I should be writin' but I cain't I should be happy but I ain't Words on the run Ideas won't come I got the writer's block blues. You say I'm lazy, don't you try it Just start composing, I don't by it Stuck in the drudge Don't be my judge It's just the writer's block blues. Twitter says follow and I do Facebook says like me; please like me too TV's a siren I'm really tryin' to cure my writer's block blues.
This is an archival post from March 2011.
I’m what would be described as an emerging writer…although I’m neither new at writing nor young. I have been a storyteller for a long time but my medium has been television. My work now is to become nimble in the craft of writing. It is a challenge.
I hear dialogue and see action when I write. My stories have a voice (and usually an accompanying visual) that plays like a movie in my head; the result of writing scores of scripts, narratives and introductions for film and television projects I’ve produced. It’s an enviable skill to have for a medium that relies on sound and images but a burden for writing literary fiction where story, plot and words are the masters.
But, I’ve been writing all my life so my backlog of unpublished short stories and poetry have given me a way to re-train myself. The poetry has been especially useful because it depends so much upon the vitality and authenticity of words. When I write poetry it doesn’t invoke an image, its origins are organic and my response is visceral. When I’m lucky, my fiction writing has a certain poetry.
I admire writers who are inherently cerebral. I admire writers who demonstrate a fluidity of language. I admire writers with powers of description that lift characters or locales right from the page. I don’t know what kind of writer I am, yet. I do know when I write well my head, heart and spirit are all composing and my keyboard is just their instrument.
Post Script: My novel, Long Way Home a World War II Novel, is available as an e-book on Amazon.com I’m completing my second book, working title: Motor City/Magic City about an African American, female private investigator working in Detroit .
“A schedule defends from chaos and whim. It is a net for catching days.”
-Annie Dillard, The Writing Life
Writing is an adventure. To begin with, it is a toy and an amusement. Then it becomes a mistress, then it becomes a master, then it becomes a tyrant. The last phase is that just as you are about to be reconciled to your servitude, you kill the monster and fling him to the public.
– Winston Churchill
Work done well is a spiritual endeavor
Those whose work and pleasures are one are fortune’s favorite children.
I write the words and phrases but they’re like orphans. No family to help raise them from the page.
That’s when dirty clothes in the hamper, decaying food in the refrigerator, weeds that have beaten the lawn into submission call to me.
Chores make ignoring the letters on the wide expanse of white, less sinful.
The errant weed reminds me of the haphazardness of life and when I’m lucky, the churning of the trowel lifts roots of dialogue and scenes from the fertile soil. Maybe the dandelion has a story to tell.