Writer's Block

Isn't that the way of things?

When I started this blog, I had a million things swimming around in my head that I wanted to write about. Now I can't find a single thing to write about. It seems silly to have a blog if you don't know what to share, but it also seems silly to go through *all* (not true. This thing was amazingly easy to start) the work of setting one up and dropping it after the first post. At any rate, this mental effort is killing me. I'm so enthused that the moment I start a blog, I'm incapable of writing it. Well, I might as well fill up the space with something... 

Things I've learned today: 1. That staring at the blinking cursor is not a substitute for writing, but if you want to look like you're writing, it suffices. 2. That 'Ian' is the Scottish substitute for 'John'. (I actually learned this yesterday, but it hasn't been twenty-four hours yet, so it's still in). 3. That I could have beaten my brother at Trivial Pursuit last night if I'd remembered more of the geography lessons I took back in grade school and 4. That the buzzer on the washing machine does not stop going off if you ignore it. 

Writer's block is something that never fails to show up at the worst times and always seems to take down everything in its path. I still find it hard to believe that a person who works on eight novels simultaneously can be susceptible to an all out case of this annoying phenomenon, though 'tis true that I have pretty much dropped work on three that I keep only to turn to in dire circumstances. 

I've heard that some people don't believe there is such a thing as writer's block. If so, I'd like them to come over and explain what exactly it is that causes this mania for staring at a blinking cursor. Perhaps they'd call it a "lack of inspiration" -- which I also have at the moment. 

Whenever I feel like this, the most dangerous thing for me to do is go back and look at the stuff I've already written. I want to erase the whole thing and start over. Something I do enough as it is. I have one novel that has had more backward motion than forward because every time I get to the good part, I start over and rewrite the beginning. This has driven one of my sisters crazy for years. I've given her the same beginning, rehashed with a few changes each time, so many times she probably has it memorized. By now, when I ask her if she wants to read it, she always suspiciously wants to know whether or not I've gotten any further or if I'm going to put her through the same rewarmed sequence again. I guess my tactics are getting a bit antique... 

My remedy for writer's block is about as uncreative as the (what do you call this anyway? It's not a disease, though, at times it feels like one...) problem (?) itself. I let the novels moulder and read books until I get my inspiration back. For a really bad case, it takes a really large amount of books. Which is fine, because I have more unread books on my shelf than I know what to do with. 

'Till next time...which might be a while; I've got to think of something more interesting to write about than this. 

-- Jamie