Soooz Says Stuff: frustration

So, I’m Writing About Not Writing

Recently I posted on Facebook that I’d been finding it difficult / impossible to do much writing for the past few months. I was very pleased and encouraged by the number of my friends who posted kind and helpful comments. I got all sorts of advice, ranging from, ‘Write on, regardless of how you feel!’ to, ‘Take a complete break until you feel like writing again.’ Many of my writer friends said that they had had similar experiences.

My very good friend Soooz Burke suggested that I might like to write a guest post for her on the subject. Okay, write about not being able to write? How weird is that? But here I am doing it, because when I stopped to think there is quite a lot to say on this subject.

What is this strange malaise which seems to overtake all writers from time to time? It’s been christened ‘Writers’ Block,’ and the very fact that it has a name shows how prevalent it must be. It isn’t something that has ever happened to me before. I’ve always enjoyed writing and have never had any problem in finding something to write about – the ideas usually flow.

True, I’ve probably been over working for the past three years since my book Belfast Girls was first accepted and published. I’ve written three more books and edited two others for publication, and I’ve written numerous interviews, guest posts, etc, as well as running my own blog and keeping up a regular presence on Facebook and Twitter. So, I thought at first, maybe all that’s wrong with me is that I’ve overdone it and need a break for a while, as some of my friends suggested.

On the other hand, even if I dropped the various publicity work and reverted to simply writing one thousand words a day, as I used to do before I was published, (in line with the suggestions of other friends) I somehow knew that I would have nothing to say.

For some time now, since Angel in Belfast, my second Angel Murphy book, was published last summer, I’ve had several projects on the go. Firstly, I’d begun trying to turn Belfast Girls into a play, knowing that a local theatre was very interested in this. Secondly, I had begun extending a long short story, with the intention of reaching novel length, and had got as far as 33,000 words. Then, I wanted to put out more Angel books as soon as possible, and had ideas for at least two more.

Now, I’ve never been a multi tasker. I work best when I’m concentrating on one thing at a time. So perhaps I needed to pick one of these tasks, and one only, work on it until it was finished, and then go on to the next?

But I knew that I had no interest in any of them right now.

Perhaps I would never be able to write again?

Then a light shone, and I realised what the problem was. I’d always found it easy to write because I enjoyed writing. Since becoming a published author, I’d turned it into a job, something I had to do. The fun had gone out of it.

I decided not to work at any of my tasks – and how revealing that word ‘task’ was, as a title for the things I was supposed to be writing!

Instead, I would write something purely at random, maybe just a short story, something which had no particular purpose and which I could simply enjoy. I remembered the days when I found my writing as enjoyable as my reading, and when, as I created a story, I wanted to go on and see what happened next just as if it was someone else’s book which I was reading for pleasure.

About five days ago, I sat down at the computer, and began writing. I had no idea what I was going to write about. I began with a picture, a situation. Then I added a few events. I explored the character of my heroine – for I found I was writing about a girl, as I probably do the majority of the time. I added small amounts to the story most days. It was clearly not going to be just a short story. By the time I began Chapter Two that was very obvious. It was developing into a historical romance, a mixture of Georgette Heyer, Vanity Fair and Jane Eyre. And do you know what? I found I was really loving it!

Who knows if it will ever be finished? The last thing I intend to do is push myself, put myself under pressure to go on. But somehow I’ve a feeling that I’ll take it to the end.

Is this the secret of getting over writers’ block, I wonder? Making writing a pleasure again, with no pressure of any sort?

Maybe not for everyone.

All I can say is, it was for me!
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