Writer’s block is a real imaginary thing.
The block drives writers crazy and desperate. It keeps us from the physical act of writing. We doubt our previous work and contemplate the odds of ever getting published. We waste our energy on the past and the future, instead of seizing the present moment.
The block also muddies the water of clarity. Without clarity, no good and meaningful work will come out. The artist innately knows, so further panic and more procrastination. Why bother writing if nothing good comes out?
The block keeps us stuck between a rock and a hard place, unable to journey forward. We are throwing a tantrum. Love my work before I create anything, else I won’t create.
We add weighty shackles to our creativity. We fixate on the end product and cage ourselves. Writers need a lot of space.
Writers also need great patience. Writing is a lifetime practice. We need to empty our expectations, sit down, and write. The odds are not ours to contemplate. We show up, shut up and write.
So, how? How do we stop the tantrum and start writing again?
I propose a simple two-step process.
Step One:
Write out what the voice in your head is saying. No filters. It tends to be repetitive and self-pitying. Let it be that.
Mine sounds like this:
You are shit. Your writing is shit. Who is going to read your petty, small, useless shit. You write nothing good. You call that writing?! How dare you to put that out into the world? You are only adding to the noise. How is that helpful to anyone? You should be ashamed of yourself. You dare to occupy other people’s valuable attention and time with what you write?! Look at your writing and John McPhee’s. Your sloppy thinking and poor choice of words, your horrible grammar and terrible rhythm, none of it makes good writing. English is not even your first language! How dare you write in English? You think you can write in English? You can’t even spell? How dare you?!
Sounds familiar?
Step Two:
Stand up for yourself. Write a counter argument. Be polite and firm.
Dear critic/monster/guardian,
I appreciate the energy and attention you have devoted to make the physical act of writing impossible. I am sensitive. What you said hurts. I hurt. If you think you are protecting me by saying hurtful stuff, you are mistaken. Writing is my raft. It keeps me afloat in the sea of life. Don’t take that away from me. I am not a good swimmer. I will drown.
First and foremost, I am not shit. You need to watch your mouth. I am one fabulous, creative, resourceful and resilient lady.
Second, you are not my readers. You cannot decide what they think are valuable or helpful. Leave that to my readers to decide for themselves. They are smart, capable and independent thinkers. They get to decide how they want to spend their time and energy. Plus, I have hard evidence that someone told me my writing helps them.
Third, shame and guilt have been weaponized to control people, especially kids. I am strong enough to tell you that I have nothing to be ashamed of. I am proud of my writing. I write honestly and openly. I write what is true at any given moment. Writing is my positive act. It is standing up, saying something. The part of me that creates is vulnerable and tender. It is a 5-year-old child. Your act of preventing me from writing is child abuse. You need to stop.
Lastly, of course I want to write like John McPhee. Who doesn’t?! I need to practice, practice, and practice some more. Are you afraid that I will become good by practicing and proving you wrong? By the way, English is an international language now. You need to keep up with the world. There is evidence that foreign-born, and foreign-raised writers publish books in English. They have stories to tell. They have people to help. I have stories to tell. I have people I want to help. And our foreign ears give us the ability to add new tunes to the English language. I think that’s an advantage. If English gives me a voice, I will use it. And I will get better at it. You just watch me. I will practice, over and over. Write and rewrite. Learn words, grammar and rhythm. I will tidy up my thinking. I will learn from McPhee. Now, will you excuse me, I need to go write.
Writing,
Xiaoyu
