I hate titles, do you know that?
I’m sorry I haven’t posted sooner, dear readers, but truly, you wouldn’t have wanted to hear from me. I have been nothing but whiny and listless these days. Last night, I spent hours reading back issues of People I borrowed from the building recycling bin (Is Britney Spears gaining weight? Sweet Mother of God, can it be?). I have a headache and my legs aren’t working right and also my skin feels funny. I’ve been better.
It’s nothing serious, mind you. I know serious, and this—this is a day in the park. A day when you can’t find a shady spot for your blanket and when you finally do the yellowjackets swarm all over your lemon bars, but still, the park isn’t all bad! Those guys over there playing softball are enjoying themselves, aren’t they? Stop crying!
The Republicans were around recently, as you might have heard, and that didn’t do much for my spirits. Watching the Zell Miller-bot head jabber maniacally tore a small hole in my joie de vivre. Also, I read this book review about the near-inevitability of nuclear terrorism, and I might have freaked out a wee bit--I decided to move us all to Iowa, actually. I was all set to go but my husband pointed out that maybe I shouldn’t make major life decisions based on book reviews. And summer is over, which normally I’d be all hoop-dee-doo (why can’t I use real words as adjectives?) about, but when you have a toddler, it's more or less vital to go outside at least twice a day and let said toddler run in crazy circles until he releases the devil spirits inhabiting his tiny frame. In the winter, it’s a little like “The Shining” around here, only with crayons instead of an axe, a little less blood pouring through the hallways, and…hmm…actually, in every other way it’s identical to “The Shining.”
But the real problem is that creatively I have found myself at a standstill. The kind of standstill where you think maybe you're a talentless hack who can't construct a coherent or entertaining narrative and oops, you wasted half your life trying. I have the first draft of a children’s book finished, two essays sort of begun, countless drafts of short stories that need work, and a novel for adults (note: not an adult novel, which is a different, sexier thing and would probably pay more) that I keep abandoning and then running back to, begging forgiveness. Lately, every time I sit down to work, I flit from piece to piece, glancing at and then fleeing in horror from each one because it turns out that I HAVE NOTHING TO SAY. There’s nothing in my brain but a low, steady hum, interrupted periodically by a tiny voice squeaking, “Alice! Hey, Alice! You suck!”
I realize that right now I’m not the best judge of my work, so I continue to struggle valiantly against the urge to delete every document and/or set my computer on fire. But I’m not entirely sure how to get back on track and stop hating every word I’ve ever written. Do I stop trying to write for a few days? Or a few years? Or do I grimly return to my routine—which currently means sitting at my computer, hands poised above keyboard, hyperventilating quietly and waiting for the hour to be up so I can rock back and forth in a corner somewhere?
What would you do, reader? Alternately, what would Jesus do? Answers to either of these questions would be most appreciated.










September 9, 2004
Reader Comments (33)
that is what jesus should say to you. i also agree with "the great one" that you are doing a great job. continue to write --- even if you think it isn't worthwhile. i would be thrilled to read ANYTHING you write, finished or not!
Oh yeah ... sleep is good, too.
Some people are so talented that you could sit and watch them read the phone book.
That's how I feel about you, finslippy.
This won't help, but it's true that exhaustion, block, dried up.. happen to every writer. It happens to me weekly.
I think Jesus would be at McDonalds for the best 99-cent sundae in town and then up playing in the tubes at the PlayPlace.
:)
I heard an episode of On Point (that AM820 WNYC call-in show) with the author of that book review. They reran it the next week. Now, in Harlem, I wake up periodically in the middle of the night flipping out about it. I don't even have a kid, though. Your self-torture scenarios are undoubtedly worse. Nonetheless, I feel you, as the kids say.
(Also: the last time I woke up with this fear, it was from a terrifying dream about a dinner roll and a piece of string, and that dream was somehow quite as terrifying. Go figure._
Oops! Sorry!
You know what? I think that man was lying. He wasn't Jesus.
as for feeling untalented. we all have days where we can't see the things we're good at. and you my dear woman, are very very good at this.
i am not experienced at this, but my suggestion is to just force yourself to keep writing. maybe you don't feel ready to work on your novel or review your kids book or any of that stuff, but make sure you write something every day. write in a journal, write a one page story, write on your blog (which of course is the favourite choice of everyone here) but just keep writing. write about mundane stuff. i echo the comment suggesting writing about dryer lint. just write. make some time for yourself, even if it's only 15 minutes a day...
So, look at the stuff as practice. Brain surgeons really shouldn't practice, but pretty much every writer has to, and with practice, you'll get better. It doesn't matter that everything sucks right now (which I doubt very highly that it does, because you continually entertain here), but still -- you're not trying to pass this off as perfect. You're aware you're still working on it. And that's the beauty of writing (and rewriting and rewriting)... you can make it better. We don't get to see all of the unfinished crap all those professional published authors have hidden on their computers, or I'd be willing to bet we'd see a high crap-to-good ratio with them, too. It's the practice that got them to where they want to be, and you'll get there, too. (Anyone this consistently entertaining will.)
(And clearly, you people don't know Jesus well enough because he'd have chocolate covered strawberries.)
Write even when the voice in your head sounds like a quacking duck. Write even though you are sure what you wrote is utter shit. This is my theory of how to finish things. I'll shut up now and email you instead.
http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/tg/detail/-/0874776945/qid=1094807330/sr=8-6/ref=sr_8_xs_ap_i6_xgl14/002-8575698-9768020?v=glance&s=books&n=507846
I think it's really encouraging about stuff like this.
I put you on my favorites list and I don't even have a kid so I'm guessing you are not a talentless hack. Just saying.
Sit down with one thing and don't look at the other works in progress until you're done with one... even if you have to take a breather in order to come up with ideas for that one. Finish one thing and move on. You can do it!
And the best kind of regular writing to do is something personal, like a blog. Heh heh -- I just made that part up. Write whatever you want, and we in internet land will be thrilled if it includes your blog.
I dunno. I've always found that cheezits are the answer to all of life's problems. Ohh Cheezits, sweet sweet deliciousness.....