Howdy, Freeholders!

Okay, I had to post something different this week.  I’m going to tell you about how I overcome writer’s—or editor’s—block. And it all started with a painting.

When I was working on the final version of Sic Semper Tyrannis, I found it increasingly hard to focus on a particular chapter.  I know what I wanted to say, I just didn’t know how to make it…flow…with the story.  It’d  been giving me a headache for a week or so and really slowing down my progress.  It’s like the reverse of writer’s block.  Editor’s block?  Is that even real?  I don’t know.  All I know is it’s frustrating as all get out.

So I decided to try a tactic that worked for writer’s block the one and only time I suffered from it—do something else.  Anything else that is meditative and let my subconscious shift gears out of the write (or in this case edit) 24/7 mode. In the past, that’s been woodworking, a meditative, relatively silent, solo activity for me. No computer, no cell phone, no digital recorder, no notes, no writing.

At first I felt incredibly guilty that I wasn’t working.  But after I picked up my favorite Japanese saw and smelled that first whiff of freshly cut wood, the tension melted away, the frustration vanished and I lost myself in the rhythm of the woodworking.  Two hours later, my project was complete (I can’t even remember what the hell I was doing out there now, but it worked!) and I had the solution to my writing problem.  I cranked out 40,000 words over the next 3 days.

This time, facing the dreaded block, I decided to pick up my paintbrush.  Among the things I enjoy doing, I count art near the top.  Definitely top 3.  During the course of my renovation of the hobby area in the basement a few years ago in our old house, I transformed it from a dumping ground into my subterranean office…and I (re)discovered this:

It’s a simple watercolor painting I painted in 2009 when we lived in Texas, around the time our oldest was born.  I was bored one day, home from work (I worked at a big box arts and crafts store at the time) and dreaming of vacations.  Next thing I knew, I found an old photo album of the time my dad and I made a wild-ass trip through Arizona and New Mexico when I was in high school.

One of the pictures was of Bell Rock, Arizona, which I had climbed on that trip (about halfway).  On a whim, I decided to try and paint it with the crude watercolor set I had—hell, I ran an arts and crafts store for almost 10 years and had seen people give demonstrations on how to paint I don’t know how many times.  How hard could it be?

Four sheets of watercolor paper later, I found it it’s a lot harder than it looks.  And this thing that I created didn’t look…well, it wasn’t bad…but it certainly wasn’t all that good either.  But it was the first time I’d seriously tried my hand at watercolor and I was happy with it.  Just looking at it brought back memories that made me smile.

And then it got tossed in a box and lost to me.

And that’s how, several years later, while taking a break from working on Sic Semper Tyrannis (sequel to Alea Jacta Est) I was digging through the basement of a new house in a new state to clear space for my new office, and I found that painting of Bell Rock, framed it, and hung it on the wall to give my writing nook a splash of color.

So, by now I’m sure you’re asking yourself, what the hell does this have to do with anything?  This was all years ago, right?  Well, plenty.  

As my editing progressed on Sic Semper Tyrannis, I crashed headlong into the aforementioned edit’s block and found myself staring at that crude painting trying to muddle my way around the problem in the story.  Finally, it hit me: I needed to step away, unplug, recharge and come at this from a new angle. Just like I did all those years ago with the Bell Rock painting.

I closed the laptop, dug out my paints and paper and headed topside to the kitchen table.  A few hours later, I had this:

This is my crude attempt to recreate a photograph I took when my wife and I toured Scotland in 2008 on our long-delayed honeymoon.  One of our favorite castles was Dunottar Castle, south of Aberdeen.  It’s out on the rocky crag that juts into the ocean off Scotland’s east coast, accessibly only by what looked like a goat path from the mainland across some steep, rocky ground.  And there were no hand rails or warning signs.  We’re talking hundred foot cliffs, stiff winds and failing light.

It. Was. Awesome.

We arrived at 5:15pm local time and struggled to make our way through the buffeting wind down the path (passing motorcyclists wearing neon racing gear emblazoned with BMW over every square inch of their bodies) and finally clawed our way to the castle gate, or what was left of it—it’s a ruin, you know.  The grizzled elderly curator was just locking up and gave us some serious Scottish side-eye as we stood there panting in the castle entrance.  We were free to climb around on the outside, but sadly we could venture “nay further.” He brushed past us, wished us a “goo’ e’en’, then,” and disappeared down the goat path. [1]

After we shook off our initially deep disappointment, we realized we were happy to clamber around on the rocks in the misty salt-breeze and take pictures of the lonely ruins from a distance as the sun set behind a bank of North Atlantic clouds.

One of those pictures I decided to paint. And you know what?  The moment I was finished and stepped back to admire my work, a light bulb turned on above my head and the solution to my editing impasse presented itself.  That opened the floodgates and I pounded out the rest of the book in no time.

Since then I have used this technique—not painting, per se, but doing something different, taking a step back and letting my mind think about something other than the #$%&ing book I’m stuck on. And though sometimes it takes a few hours to a few days, to even a week (once), it works. EVERY TIME.

So there you have it, how a watercolor painting helped put Sic Semper Tyrannis back on track.  Kinda weird, but not really.  No one can focus on one thing 24/7 waking and sleeping and not burn out.  I think writer’s/editor’s block is just our subconscious mind’s way of putting on the breaks and making you take a step back to recharge before complete burnout sets in.

So, that’s my writing advice for the week: when you’re stuck on some aspect of the story, whether it’s creation or editing—what people call “writer’s block” is really your subconscious telling you there’s a problem and you’re not ready to move forward.

Take a break, take a walk—hell, take a vacation! Come back to the work sometime later and see if the problem doesn’t work itself out. Some people keep multiple projects going so that if they get stuck on one, they pivot to the other, and there’s no downtime and they’re always moving forward on something. I’ve tried that and it’s hard to get going…I always get the stories and characters mixed up. It works better for me to focus on one project at a time and just go read a book or watch a movie or six and then come back. I always have a eureka moment in the shower, or a dream, or driving the kids to school or something like that. My mind relaxes, the subconscious bubbles up a solution and hot damn, we’re back in business.

Until next time, my friends, keep your heads down and your powder dry, for we live in very interesting times.

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NOTES

[1]: That’s apparently Scottish for “good evening, then.”