Hitting the Wall: Remedies for Writers Block

To tell the truth, this hasn’t happened to me in so long I’ve forgotten that I’m just as susceptible to writer’s block as anyone else. In fact, I didn’t even notice that I had come to a complete standstill — writing-wise — until someone asked me if I had “retired.” Well, in truth, writer’s block is like retirement, only with guilt. Lots of guilt, especially when this is how you earn your living. What to do? Here are some things I have tried and will now pass along to you, just in case you ever need them.

1. Clean up your office, top to bottom. File or pitch every piece of paper. Use Windex or Mr. Clean or Pledge on all surfaces. Vacuum or sweep or wash and wax the floor. Wash your keyboard. OK. Your universe is clean. Now, you can get to work.

2. No, not yet? The next trick is to remove distractions, which include all the things you have to do that are keeping you from doing what your really have to do, which is write. If it’s paying bills, pay them. If it’s laundry, do it all. If it’s calling your mother or designing a flyer or checking every piece of e-mail, get it all out of the way. After all, who can work with a mind that looks like a messy to-do list?

3. Still not ready? Acknowledge it, accept it, forget it. Unplug the computer. Take at least 24 hours off. Go for a walk or a bike ride. Take a nap. Take a bath. Meditate. Go to a movie. Read a trashy novel. Call your best friend. Work out. Go dancing. Eat ice cream or whatever you consider really sinful. But do not think about work.

4. Refreshed and ready to go yet? No? Enough of this nonsense. It’s time to get tough with yourself. This isn't a game, my friend; this is what you do. You’re a pro. You don’t wait for inspiration; you do what has to be done, when it has to be done. So, as the saying goes, just do it. Put on your most comfortable writing clothes; fix yourself a cup of coffee; turn off the phone; flex your fingers; and put them on the keys.

5. Now, write.

To Write or Not to Write?

I’m propped up in bed with my computer on my lap. This is my favorite writing spot, even though my office is only about six feet away. I am ready to go, eager to get started on the morning’s project. Unfortunately, my mind is not. It seems to be unwilling to focus. What is the project? it asks, without enthusiasm. No part of me is able to remember what I was going to do. Other essential contributors check out, as well. My eyelids suddenly feel heavy. My back rebels against sagging pillow behind me. I look down and my fingers are on the wrong keys. Apparently, I am in the midst of a mutiny.

OK. I won’t write; I’ll read. I click on Safari to take me The Huffington Post. It refuses. My wireless connection doesn’t like this room and fights with me every time I walk two feet from my office. I could try to check my e-mail, but that feels daunting at the moment. Besides, the wireless probably won’t let me. So, now what?

I’m about to panic. My mental to-do list is as long as my arm, if only I could bring it to the surface. I start to type — anything — just to get started. My hands are in full rebellion now. Every other word is inside out. The last straw is mush brain, more officially known as “fibro fog.” I stare at the computer for a while (I have no idea how long) and face the facts. My systems have shut down. They are on strike.

Should I analyze the possible causes? Fight through this and try to write anyway? (I am trying, and believe, me, this is not going well.) Years ago, I read that the body never lies. I have had ample evidence that this is so. Mine is sure telling me the unvarnished truth. Your circuits are on overload! Cool it.”

“Do you ever have writers block?” my students ask me.

“Sure,” I say. “Everyone hits a wall every once in a while.”

“What do you do?” They want to know.

“I get up and walk away,” I tell them. And that is exactly what I am going to do.