Writer's Block and Other Maladies of the Mind

My writers block this week took a different form. I had no problem coming up with ideas. My problem was coming up with too many ideas.
It centered on a single chapter. It isn't an important chapter, so it wasn't like I was working on a load-bearing wall in my house, but I kept coming up with flaws in the construction. I tweaked my first idea with a second idea. Later I considered a third idea ... and a fourth ... and a fifth. I stepped back and looked at the result. It read like a shattered mirror, with the broken pieces reflecting different angles. It was a mess.

So I did what any self-respecting author would do ... I threw up my hands and screamed to the skies. I asked for wisdom. I posted a note on my Twitter account and asked other authors who follow me for ideas. I was greeted by silence. OK, someone is trying to tell me I have to solve this problem on my own. So then I did what any self-respecting author would do ... I stepped back, looked at the chapters leading up to the problem chapter and examined the following chapters I had planned out. The result? I went back to my original idea, with some minor tweaking.

I simply spent too much time and energy working on alternative ideas. The chapter centers on the expanding relationship between a man and woman, and you would think that a guy who has been married for more than 35 years could handle that task. But it is a fictional relationship, and it is a supporting chapter ... kind of like filling holes in a brick wall with mortar. I spent so much time looking for the right mortar that I forgot about stacking the right bricks.

Am I alone in this problem? I think not. I am open to suggestions. Helpful hints, anyone?

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Wrestling with the idea of white privilege

A former co-worker was the first I saw charge that all Caucasian employees have the advantage of white privilege. I laughed and labeled it as the latest wave of thought designed to find perpetrators for victims. I laughed because of my upbringing. I was born in The Dalles, Oregon, which isn't an epicenter of wealth and status. It's a town of about 10,000 residents on the banks of the Columbia River. It is known for cherries, wheat, winds funneled through the Columbia River Gorge, and a key historic spot for Lewis and Clark and the pioneers who ventured west on the Oregon Trail. It was a good place to grow up, at least for me. It was small enough that you had the feeling all residents were neighbors. A downside was that you were often known by who your parents were. I was often introduced as Eldon's boy, or Virginia's boy. I was the third child of three, so I also was known as Steve's little brother, or John's little brother. It also was a town with a racist
Read more

Western boy adjusts to the South

I must apologize for the lengthy time between posts. You see, I have pulled up stakes in Colorado and settled into the beautiful Upstate region of South Carolina. It's more than merely a new location. This is a different culture, weather routine, foods, way of life. I am not going to be so presumptuous to believe I understand it all, but I have had time to form opinions about my new home. Here are a few: 1) The South doesn't believe in pretenses. Maybe it's different in Atlanta or Charlotte, but my new hometown of Anderson, South Carolina, is as comfortable as an old shirt. No one is expected to act one way, dress accordingly, show off the signs of status, or spend time telling people how good you are. One of our friends in our new home is Mykel, an African-American man who just moved with his wife into a new home from the apartment complex where we currently live. His reaction to his new home and car on the same day? "That's a blessing," he says. Walk down
Read more

On being out of journalism for one year

April 24 marked the one-year anniversary of Kevin Dale calling me into his office and notifying me that my job at The Denver Post was being eliminated in a reduction of workforce. I won't write about that decision today. That is so last year. But I learned a lot in those intervening months, so it's time for an update. It is a situation in which there is good news and there's bad news. People given the option of what to hear always take the good news first. I will reverse that order. Those bad things sit deeper in my soul, as they should for anyone who put decades of effort into his or her craft or profession. So here are the three worst parts of leaving journalism. 1. I have so much to offer and no opportunity. I am a skilled journalist. I have numerous writing awards. I was a good copy editor who worked on some of the best newspapers not only in the West but in the world. What was that worth in the job market? Not a darned thing. I applied for any job that had the word
Read more