I don’t believe in writer’s block! There, I said it. I’ve been stonewalled for saying those words, but it’s the truth. Hear me out before you pick up those rotten tomatoes.
I have a full-time job, but my goal is for writing to be my dominant career. We’ve all worked in jobs we didn’t enjoy or even hated, but we showed up and worked right? You’ve never shown up at your job and said to your boss, “I don’t feel like working today ‘cause I’m not feeling it, right?”
Writing is a creative and artistic process, but many writers don’t treat writing like a job because they feel it’s take away from creativity of it. Not true! The more I write the more I love it! Is there times I’d rather pluck out my eyeballs and dip them in acid than sit down to write about characters who aren’t speaking or work on a story I’m no longer excited about? Sure! Here’s what I do to get passed it to my happy writing place again.
WRITING IS A JOB
Give your writing time the same respect as your job. Sit down and get to work whether you feel like it or not. Those first few minutes will be torturous, but you’ll get to you’ll start to enjoy it once you push through the pain.
CHANGE IT UP
You got your butt in the seat and stayed there for hours, maybe even days, and still nothing? Try mixing it up. Go for a walk, watch a movie and study the plot, characters arcs, and dialogue. Read a book that inspires you, or try writing in a different location in your house or at a coffee shop. Sometimes a simple change(s) can spark your creativity.
KEEP AT IT
If days go by and still nothing, don’t give up! Muses can be a pain to whip into shape and getting them to cooperate takes longer than we’d like, but don’t let her win. Assert yourself and show her you’re the boss.
The important thing to remember is that writing isn’t easy and like anything artistic, takes time, effort and dedication, so keep at it and you’ll reap the rewards. You got this!
Writing with island flair
Meanwhile, here’s an excerpt from Deadly Race – her latest novel!
“I didn’t really have a relationship with her. She was someone I wanted, but she didn’t know how I felt until an hour ago.” Would she decide to kick him out of her apartment for either leading her on or being a complete ass?
She gripped the couch tightly and it collapsed beneath her hands. Her eyes narrowed to slits and her mouth twisted in anger. Here comes her emotional eruption. He braced himself.
“You put me through all of that for nothing?” She said it with so much control he wondered where she got it.
“It wasn’t nothing to me,” he reasoned.
“Wasn’t nothing? Do you know how many times I felt guilty because you had a girlfriend, or know how many nights I lay awake imagining I’d go to hell for the dirty thoughts I had about you in this apartment, inside and outside your car, even the examination table in your office?” She paced before him.
Jackson was speechless, and turned on, as he thought about everything she’d just mentioned. He remembered the night she kissed him in the car and wondered what would’ve happened if they hadn’t been interrupted, or if they’d been in a secluded area instead of outside her apartment.
“Hey!” she shouted, pulling him from his erotic thoughts of her spread out over the roof of his car.
“Stop that! You don’t get to have a fantasy in the middle of my rant. Got it?” Her index finger pointed at him.
He wanted to smile, but knew she’d probably knock his lights out if he did. “Please continue,” he said as politely and seriously as he could.
“Why couldn’t you be honest with me?” She ran a hand through her hair.
Honest about that? She couldn’t be serious? “Honest about wanting someone I hadn’t even told how I felt? I hardly knew you, Remy, and you wanted me to share something I’d kept secret for nearly two years?”
“Two years?” Her voice echoed in disbelief.
It sounded ridiculous to hear it out loud.
She must’ve thought so, too, because she laughed. It started as a light chuckle, but then escalated to full, out loud, boisterous laughter until it was so extreme she fell to the floor behind the couch.
He walked over to where she lay. “It’s not that funny,” he insisted.
She looked up at him with tears in her eyes and laughed harder.
“I’m glad you’re enjoying this at my expense.” He extended a hand to help her up, but she waved it away as another fit of laughter overtook her. “You might not believe this, but I’m incredibly shy.”
She roared louder and gestured with her hand for him to stop talking.
He couldn’t blame her for laughing. He’d been anything but shy around her. She had a knack for bringing out emotions in him that were less than passive, with her audaciousness and that unfiltered mouth of hers.
Founder of Caywriters
A company dedicated to promoting and nurturing writers in the Cayman Islands from childhood to adulthood