Cruising the block

I made mention of the guilt writers can feel when not writing last time I was here. Was that really two weeks ago? Time flies when you're having fun. Or when you're dealing with edits from the seventh circle of hell.

The fact is, I can very easily not write. In fact, I am something of an expert. I will seize any excuse not to throw words at the screen and sometimes it's as if there are traps all around my desk preventing me from even reaching it, like Indiana Jones trying to get to the golden figurine at the start of 'Raiders of the Lost Ark.' 

And I don't even have a bullwhip.

What is also a fact is that when I don't write - if, say, I abandon all hope of getting anything cogent down and I retire to the couch to watch a movie (for instance, Raiders) - the guilt kicks in.

You see, writing is a job and I know I should be doing it. I can make all the excuses I want but in the end I see them for the imposters they are.

The thing is, there are days when I just cannot string words together. That does not mean I have the dreaded writer's block.

I don't believe in writers' block. The Late Terry Pratchett once said, "There is no such thing as writer's block. That was invented by people in California who couldn't write." My apologies to anyone in the Golden State who is reading this. I'm sure Mr Pratchett was wrong.

Philip Pullman said, "Do plumbers get plumber’s block? What would you think of a plumber who used that as an excuse not to do any work that day?"

Whenever I feel my little hand fluttering to my forehead and I sink onto a chaise longue bewailing the fact that my muse has deserted me, I remind myself that I'm a writer and writers write. Right?

By the way, I have never actually done anything like the above. I'm from Glasgow, the toughest city in Scotland, and such behaviour would be viewed with contempt and quite possibly an admonishment to pull oneself together. Swearing and perhaps physical encouragement may also be employed.

So, no writers block but that doesn't mean I don't find myself stuck. There can be many reasons for this, principally the fact that I am not a plotter. I am not even a plantster, as I read here on Type M last week. I am very much a pantster and as such I hit many patches where, frankly, I don't know what the hell is happening.

I wrote around 30,000 to 40,000 words of my book The Dead Don't Boogie before I had to force myself stop and decide what it was actually about. I had all kinds of mayhem going on in Glasgow (it really is a relatively peaceful city despite being the toughest) but with no clear notion as to why. 

So I took myself and my dog off onto the moors to let the Scottish elements blow away the cobwebs. And sometimes just about everything else. The next day, I had a germ of an idea and I was able to complete the draft, then retro fit what I'd already written. 

When you hit a block in the road you either drive round it or, if you are Indiana Jones, drive through it. Sometimes you have to go back and find a different route.

I have come to a shuddering halt with at least two books and could not power through, go round or go back. I began filled with enthusiasm and I knew where I wanted to go but had reached a point where I was questioning why I was actually writing this damn thing. They were examples of an author writing the wrong book. I didn't know it when I began but I sure knew it by the time I found my words, ideas and interest dried up. I wasn't blocked. I just didn't care anymore.

That wouldn't happen to a plotter, I'm sure, but try as I might I don't have the discipline or the patience to go that route.

Here's the thing though - I still feel guilty that I didn't complete those stories. Maybe I will one day, when the time is right.