Writing Through the Pain

I’ve just come through a very difficult period of writer’s block. I’ve not experienced anything like it before.

I was at a pivotal point in the story where my main character experiences something very painful. The kind of emotional agony that brings up every other anguish you’ve experienced in your life. Soul-wrenching. But something was in my way.

My writing process begins with me seeing the scene. I know this sounds weird, but my story comes to me like clips from a movie. No, I’m not saying that the story writes itself or that my characters are in charge or anything like that. But my imagination unfolds the story before my eyes, so to speak.

For this part of the story, the scene was blank, as if the reel of film had run out.

I tried to force the issue. Sitting at my computer for hours and hours, staring at the screen. Reading the thousands of words already written and then reading them again. I realized that I had to step away for a while, so I put it away for a few days.

Instead of coming straight back to it, I decided to plot it out. I opened up a rarely used program and I loaded it with pictures. Then I asked a few questions and wrote down the answers. What was the hero’s goal? What needed to happen and was it compatible with his goal? What was the conflict? The outcomes of the conflict and the reactions to it?

As I considered these questions, the story began to unfold. Suddenly, there they were, the plot point and the pain. As painful as this scene was to be for my character, I needed to find my connection to his pain. I cried as I wrote it. I cry every time I re-read it.

I excited to see what happens next.

Why Worry? #lessons

I worry about everything.

The election. My partner’s asthma. My weight. Upcoming doctor appointments. COVID-19. World peace. My dog’s incessant appetite and thirst. Carbohydrates. The condition of the sun. Death. (Just as a few examples.)

It is exhausting, really. It takes its toll. Sleep becomes elusive, because when I close my eyes, all I can do is think about the thing I’m worrying about. And poor coping skills lead me to eat badly and stop exercising. Moreover, I also get nauseated, sometimes with the existential nausea of questioning existence.

One day, in the middle of worrying about death and dying, I had a conversation with a friend. She calmly listened to me lament while my stomach churned. At a point, she looked at me with the most puzzled expression and asked me, “If there is nothing you can do about it, why spend the time worrying?”

She went on to point out to me that the time I spent worrying so hard ruins time—worrying so much about death wastes life.

Have you ever had a lightbulb moment, a moment when you understand something so profound it changes your life? That was mine.

I’m not saying I never worry. I do. I suppose it’s in my nature. But a lot of the time, when I remind myself about this conversation. What’s the point of worrying when there is nothing I can do? And since EVERY minute of life is so precious, why waste any of them feeling sick and agitated about something that is out of my control? After that, I can usually take a breath and let it go.

Mostly.

I’d love to hear about your lightbulb moments. What “aha!” changed your life.

My lesson in a chart.

#NanoWriMo2019 for the All Around Win!

Once again, I am jumping into the insanity of National Novel Writing Month. Last year, for the first time in a series of efforts, I actually won—I had a 50,000 word draft of a novel I titled Too Close. Yay, me!

Unfortunately, most of those 50,000 words are not good. Not good at all. When I am ready again to focus on this novel (I LOVE the premise, although I am not ready to share it), I’ll have to start pretty much from scratch. Hopefully, I’ll be able to salvage some of the better sections.

Consequently, this year I’m doing things differently. I’ll share with you the lessons I learned the hard way.

Lesson #1: Plan your story. The rules of Nano permit and even encourage outlining of your plot and scenes. I do always plot but in the past I’ve waited until Nanowrimo started to really look at the story in detail.

Lesson #2: Plan your time. I work, so scheduling writing time is essential—in the past, I’ve just winged it. Bad idea. I’m also going to be realistic about holiday expectations, meals in general, and well…housekeeping.

Lesson #3: Screw housekeeping. “A clean house is a symptom of a rigid mind.” I heard that somewhere. Really. did.

Lesson #4: Sedate the “internal editor”. Prevailing wisdom says to turn off your internal editor. You know, the voice in your head that tells you your writing sucks. But in order to prevent ending up with a huge percentage of words you can’t use, you need a little self-editing. Instead of killing him or her off (or “it”—My internal editor is a pesky troll named STFU), just give it a valium. Or a hard punch in the head. This will help you achieve a balance between letting the words flow and making sure they’re good.

Lesson #5: Hire a dog/cat sitter. Or leave the house. If you are lucky enough to not have an attention-seeking or high-strung puppy or kitty then this doesn’t apply to you. My Chloe is a marauder and a menace. I LOVE HER DEARLY but cheese and rice she doesn’t like me to work. I have to leave the house.

I hope you find a few kernels of help in these lessons. If you’re participating in #NanoWriMo2019, good luck. And if you’re in need of a Buddy, drop me a tweet @TrevannRogers or a comment and let’s connect.