It happens to the best of us. You’re typing away on that short story for your creative writing class, or you’re scribbling along in that beautiful leather-bound journal your grandmother gave you for Christmas, and suddenly, the ideas just stop in a thought-paralysis so intense you’re ready to fling your computer – or journal -- out the window in a fit of rage.
At least, that’s what happens when I experience writer's block.
In fact, I’m experiencing writer's block right this very second. That’s right, dear reader, it’s about to get real meta up in here because I have a deadline to meet, and when I went to start writing, I realized I had nothing. But hey, if you can’t beat the big ole W.B. -- that stands for writer's block, not Warner Brothers, just an FYI -- you might as well join it.
Okay, so, where do I begin? Well, writer's block is the worst. Like, the worst. If I had to choose between some horrible thing and writer's block, I’d choose the horrible thing. See? My writer's block is currently so bad, I can’t even think of a remotely funny metaphor with which to compare it. I’m just sitting here twiddling my thumbs, playing with my hair, and hoping you chuckle at my apparent lack of humor, anyway.
Writer's block always comes in stages. Stage one: Denial. “It’s just a sentence that isn’t flowing right,” you whisper to yourself. “Just finish it and move on.” But you can’t move on, no, because you’re at a complete loss for words and you’re facing a complete lack of ideas. “It’s just a bad day. Take a break and come back to your writing tomorrow.”
But is it really “just a bad day”? And that brings us to Stage two: Panic. Almost immediately, your whole world comes crashing down, and everything you thought you knew about yourself and your creativity is slowly melting away. You’re convinced you’ll never craft a good paragraph, again. Your ability to use commas is suddenly nonexistent. You can no longer tell the difference between a noun and a verb and an adverb. “Maybe I should’ve actually paid attention in English 101 freshman year,” you think. “Maybe then I’d be able to differentiate from the nominative and objective cases. Maybe then my thoughts wouldn’t be so utterly worthless.”
You’re hyperventilating. You’ve forgotten how to breathe, how to type, how to spell your own name. But breathe, friend, because Stage three is on its way: Indifference.
Indifference is a truly magical stage because it’s the stage when you can finally stop feeling like you’re about to vomit and just let the panic waste away. You don’t care about your writing anymore, because you don’t care about anything anymore. If you can’t effectively communicate through the written word, you must be illiterate. Better to pack it all up now, crawl into bed, and wallow until you can formulate an actual thought, again. No, but really, the indifference stage is great because it allows you to take the pressure off and relax.
Which ushers in the last stage: Acceptance. It’s OK if you temporarily cannot think of anything to write. The important thing to remember is that Writers Block is just that: Temporary. Like a Hurricane Joaquin or a kidney stone, it’ll pass, and you will one day be able to write again, I assure you.
The trick is to keep writing through the writer's block. Type fervently. Plow through the panic and the poorly constructed similes. Write utter crap, and eventually you will have something to go back and edit. And after that, you’ll have something worth writing, and after that, you’ll have worth reading.
As of right now, my current bout of writer's block hasn’t gotten any better. I did just, however, write a 600+ word essay on writer's block. And I can’t really think of an ending, so I’ll just quote my friend Meredith, who is sitting here with me: “You should say something about me, since I’m sitting right here.” Please, Meredith, I’m trying to write.
