Writer's Block

It's considered the dreaded bane of every writer: that blankness in the brain when every idea has fled but the urge to create remains.  Why, when I sit down at my computer or pick up my pen, does every fascinating thought disappear but when I'm far from my computer or find myself without a pen or notebook (rare in my case but has been known to happen to me) the ideas skip and dance in my head, almost tripping over each other in their game of catch-me-if- you-can, as though daring me to try to remember them when I need them later?

Actually, if the truth be told, I don't believe there is such a thing as writer's block.  Yes, there certainly are many of those frustrating moments when I can't seem to generate the right flow of words about the topic I'm supposed to be engaged with, but I can always write something.  It may not be on topic; it's certainly not likely to be brilliant; but it will be words on the page.

And words on the page are quite simply magic.  Perhaps not the words I meant to write and perhaps not the words I need to write but nevertheless magic words on the page or screen.  I've been known to start work on a descriptive paragraph and find myself stalled,  not  able to get started.  So what do I do?  I simply write something, anything, anyway.  On topic or not, it gets me started and a start usually brings progress.

 Even on holiday, I try to keep the words flowing.

Once I was trying to begin a new chapter of the novel I'm working on and had no idea of how I was going to express the vague ideas floating about in my head but I had a very good idea of how the chapter was going to end.  So, I began to write...

So, these two people, I guess they're friends of that doctor in chapter 3, somehow they get to talking and when they're done they realize they met before twenty years ago.  Janet's shock at his revelation twisted her face to something almost inhuman and George realized she remembered everything.  Slowly his hand crept towards the light switch behind him as he awaited the moment to make his move.  Thought she'd fooled him, did she?  He'd show her; he'd show all of them; no one would ever laugh at him again.

Obviously the first sentence is going to get revised, probably right off the page, and while I was writing the last few words I had already found some of the words to describe the events that brought George and Janet to the same place at the same time.  Now my problem was how to get everything down on the page fast enough.

And, if I'd had to I would have started off by writing a description of my dog, my car, the trees outside my living room window, anything that would get the word gears turning in my head.  Words beget words which beget more words.  With the magic of the delete key, I don't have to keep them all, only the ones I want, the ones that suit the purpose.  What really matters is that I conquered the "writer's block" and created a sequence of words, which is all that writing really is, words arranged to convey a particular meaning.