Tag Archives: writer’s block

Does it Count?


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Does what count you may ask? Well blogging of course. Journaling. Making lists. Any kind of writing that has nothing whatsoever to do with your current project. Does this writing count as writing?

I say yes.

I often struggle with this idea, having many things to blog about or a ton of issues I want to record in my journal (which is a very rare occasion and when that does happen, I drop everything and just write the rant in my head, not really caring about the literary merit of the piece) but nothing to say in my novel. Why do you think Laura’s Letters has taken me almost eleven years to write? You might say my over active imagination, my inability to commit to one story line and emotional and psychological growth from a child to teenager to adult. I say all those are factors but not quite the reason. The reason is, there are often many, many other things  to write about when I am stuck in the writers’ block muck. Why stress about a chapter that is not working and stare at blank pages when you could write a mock-interview with one of your characters from another story? Why stress over the description you hate because every time you take a pass at it it’s absolutely horrid when you could instead record the drama of work in your diary? Why stress over a scene you can’t craft properly when you could blog about what counts as writing or not?

Funny how I bring myself back on topic. Any kind of writing counts as writing. Even if it’s bad writing. It may not be the kind of writing you want to produce for that day/week/month/whathaveyou, but you’re still vocalizing your thoughts in the form of the written word. In one way or another, your are honing your craft.

Is this an excuse to make myself feel beeter for having written nothing creative lately? Maybe, but I’m sticking to my guns. This is writing. I’m keeping the pistons in my writer’s brain well-oiled (are pistons oiled?). I’m keeping my engine running, if not at 65 mph like I do down the Taconic State Parkway, then at 30 like I do when I’m almost home. 30 doesn’t get you there fast, but it gets you there.

I’m going to start with the goals again, so goal of the week is to have the miscarriage sequence complete.  Force me to do this, friends!


Picking Up Where We Left Off


Fairfield University Graduate School of Educat...

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Didn’t mean to disappear for so long. And then I’ve been saying I’ve returned only to flit away into oblivion again. Sad. Day. I apologize. I can say that I have very good reason and I will do my darndest to not let it happen again.

Since you last heard from me, I have graduated from Fairfield University, gone to California, began working and applied for graduate school. The radio silence has been due to such ventures. Do forgive me.

On  the bright side, I have a great many things I would like to discuss with you, now  that we haven’t talked in such a long time. The first, you may notice is  the new domain. I have finally decided that since I’m getting a paycheck, it’s ok to splurge a little. http://disgruntledwriterscircle.wordpress.com is now http://missrosemary.net. YAY! Makes much more sense. The old domain still works, but I like this new one much better. And since I paid the money, it will inspire me to post more frequently than I have been.

So let’s get right back into the swing of things shall we? How is it that we writers get out of funks? I.e. what is it that inspires us to pick up the pen or open up our laptops when our words have been failing us?

Answer: who in God’s name knows? Usually what happens is I’ll be on a roll, writing every day for hours, barely pausing to eat or drink, can’t stop me come hell or high water, characters developing, sentences flowing, pages upon pages of journals filling … and then months of nothing. Weeks of no inspiration, planning out sections of the books that I have already written, revisiting portions that do not warrant revisitiation. I’ll do anything except continue to write what it is I should be writing according my schedule. This results in anger, frustration and on a few rare occasions coupled with raging hormones and chocolate chip cookie dough, tears.

I wish  there was some way for me to avoid this process but I can’t. Regrettably, I have not found the spark, place, pen or whathaveyou that brings forth writerly genius no matter where I stand in my project. And as of this very minute, my life holds too many factors that prevent me from keeping a steady writing schedule.

So what do I do? Wait out the dry spell and seize the opportunity whenever and wherever it hits me. Best system in the world? No. Better than nothing? Well obviously.

How about you? What are your cures to writers’ block? Do you keep schedules?

Speaking of schedules, I hereby vow to be better at keeping them. This means a serious attempt to post twice a week. Whether they be little posts or big posts will depend on a few factors, but I will for sure let you know about grad school and any writing progress I make. If I get my stats up again, I might post a  few excerpts :)


The Job We Love to Hate


We all talk about why we love writing. We tell others how much it helps when we’re depressed or stressed. We gush about how it releases tension and helps us share our joy (even if it’s just with our computers or notebooks). We praise our prose and dialogue. We exult our poetry. Even if we are not entirely satisfied with the outcome, we would never even consider not writing. It’s something we have to do simply because we love it so much.

I say that’s a load of crap.

There are times when I hate writing. And I mean hate, loathe and despise. Writing science term papers for example. I’d rather have dental work. Sometimes even writing English papers, depending on the professor and the topic, can be unbearable.

But that’s school, Miss Rosemary, you say. School writing is different from creative writing. Of course you like creative writing all the time.

Wrong.

I hate creative writing sometimes too. There, I said it, sue me. I’m a hypocrite. No, I’m not. You were thinking it, you just didn’t have the guts to say it. Even the best, most dedicated writers of the creative sort hate writing certain things at certain times. Sometimes (like today if you were me) you could be too angry to write. You can’t focus or channel your energy into creative juices, and then you hate yourself for not being able to write and then hate writing by association.

But barring intense emotions, every writer has that one element of writing s/he can’t stand … usually the one s/he is not good at. For example, between the two of us, G and I could probably write a whole book and be satisfied with it, because she could write all the settings and descriptions and I could write all the dialogue. She’s better at crafting settings and making “She had brown hair and blue eyes,” sound poetic while I can write some pretty good dialogue, whether witty, intense or depressing. One’s strength is the other’s weakness. Actually, now that I mention it, it sounds like a good idea. Babykins, let’s try that co-author thing!

What I’m trying to say is writing descriptions does not come easily to me so, nine times out of ten, I hate writing them. I am never satisfied with the way they turn out and sometimes, depending on my mood, I would rather be doing anything else besides writing. Why should I be sitting here rummaging through dictionaries and thesauruses (online and print) on a quest for the right word when the real problem is my inadequacy that’s making the setting suck? Why should I torture myself? Why not just skip over that little description and fill my story with what I’m good at? Because then the story would lack necessary elements and wouldn’t flow and would leave readers unsatisfied with an incomplete tale and I hate writing!!!!

So. What do you think of me now? Have I incriminated myself? Am I a hypocrite? A fake writer? No. I’m an honest writer. I’m a real writer. It’s not all easy. It’s not all simple. It’s not all “love it, live it, breathe it because I have to or else I’ll just die!” I take it as it is. I hate descriptions yes, but I know I can rise to the occasion. I take it as a challenge. I know it needs improvement, so I vow to improve it. I make myself write those descriptions. I leave Post-its in the dictionary on good words and stick index cards in my favorite books at good descriptions to use as models. I make notes in my Kindle books. When an image strikes me, I write it down to recall it later and put it to use.

Is all this a giant pain in the ass? Well duh, it takes up far too much time. But when it boils down to the bare basics, it all has to be done. Not one step can be omitted. Because I do love writing just for the sake of writing. I wouldn’t die without it (simply because I am generally a very physically healthy person)  but I wouldn’t be the same. Something wouldn’t feel right.

That doesn’t mean I should feel bad about hating the process though. I stand by my right to hate my passion if I so choose!

What about you? What do you HATE writing? Do you despise descriptions? Do you spit on prose? Do you cringe at poetry? Do you hate your characters because they can never say the right thing in the heat of an argument? What about writing really boils your blood?


911 Writers’ Block


CLICK HERE if you’ve been suffering from lack of inspiration of late.

You may have already seen this before, but I think it bears repeating.


Writers’ Frustration


Today is a momentous day! My dear blogging friend, Ollin Morales and I are guest blogging on each other’s pages. Some of you who were around last month or so may remember a short story I wrote entitled Writers’ Block. That story, as I mentioned when I first posted it, was inspired by good old Ollin. Here is his tale.

A Love More Like Hate

By Ollin Morales

Dear Novel,

I hate you. Why? Because you’re not working with me. You’re not communicating. You’re giving me only half of you.

You have no parameters. You’re all over the place, and I can’t live like this.

There are other novels I could have married you know. Plenty of them, that are probably just as good, if not better that you. That’s right. I said it!  BETTER! Tons of them! There’s one novel in particular that works really well for me, when I write it, it comes out so smooth and brilliant, but I stopped seeing it, because…

I thought I loved you more. I thought we would were going to have a long and fruitful life together. I thought you showed me who I really was inside. Who I really wanted to be.

But now, I’m afraid, we’ve passed the honeymoon stage. Novel, when I married you I didn’t think you had all these random quirks. This tendency to drip ideas casually and randomly, while I’m here open-mouthed with an open bag trying frantically to catch it all as it comes, like an idiot.

It pisses me off that you will spend days not speaking to me. I hate it. Stop doing it, we’re not gonna get anything done with the silent treatment.  (What is your issue? I mean, seriously!)

I’m afraid my friends, family and the people who read my blog are starting to notice our relationship isn’t so perfect.

We’ll screw it!  I’m tired of pretending. I’m telling everybody!  Sometimes I hate you.  You get on my freakin’ nerves!  This is supposed to be a team effort, Novel.  You and me together.  What happened to all that?  We were gonna sacrifice together. I trusted you, and you’re not doing your part.

I’m not buying your complaints that I’m too demanding or too overbearing.  I live my own life independent of you, and you know it.  I’m giving you the time we agreed upon, so tell me, what’s wrong?   I’m too nit-picky? You knew that’s how I was when you married me, so come on! I can’t be perfect! I’m impatient? Oh, you know what? You’re just making stuff up now. All I have is patience! What more can I give? You’re crazy!  You’re a lunatic, and I can’t believe I ever married you.

This isn’t looking good. I’m writing to tell you that for the first time I’m doubting this. I’m not sure if I can put up with it.  You’re the demanding one, you’re the high maintenance one, you got some serious narcissistic tendencies. There’s two in this relationship you know, and it’s not all about you.

All I have to say is that if you really want this relationship to work, you’re gonna have to show up. I used to be here whenever you needed me to be, but those days are over. I’m setting a bottom line:  when I sit down to write, I expect you to be there. When I’m not at my desk, don’t bug me, I need my space. This is how this is going to work from now on.

Hey, that’s the only way I’m gonna keep my sanity.

Talent’s like a wild horse I guess, and until you can tame it, it’ll drive you crazy.

So now you know the new deal, Novel.  Take me or leave me. There’s only two ways to go. Your move.

Sincerely,

Your Author Ollin

Ollin Morales is a young author who is currently writing his first novel. On his blog he discusses the tools that help every writer in their craft, he shares his thoughts about life and its many challenges, and ever so often he threatens his novel with divorce. Visit him at http://ollinmorales.wordpress.com.


Writer’s Block


This week’s assignment was a persona. The challenge: personify anything, either animate or inanimate, so long as it is not a human being.

Writer’s Block

Inspired by Ollin Morales.

My Dearest Friend,

Well hello there! Bet you didn’t expect to hear from me again! Not to worry, dear friend, I have returned to hoist you from the depths of your despair. You don’t need to fret any more. I’m here to help.

Remember how I used to calm you whenever your mother drove you up the wazoo? Remember how we would sit together and you would pour out all your feelings? All your joys, fears, hopes, and dreams you would spill to me. Especially about what’s-his-name.

Sorry, sorry! I’ll get back to good memories! My favorite days were the ones where you would come home after a night of drinking and the truth serum would loosen your lips. You could not keep your mouth shut, girl! The secrets came flying out like they were escaping some kind of refugee camp. They couldn’t stand being cooped up in your head any longer. They ran to me like parched people in the desert run to an oasis. Why did you keep them caged? You have to let them out, woman, or they’ll come to resent you.

But you didn’t actually want me to keep those secrets, did you? Otherwise you wouldn’t have told me. I mean, really, I would never have told myself anything I didn’t want other people to find out. My entire purpose of existing is to tell the world things; you couldn’t have selected a worse being to keep your confidence. I’m a gossipmonger; you know that. I spare no details of anyone’s lives. I tell secrets, embarrassments and drama with no qualms at all. I make people laugh, I make people cry, I piss people off. It’s what I do. It’s part of my nature. I live to talk. And you so generously provide me with all my material! Couldn’t do it without you!

Now don’t scrunch up your nose, like I know you do whenever you get angry. I’m sorry I left you. I know you missed me so. I watched you throw things, scream and curse when you couldn’t find me. I’m sorry I put you through such agony. I didn’t want to disappear on you; I simply had to. It was a compulsion I did not have the strength to resist. I don’t like it when you cry. But I had to go! I had to take a breather! There’s only so much consistency I can handle! I’m extremely fickle; you knew this before you got involved in our relationship.

Or maybe you didn’t. I kind of just snuck up on you didn’t I? I didn’t give you a chance to make up your mind. I just plagued you and bothered you and poked at the back of your head until you simply had to pay attention to me. The only other option was insanity. Although, perhaps getting involved with me could lead to serious depression…

Nevertheless, I’ve tired of torturing you. I, in my supreme goodness, will take pity on you and return, secure in my knowledge that you will be so relieved to see me that you will instantaneously forgive me my trespasses. If I’m honest I missed you too, love.

All the Affection in the World,

Your Story

Copyright Aspiring Novelist. All rights reserved.


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