Sarah Rose
I'm a bit of a drill sergeant about writers block.
I set tasks and don't let myself have rewards until they're completed. These might seem like extremely light lifts at the beginning of a project, say, 300 bad words a day. But I know that if I can get 300 lousy words a day on a page, day after day, then I'll have something to work with.
Some days I can't even do that. I make myself read 50 hard pages and take notes. Those notes will be useful, ultimately. They might make it into a text when I have a problem to solve later, they might inspire some bridge or insight. As long as I keep writing something.
It's a lot easier to sculpt clay than air.
So I bargain with and belittle myself and deny myself until I've reached some arbitrary goal. As long as I do it all the time, I'll end up with a book.
At some point, writing becomes self sustaining -- but not at the beginning. The first six months to year in a manuscript are nothing but work, then something kicks in, I fall in love, and I can't wait to go to work in the morning. I don't want anything to get between me and my love object. My friends stop seeing me. My personal life suffers. But I'm in love!
So, I do whatever it takes to get to the point of escape velocity. I put in the ugly time, pull up my socks, and keep plowing. Joy is coming. That's the one thing I know in the middle of my career -- it will always come. That knowledge keeps me going through the frustrating, dark days of blockage.
I set tasks and don't let myself have rewards until they're completed. These might seem like extremely light lifts at the beginning of a project, say, 300 bad words a day. But I know that if I can get 300 lousy words a day on a page, day after day, then I'll have something to work with.
Some days I can't even do that. I make myself read 50 hard pages and take notes. Those notes will be useful, ultimately. They might make it into a text when I have a problem to solve later, they might inspire some bridge or insight. As long as I keep writing something.
It's a lot easier to sculpt clay than air.
So I bargain with and belittle myself and deny myself until I've reached some arbitrary goal. As long as I do it all the time, I'll end up with a book.
At some point, writing becomes self sustaining -- but not at the beginning. The first six months to year in a manuscript are nothing but work, then something kicks in, I fall in love, and I can't wait to go to work in the morning. I don't want anything to get between me and my love object. My friends stop seeing me. My personal life suffers. But I'm in love!
So, I do whatever it takes to get to the point of escape velocity. I put in the ugly time, pull up my socks, and keep plowing. Joy is coming. That's the one thing I know in the middle of my career -- it will always come. That knowledge keeps me going through the frustrating, dark days of blockage.
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