I Don't Get Writer's Block...

I get writer's paralysis. 

(via)

I'm neurotic already, but pursuing writing as a career has cranked that up to eleven.

(via)

And sometimes I feel like if I don't write I'll crawl out of my skin, but if I DO write I will suck as hard as anyone has ever sucked at sucking. So why bother? Misery either way.

A couple of days ago I was checking Go Into The Story (which is invaluable for anyone looking to become a screenwriter.) There's a feature called On Writing, and the quote posted that day helped me out big time. So here it is, for anyone who's ever felt like the writing task ahead of them is too big. Too complicated. Too. Damn. Hard.

“One thing that helps is to give myself permission to write badly. I tell myself that I’m going to do my five or 10 pages no matter what, and that I can always tear them up the following morning if I want. I’ll have lost nothing—writing and tearing up five pages would leave me no further behind than if I took the day off.”

– Lawrence Block

(via Go Into The Story)

Give yourself permission to suck. I am.

Getting The Words Right

Interviewer: How much rewriting do you do?

Hemingway: It depends, I re-wrote the ending to “Farewell to Arms”, the last page of it, thirty-nine times before I was satisfied.

Interviewer: Was there some technical problem there? What was it that had stumped you?

Hemingway: Getting the words right.

(via Daring To Live Fully)

Back On Track

I have a terrible habit of getting off track. I have the best intentions (don't we all), but you know what they say about the road to hell (hint: that it's paved with them.)

(And adverbs, per Uncle Stevie. Listen to Uncle Stevie.)

But something clicked this year. I realized that time is short. You don't get to say "in my next life..." blah blah blah. There is no next life. This is it. I should've realized it long ago, but I'm kind of a bonehead sometimes and things fall into place when they do. So I made some major changes.


I cleaned up my diet. Started exercising regularly. Started posting again (if sporadically.) Threw myself into various writing projects, and now The Writing Partner and I are on the verge of some very big things in the screenwriting world that I'll hopefully  be able to share soon!


I've also decided to finally finish writing a book. The Writing Partner and I brainstormed a solid set up that I'm very excited about, and I think I'm finally focused enough to see this through to the end. To not give up when I'm frustrated, or wander off when I'm distracted by shiny things on the internet.

(like lolcats!)

Stephen King is one of my favorite writers, and he writes 2000 words a day. If it's good enough for Stephen King, it's good enough for me. 


As one of my favorite screenwriting websites says "The Only Way Out Is Through."


So here's to writing through the good days, and writing through the tough days, and writing writing writing 'til my poor little fingers beg for mercy.


Because writers don't spend their time talking about writing. 


Writers write. 

I Got The Fevah!

And the only prescription...is more cowbell!

KIDDING.


Seriously, though, I feel like writing is like a fever sometimes (to be dramatic about it).


When I'm sick, I can't get comfortable. I feel like I'm crawling out of my skin. And by day three or four I'm so sick (pun intended) of lying on the couch that I feel like I will literally die if I don't do something active (more dramatics).


Back when writing was a hobby for me, it was easy to take it or leave it. Mostly leave it. Because writing is hard, y'all!


But now I've fallen in love with it. Writing is what I want to do forever. I want to be able to call myself a writer and not feel like a fraud, or like this is some temporary diversion until I  buckle down and get a "real" 9-5 cubicle job, complete with fuzzy fabric walls and terribly unflattering fluorescent lights. 


So these days, when I'm plowing through a chapter, or a treatment, or a script, I get that same antsy, uncomfortable feeling if I'm not working on it. 


It's a nagging at the back of my mind that won't let me rest. A shouty voice telling me to get my booty off the couch and back into that desk chair.


Maybe that's what they call passion. I call it The Fevah!