There is nothing worse than having Writer’s Block, especially when there is a deadline due. Recently, an editor from an independent publisher contacted me and asked that I write an article about something simple. No more than 500 words. Not a big deal. I am half way through with finishing a novel I am working on, so I can safely say, this small article shouldn’t be a big deal. Well, not only do I have Writer’s Block, but I have tunnel –vision because I am sick of staring at the computer screen.
When I was growing up, I would scribble and doodle in my journal, no problem. I would beg the teacher to give me Language Arts homework, as it was my favorite subject. I would ask other kids if I could finish their homework (probably so they would be my friend, but also because I loved Language Arts). I love the art of writing. It’s not just a hobby to me. It is my soul passion that I am trying to turn into a full time career. I admired the work of fiction authors like Charles Dickens and Judy Blume as a child. Those were writers that had nothing but brains and paper to work with. Their ideas were original and they had voice, and they did research the old fashion way with dictionaries, encyclopedias and of course, life experience. They had talent that brought them great recognition in the world of literature and beyond. The writers of those days had to literally go through something to write well about it, not just look it up on Bing, and then re-word it to avoid plagiarism. Things have changed so much. Just about anyone can write, blog or even publish a book if you have three grand and a finished product.
When I began getting serious about my writing, in my young adult years, I realized I only really needed half the effort, as search engines like Google became a wealth of more information than I could have ever wished for. If I wanted to sound smart, I could simply go to Dictionary.com and snatch a synonym.
If I wanted to write a biographical article, I just needed to read enough of Wikipedia to get the information I need to start a base and “work” my way from there. I wondered; Was I a real writer or a talented SEO artist?
I am a real writer and I wanted to prove it! I decided to go to the library and get information the old fashion way, then go sit in a field and journal my findings. I was going to get the information I need to write about what I was asked to. You know what happened? I realized how spoiled I was, and my journey to proving to myself that I was in fact, a real writer, started to get tiring. I actually didn’t mind forsaking the quest to figure out whether I was a real writer or not. I will call myself a writer and save my ankles a few tick bites. Let me at least explain why I gave up so quickly.
First of all, the library smells. It doesn’t smell like paper and ink, like you hear in the movies. It smells like people and children whose parents brought them directly from the playground into the library. Librarians aren’t mousy little women with horn-rimmed glasses. They are uptight, silver haired conservatives itching to charge you a late fee and give you advise on taking more books than you can handle.
Dictionaries? Boring! My hands got dry just from turning the pages, and I wouldn’t dare lick my finger in public while touching a public book that someone probably sneezed in.
I got writer’s cramp from trying to journal and take notes, and the stupid little pencil I was using started to get dull. I was used to my trusty Notepad application on my laptop. That never ran out of ink. I finally settled down to do my “research” for the article, so I could proudly say that I was a real writer that liked to do things the old fashion way. I got antsy and couldn’t stop thinking about googling up a couple things to make it easier. I just sat there, turning pages and half way reading what I would find, my brain not retaining one ounce of information. Writer’s Block had completely taken over my session, and I had no creativity of my own to put down on the paper. When I did build a little momentum, it quickly diminished as I attempted to brave my way through physically writing it. My eyes were getting heavy and I was getting cold from sitting right under the air vent. The sound of people whispering was so loud they may as well have been talking. I tapped the pencil on my head, played with the glasses on my face, and started thinking about what I was going to make for dinner and how time was running out for me to get my article done.
I finally decided it was not the time to get all noble to make a point that I was quite sure that no one cared about anyway. Face it, times have changed. I may not be Dickens, after all. I am accepting that I am a modern writer that knows what a real typewriter looks like only because I can easily pull up the images online. I don’t have to paper-cut my way through the dictionary to get the meaning and spelling of a word I don’t really know how to use. I can simply right click, and not only get the correct spelling, but about ten other words that sound better. I may have a laptop instead of a legal pad, and a voice-recorder instead of a journal, but I am still a writer, and I always will be. I seem to have it easier than the writers of old, but I certainly won’t take away from the fact that they not only worked harder than writers today, but they thought harder too, and their Writer’s Block was well deserved.
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