7 Fiber-Rich Ideas for Solving Writer’s Block

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  1. Close your laptop. Wait…not yet, read this first. After you close your laptop, pick up a pen and a little notebook – the tiny kind you always got in your Christmas stocking because they were four for a dollar and came in different colors and your mom thought they were “so cute.” (You should be able to find one in that box under your bed where you threw all the gifts from your Christmas stocking that weren’t edible.) Head out to a place you’ve never been – a new coffee shop, a park bench, a bus station – anywhere you might find at least one other person. Now, make up a story about someone and write it down in your cute little notebook. Don’t worry about grammar or spelling or any of those details, just write whatever comes to mind. If anyone asks what you’re doing, quickly stuff the notebook in your pocket and say “Oh, nothing…nothing at all,” then look around nervously and run away as fast as you can. If the writing exercise doesn’t kick-start the writer-brain, the endorphin rush should.
  2. Read a chapter in a really good book. Or a really bad one. Which you choose will depend on how you’re motivated. Does a beautifully-written sentence bring you to tears? Does it compel you to find out if the author is single? Does it validate the existence of God? Choose the really good book, then float on that good feeling back to your work-in-progress. Otherwise, go with the crappy book. Because even your pet cockatoo can write better than that.
  3. Take a shower. (Or, if you’re so inclined, a bath.) Let the water wash away the mud that’s caking in your brain. Hey, you’ll be surprised how well this works. A walk in the rain works great, too, but such an opportunity is subject to the whims of God. (Unless you happen to be best pals with a super-villain who has a secret weather-control device he’s planning to use soon to take over the world. Then it’s just a matter of calling in a favor.)
  4. Re-arrange your office or workspace. You know you’ve been wanting to do this for months anyway. Get out some graph paper and sketch out the new locations for your desk, your leather recliner with built-in cup holder, your fully-stocked minibar fridge, and your brass busts of Fitzgerald, Tolkien and Sedaris. Then move those things. Remember to lift with your legs, not your back. When you sit down to write, you’ll be in a whole new office. Or you could just pick a neighbor at random and go use their computer.
  5. Pour out your angst in a letter…to yourself. Yes, you should use real stationery for this (check under the bed for that, too). In your letter, share your frustrations, complain about your inability to write a single coherent sentence, yell at yourself for being so stupid as to think you could ever be a writer. Stuff the letter in an envelope, then ask a friend to hand it to you as if it just came in the mail. Act surprised when your friend gives it to you. Say something like “I almost never get real letters anymore!” Open it. Read it. Sympathize for a moment with this poor, poor soul. Then mumble “what a whiny, pathetic fool” under your breath and go write so you don’t end up a loser like that woe-is-me letter-writer.
  6. Ride a roller coaster, preferably one with a name like “brain twister” or “heart-stopper.” No roller coaster nearby? Then just go to the nearest playground and spin on that merry-go-round until you’re dizzy-sick.
  7. And, if you’re too lazy to do anything that pulls you out of your chair, play a game of online Scrabble. Seriously, just do it. Then, when you’ve filled the board with all those seven-letter words, make up a short story that uses them all. All that letter arranging and re-arranging and word-forming and story-creating should sufficiently clear your brain blockage. Now you can go back to your work in progress.

Contest reminder: Look for this blog’s first writing contest to be announced on Friday. I’m still not going to say any more about it yet. But between now and then, tell at least some of your friends about noveldoctor.com – preferably the ones who are writers or wish they were writers. The greater the number of visitors to the blog this week, the bigger (and cooler) the contest prize.

The Mysterious Importance of Mystery

Not so many years ago, my younger son became a fascinated by videogames. Like his older brother before him, this fascination grew into a full-blown addiction for a time. But unlike his brother – who suffered through the challenges of finishing a level using the age-old technique known as “if at first you don’t succeed, stomp your feet, pout, growl, try out a new word to see if your parents notice, then try again” – my younger son was known to ask, “is there a cheat code for this?” Younger son has always been rather pragmatic; he likes order and when he comes across an obstacle, he prefers a simple, ordered solution to a complex puzzle.

On some occasions, (like when I was too busy doing Really Important Stuff to be a good parent and drop to the floor, pick up a controller and help solve the problem right then and there) I went in search of his requested code, handed it over, and returned to doing Really Important Stuff. Looking back, I now see this was a mistake (one more to add to the growing list that surely will be enumerated someday in the privacy of a therapist’s office).

Cheat codes provide a shortcut around the very purpose of a good videogame: discovery. And by handing these to my son, I cheated him out of the joy of that discovery. The other day I came across a link to an article in Wired Magazine written by J. J. Abrams. Here’s a brief excerpt:

True understanding (or skill or effort) has become bothersome—an unnecessary headache that impedes our ability to get on with our lives (and most likely skip to something else). Earning the endgame seems so yesterday, especially when we can know whatever we need to know whenever we need to know it.

– excerpt from “J. J. Abrams on the Magic of Mystery” (Wired Magazine, 17.05. Click here to read the complete article.)

The article makes some rather salient points about the damaging role the “spoiler” plays in our Internet-soaked, “I want it now” culture. Spoilers (like cheat codes) have the potential to steal the mystery from a story. People still might have flocked to see The Sixth Sense had they known the ending, but the experience would have been less.

Much less.

I was thinking about this in relation to novels. What is it that keeps a reader reading? A compelling story is important, of course. Twists and turns, tension and release, uncertainty and anticipation all urge readers to turn the page in search of “what’s next.” Generous readers will often forgive cardboard cutout characters if the the pace and action are interesting enough to warrant continued attention. But well-written characters compel the reader forward for anther reason – because we care about them. Whether good or evil, kind-hearted or hard-hearted, want to know them. We want to follow their stories to a satisfying pause. There is a tremendous opportunity for mystery-that-leads-to-discovery in well-written characters because they’re as much in the dark as we, the readers are – sometimes even moreso. It is the question of who they will become, and how they will act and react along the way, that compels us to keep reading.

A few months back I was editing a novel that had a well-structured plot and interesting enough characters, but it just didn’t grab me as a reader. As I turned the last page (okay, as I scrolled to the bottom of the screen – you caught me), all I could muster was a response that teetered on the edge of damning with faint praise, “Um…that was nice.” Something was missing.

Here’s a beautiful paradox: what was missing was “less.”

After some spirited discussion about the manuscript, the author agreed with my plan to trim back the internal dialogue and cut a few scenes that explained away too much of the story. If I might return to the videogame metaphor, I edited out the cheat codes. The result? Well, we’ll see when the book hits the shelves, but I am convinced it’s a better story simply because of those (relatively minor) edits. Readers will have to do a little more work, a little more intuitive sleuthing, perhaps, as they read – but because of this, the turning of the last page will be accompanied by a satisfied sigh instead of a shrug.

A Book, Some Editorial Advice and a Picture of a Kitty & a Puppy

It’s Friday, which means absolutely nothing to a freelancer since all days end up looking the same. But for the sake of the rest of the working world, I’m going to play along. Hooray for the weekend! (For the record, I almost never use exclamation marks. This is not because F. Scott Fitzgerald once wrote of them, “An exclamation mark is like laughing at your own jokes,” but because I rarely feel all that exclamatory. So, if you see one on this blog, it’s either a sign of the apocalypse or a snide comment on the sentence that precedes it. Listen for the sound of hoofbeats. If you hear them and you’re not at a rodeo, it might just be the former.)

In order to set a trend early in this blog’s life, I’m declaring Fridays as “write a post about anything” days. This is my way of lowering expectations and providing for the likelihood that I’ll be underwhelmed by my own writing at least once a week. Which is not to say you are required to be underwhelmed as well. Feel free to be as whelmed as you like.

Friday Item Numero Uno – A Book

shameShame, by Greg Garrett. Buy it. Read it. I edited it. Okay, so this could be considered shameless self-promotion (irony noted), except for the fact that it really is a great book and I’d recommend Greg’s writing even if the closest I ever got to editing it was scrawling “best” in my autographed copy between the words “To my…” and “friend, Steve.”

Fair warning if you’re looking for a whiz-bang-shoot-em-up thriller with paranormal tendencies – that ain’t this book. Shame is the story of John Tilden, a good man wrestling with relationships and regret and the lure of oft-remembered longings that threaten to redefine the life he has come to know. Reading Greg’s prose is like canoeing on a twisting, gently flowing river – it draws you in, carries you, sometimes surprises you, but always takes you to a satisfying ending.

Friday, the Second Thing – Some Editorial Advice

Ready? This one’s profound. You sure you’re ready? Because when I say “profound,” I mean it. Okay, here goes: Don’t take every bit of editorial advice as the gospel truth. Even what I just wrote.

I’ll give you a moment to catch your breath.

There’s a lot of great advice here on the Interwebs and also in those dust-gathering paper things with pages people in one possible future will refer to as “Pre-Kindle Reading Devices.” Learn as much as you can. Soak it all in. But don’t presume that what works for one (or even a thousand) will work for you, too. For example, many writer-advisors say, “Kill adverbs now!” (Unless they speak irony, in which case they might say, “Quickly, kill all adverbs!”) Hey, it’s generally pretty good advice, but maybe your book actually is better because it has three adverbs in it. Here’s another: conventional wisdom says don’t open your novel talking about the weather. Yeah, “It was a dark and stormy night” probably won’t give that agent you’re stalking a literary orgasm. But “When I was seven years old, a tornado swept through my small town and took everything with it but me” just might.

Here’s my best advice on the whole advice thing: Study all you can, then stuff all the study materials under your desk and simply write. The hints and tips and advice that most resonated with you will begin to naturally shape your writing. And even if your writing still sucks…er…isn’t brilliant, the best time to fix it is after you’ve written your first draft, right? At that point, you can go back to learnin’ and apply what you discover to your work in progress.

But then again, don’t take what I say as the gospel truth. (See “Some Editorial Advice” above.)

Finally, Friday Item 3 – A Picture of a Kitty & a Puppy

Because some of you were disappointed that my Tuesday post included words about writing and not a picture of a kitty and a puppy, here you go. Happy “Awe, cute!”ing.

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Have a swell weekend.