeVoe Mertz.
As of yesterday, I’ve finally wrapped up my recent editing projects, (mostly) recovered from my cold, and am waiting on feedback for my query and synopsis. In other words, all the things that have been keeping me from my next writing project—and this blog—are off my plate.
And yet, when I sat down last night to the work that I actually love, that I have missed and looked forward to, I completely seized up. I had no idea how to get back into my book, and instead kept banging my shins against conflicting ideas of who I want the characters to be and where I want the plot to go. Looking at my outline was like watching the worst part of a horror movie; all I wanted to do was cover my eyes and turn away. Just the idea of coming up with the most basic Visual Writer post sent walls up inside my brain.
I’m friends with enough artists and writers to know this is not an uncommon experience for creatives, and there is plenty of online click-bait that tries to tell us why this happens. According to many such articles, it’s about ego and/or fear, especially the conflicting fears of failure and success (try googling “writer’s block fear” or “writer’s block ego” if you don’t already know what I mean).
In my experience, however, these moments strike when I’ve simply been away from a project for too long. Although I’ve been *thinking* about my story daily and occasionally opened a document to jot down notes for later, I no longer have a clear entry point into the work, and currently have more questions about how to proceed than answers.
This creative cramping always takes me back to my childhood memories of being grounded until I cleaned my very messy room. Even though I knew the best way forward was simply to pick a corner and start tidying, the sheer number of tasks facing me always caused me to freeze. I could easily spend a half hour just standing silently, eyes wide in a kind of panicked meditation, until, finally, the building internal pressure pushed me into action.
Karen the cat on a pile of unfolded laundry. Photo by Renée DeVoe Mertz.
I eventually learned the best way to avoid such distress was simply to not let my room get so messy in the first place. In the same way, I know the best way to avoid writer’s block is to write (almost) daily, or at least not let more than a couple days pass before I put fingers to keyboard again. Simply doing the writing equivalent of throwing my socks in the hamper can make all the difference.
But, of course, I’ve now been putting my creative work off for a couple of months, and my metaphorical piles of clothes are stacked so high they’re in danger of toppling over and crushing me beneath their weight. It’s a situation that causes some fear, but isn’t caused by fear.
So this post is my attempt to start in one corner and start tidying. As for the rest … I guess I’m grounded until I’m done.