Thursday, August 28, 2008

How to cope with Writer's Block


In my previous post, I mentioned cause and effect and stated that the cause of writer's block is emotional. This assumption is rooted in experience.

However, you might remove the emotional blockage by writing about what triggered the feelings. You might pen an essay, or a blog post, or write a short story allowing your protagonist to shoulder the emotional burden you feel but cannot release.

On the other hand, there is nothing wrong with taking a break from writing. If you truly love the craft, you'll suddenly feel the need and resume pounding the keys in the middle of the night or whenever.


The effect of writer's block should be a DUH Moment. Duh, I'm not writing. Duh, the monitor is blank, and the cursor is torturing me. The block is causing me to desire to do horrible things to the keyboard, or the goddamn mouse (always did hate those things; I'd like to meet the inventor in a dark alley).

Oh, look, writer's block unblocked long enough to blast out a plot, albeit weak, but it has possibilities. Hmm, maybe there is hope.

Perhaps, just maybe, boredom caused your writer's block. Same cause and effect, but needs a different solution, I think.

The solution to the pervious paragraph: Write about a subject you never thought you would find interesting.

The only solution that ever worked for me was simply this: I wrote whatever came off my fingertips as they bled self-pity on the keyboard. What do I mean? Write! Write anything. Write about writer's block, but put words out where you can read them aloud when you finish.

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More plot freebees:

Our male Siamese woke at five in the morning growing, fur puffed out, tail twitching as loud footsteps slammed up the front steps and a fist pounded on the front door hard enough to rattle window glass.

When her hand brushed hair off my cheek, I turned my head enough to kiss her palm. I had known her for years, but never before that moment, had either of us expressed a lover's tenderness.

She was really pissed. For the fifth time that morning, the computer locked up. She cursed every programmer and computer engineer alive today, and then slammed her fist on the center of the keyboard. The keyboard sagged and bent, jamming the Y H N B and G keys together, and the escape key flew off and disappeared between the back of the desk and the wall.
At least one of us knew it was time to escape, I thought, with a chuckle and left to refill my coffee mug.


Until next time, guys!

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