
Students often ask me, “What do you do when you get writer’s block?” Unfortunately, I am an expert on the subject. I come down with a severe case of it every single time I begin a new project. And it generally unfolds something like this.
I linger in my kitchen with a second cup of coffee, stewing and stammering as I try to put off the inevitable. I complain to my husband. I make lame excuses. I blame other people: the producers for hiring me to write a screenplay or my editor for thinking that I could possibly finish another book.
And my husband, without looking up from his newspaper, will comment, “Karol, you say the same thing every single time.”
To which I reply, “I know but this time is really different. I am the wrong person to write this story. And it’s not that I don’t know where to begin, I have nothing to say. I am totally blocked. I can’t do it.”
And he, still buried in his newspaper, continues, “You will do what you always do. Drive to McDonald’s, bring home a large Diet Coke, and walk through the house without stopping. Ignore those dirty dishes in the sink and continue into the backyard. Follow the red brick path to your office. Go inside and turn on your computer. And you will do the same thing every day, until the one day when you come out of your office and announce at dinner, ‘I’ve finished the first draft’.”
I hate it when he’s right.
Writing takes an enormous amount of self-discipline and beginning a project can be daunting. Most writers I know create rituals to help them get started like writing at the same time every day, or in the same place. Or by making a cup of tea or in my case, buying a soda from Micky-D. These rituals ease us into beginning when we are resisting the work for whatever reason, real or imagined.
But if all else fails, make a deal with yourself. Set a timer and write for fifteen minutes with the solemn promise to not worry about whether or not it’s any good. Just get something down on paper or up on the computer screen. Because the only true cure for writer’s block is to stop thinking about it. Or talking about it. And start writing about it.
If you’re lucky, that fifteen minutes will turn to twenty that will turn to thirty and so on and so on and so on…until you reach “The End.”