Thinking about writer's block

So the last few days I've had a bout of writer's block; I just haven't been able to write anything. It's better than having a bout of say, the flu, but when writing is something you enjoy writer's block has the potential to short-circuit all the fun. I say "potential," because while it's often the case that people (myself included) view it in a negative light, this isn't the only light in which to see it.

No joke, honest. 

As I'm finding these days, writer's block isn't just an inability to produce new work; it's also an excellent opportunity to approach the practice of writing from a new direction. This can be difficult under ordinary circumstances, but a bit easier when the ordinary way of doing things malfunctions. You're forced to find another way, which can be really uncomfortable, but can also shed a load of light on how you think and feel. On one level, I think that's what is going on here. Maybe.

My first thought when I realized I'd encountered a writer's block was to consult reference material on the matter, a bit like when you find a funny spot on your skin one day and think "well that's strange, let's see if I can find it on the Internet." 

In other words, my first thought was to assume that writer's block was a kind of illness, or if not quite an illness, then at least a curiosity that needed to go. I'm a writer after all, and what is a writer who can't write? Well, blocked, that's obvious, but what to do about it is anything but. Is it something that needs curing, or is there another way? I'd like to think there is.

My second thought when I realized I had writer's block was to read more. After all, books and online news are both major sources of inspiration for the ideas about which I usually write. So if the writing process is malfunctioning, it must be due to a dearth of material. The logic seemed sound, so I went about reading more. 

I did this rather aggressively for about five days, all the way up until yesterday. Full of many hundreds of pages of new reading, I sat down at the computer that morning to have a go at whatever came to mind. It was then that a most extraordinary thing happened. Can you guess? 

In a single word, "nothing." 

Would you believe it? After days of intense reading and thinking, the moment I sat down to make sense of it all absolutely nothing came out. If anything, the condition had worsened, since the moment I started writing a scrap of any idea my mind immediately rejected it.  "Bah, what drivel!" my inner voice decried, "everything you write is trash! You're nothing compared to those Pulitzer-winners!" 

As you might imagine, this episode was a bit disheartening. Perhaps it's unhealthy to measure things you write against prize-winning authors, but it can be hard to avoid if you've been reading award-winning books continuously for five days. The sheer breadth of the research, the beauty of the prose, and the quality of the author's erudition make it difficult for me to look on anything I write as good by comparison. It's a bit like going to see and hear the Philadelphia Orchestra one afternoon, then going back to school to perform with your all-volunteer wind ensemble that night. Your school group might have the performance of their lives, but how shall you notice when your mind keeps comparing it to the professional performance from the afternoon? 

It can be a real pickle, but sometimes when life gives you pickles...make a burger?

My third thought concerning writer's block, after trying out my first two, was, in a manner of speaking, to do just that; I made a burger. I decided to take my writer's block and use it (or eat it, if the metaphor is any good). 

At first I was baffled how this might be done, because up to now I'd considered writer's block an impediment to creative expression.  If anything, it was the opposite of creativity, because it left an empty page at the end of the day rather than a full, cogently-argued, and grammatically-immaculate one  (this being of course only an ideal, since my writing is rarely polished). 

The real "breakthrough," if it might be called that, occurred when I decided to write a post describing the course of my writer's block (the very post you now read, what fun!). Sometimes when deducing the cause of a running injury, it helps to trace the course of one's training back a ways to determine the factors involved. Assuming writer's block was like an injury, I tried the same approach. And I'm beginning to think that it might have worked.

It wasn't because I'd found a root cause, or nexus of causes, to the problem. Rather, I suspect that the experience of thinking about my thought-process led me to view writing in a new and unique light, and thereby generated a more relaxed approach to the art. It also led me to question and find wanting such claims as "writer's block is precisely like an illness" and "writer's block is caused by a dearth of new material." In short, the things I thought I knew about how I write proved less than perfectly accurate. They weren't totally false mind you, but they didn't tell the whole story either. It was thanks to my latest bout of writer's block that this more nuanced realization came to mind. 

Writing can be both fulfilling and maddening, or so I've come to think. When it becomes a big part of your life, writer's block acts like an illness or an injury, in that it keeps you from doing a thing you enjoy. But just as with getting sick or getting injured, there are multiple ways of appraising your lot, and sometimes a good attitude can make all difference. Something to consider perhaps.

Happy Friday, friends :)