The Fallacy of Writer’s Block

Imagine we struck up a conversation on the street one day and you mentioned to me that you’re thinking of building a house. “Are you serious?” I exclaim. “I am amazing at building houses! You’ve got to let me build your house, it’s going to be the most incredible thing you’ve ever seen.” So you say “OK, great,” and you leave me to it.

About six months later you track me down and we have the following exchange:

You: Hey how’s the house coming along?

Me: Ah, not great. Truth be told, I had to give up.

You: Give up?!? What are you talking about?

Me: It’s not my fault, I got about halfway through but then I came down with a bad case of builder’s block.

You: Builder’s block? What’s builders block?

Me: You know how it is when you’re going good for a while but then you just kind of blank. That’s what happened and I just didn’t know where to take it next. I wasn’t sure if it should be like faux mid-century, split level or post-modern so I got stuck and had to abandon it.

You: Why didn’t you just follow the blueprints?

Me: Yeah, that’s not the way I like to work. I’m not a “blueprints guy”. You see, I’m an artist and I just like to, you know, grab the hammer, some nails and the wood and just start putting up frames and start hanging drywall because, as an artist, the house will speak to me and tell me what it wants to be.

 Now at this point, I’m guessing you will have only one of two reactions.

1.      “Oh you poor thing, I’m so saddened to hear you came down with a tragic case of builder’s block. Are you OK? Is there something I can do for you?”

Or…

2.      “Are you [EXPLETIVE] kidding me? There’s no such thing as builder’s block. You’re just an idiot.  Nobody can build a house by just winging it. What kind of a moron would try to do it that way?”

I’m pretty sure we all know which one it would be. Now if you’re saying ‘OK that’s very cute but writing is nothing like building a house’, congratulations, you just learned your first lesson in overcoming writer’s block.

Lesson #1 – Writing is exactly like building a house

One of my favorite quotes on writing is from the Robert McKee’s classic Story where he writes:

Of the total creative effort represented in a finished work, 75% or more of a writer’s labour goes into designing story – only 1% of writers understand this.

This quote has always stuck with me because whenever someone has come to me with a story like “Can you help me? I’m completely blocked. I have this feature script and I got halfway through and I just can’t go any further,” I always ask the same question already knowing the answer. “Did you design the story in advance? Did you outline it before you started writing?” and they will respond with a sheepish “No.”

100% of the time. No exceptions.

Because just as nobody builds a house without blueprints, no piece of narrative writing should be done without first putting in the hard work of story design that McKee believes should be 75% of your total effort.

I have long believed that a writer has two distinct jobs: (1) designing story and (2) executing pages. I am certain what most writers call ‘writer’s block’ is simply the inevitable failure that comes from trying to do both jobs at the same time.

It’s at this point in the conversation where I usually get a little pushback in the form of “I understand but I’m an artist and the whole outlining thing isn’t how I like to express my art.” Which brings us to…

Lesson #2 – You’re not an artist, you’re just lazy

If you are writing poetry or stream-of-consciousness prose, I might accept that line of thinking. But if you are trying to construct a narrative story designed to engage a reader and/or audience, you don’t get to hide behind the artist label. Because I don’t believe narrative writers are artists; I believe we are more like craftspeople. I think we as writers have more in common with carpenters and cabinet makers than we do Jackson Pollack-style abstract artists.

That’s because it’s difficult for anyone to really judge abstract art, it is very subjective. A few squiggly lines and color blotches could mean nothing to one person and be deemed the work of a genius by someone else. Who can really say one reaction is right and the other is wrong?

But with a craftsperson, if you open the wooden cabinet door and it comes off in your hand and the shelves are all slanted, you can’t explain it away by saying “Oh he’s an artist and he’s making a statement.” No, he’s a shoddy craftsman who has done terrible work. Similarly, a writer needs to put in the time and effort to ensure the finished work is a solid piece of craftsmanship.

So if it isn’t about artistry, why do so many emerging writers balk at the outline stage and just want to jump right into the writing? More times than not, it’s because they are lazy. The outline stage isn’t fun for a lot of people. It’s not what makes them feel like a writer. They feel like this is supposed to be a respite from hard work, it shouldn’t be hard work itself.

Sorry Charlie. There’s no shortcut to being a master craftsperson. If you don’t want to get stuck in phase two, you have to put in the work in phase one. “Okay, but you have to admit, the outlining process does constrict creativity,” I often hear. To which I say, ‘I’m glad you brought that up’.

Lesson #3 – It may seem counter-intuitive but outlining is extremely liberating for a writer

I don’t want to give the impression that I don’t believe in inspiration and the magic that can happen when the muse taps you on the shoulder and it feels like you have sparks coming out of your fingertips as they strike the keyboard. I’ve experienced it too many times myself to pretend it isn’t real. And this is precisely why you need to do the necessary prep work before you start writing.

You will not believe how freeing it is when you are working with only the creative part of your brain. When you have already done the logical, puzzle-solving work and all you need to do now is make the work fun, fresh, and jump off the page, it’s the best writing experience you’ll ever have.

This is because you don’t have that other side of your brain nagging at you, harassing you with thoughts of “where is this going? What’s going to happen next? What am I going to do with this character?”

When I write a feature script or a TV episode, I do it from a step outline. Everyone does theirs a little differently but mine is usually a sentence or paragraph that explains what happens in the scene. I already know the gist of what needs to happen in the scene before I start writing it. Here is a snippet of a step outline from a feature Dan vs. Darwin which I had in development with Telefilm a few years back.

•          Dan at work tears a strip off the new guy for getting his coffee order wrong and callously fires Barry without a second thought. Dan learns of dinner with his father that night. 

•          Dan crashes Olivia’s class and begs her to be the human shield at dinner.

•          At dinner Dan tires quickly of dinner with the family and notices a stunning brunette BETH whom he tries to pick up. He fails miserably. We learn of his father’s Man of The Year Award.

This was a script about a spoiled rich guy who has his wealth stripped away and is forced to try to make it on his own when he falls in love for this first time but has no idea how to date as a commoner. These are three scenes that appear in Act I as Dan is building up to his big fall.

You see that with only a sentence or two, I have enough to write the scene. I know what comes before each scene and I never have to wonder what happens next because I’ve already worked that out. So every time I start a new scene, the ONLY thing I have to think about is how to make this the most dynamic, fun, engaging scene I possibly can. For a writer, that can only be described as…liberating.

“Okay, but what about the times I do try to write from an outline and I’m still stuck. Nothing I’m writing is any good. What do I do then?” you might ask. To which I would suggest you heed the sage advice of…

Lesson #4 – Give yourself permission to suck

Look, I get it. There are times even with all the outlining, you can’t help but feel that everything you write bears a striking resemblance to a steaming pile of dog crap. I’ve been there. In those times, the best way to move forward is to move forward.

Often what’s happened is you are trying to write while in your own head. You are too self-consciously writing. A former colleague who was a magazine editor used to call this 'throat clearing writing'. He said he could always tell when a writer was too much in their own head in the beginning of a piece. His solution was usually to lop off the first few paragraphs right up until the point when they got through it and started to write in their natural voice again.

The other thing to keep in mind is that writing is rewriting and if you are working on a first draft, it’s okay if everything is not jaw-dropping brilliant the first time out. Don’t compare your first draft with JK Rowling’s finished work because that has been written, rewritten, edited, rewritten a few more times and edited again.

If all you can think of is a bad or clichéd way to execute a scene, then write that as a placeholder. Because I can guarantee once you get into your groove, you’ll go back to it and make it much better. You only get stuck if you allow yourself to get stuck.

Nobody understands better than I how brutishly difficult writing can be . It is bll work and not for the faint of heart. But I honestly believe if you do the outlining, and write through the doubt, there is absolutely no reason why you should ever feel like you have writer’s block again.

The Power of Narrative In Our Lives

I LOVE story. I don’t mean just well written stories, like your favourite novel or that Oscar-worthy screenplay, but rather story itself. 

I love it the way other people love painting, or sculpting or music. In fact, I process story much the same way other people experience music. When I’m breaking down a narrative and I come across a section that is not working within the overall structure, it feels just like I was listening to a violin recital and the violinist just clanged a wrong note.

I’ll share something that I’m sure you’ll think is weird. I cried while watching Million Dollar Baby. You might not think that is strange because a lot of people cried at the end when Clint Eastwood euthanizes Hillary Swank. (spare me, Spoiler Police —you’ve had 12 years to see it). But here’s the weird part: I didn’t cry at the end. I cried near the beginning. I cried tears of joy and relief because after seeing one badly told story after another, I was watching a beautifully told narrative unfold before me. Imagine you spent years hearing nothing but a four-year old bang on piano keys and then one day you heard Mozart. You would cry too if it happened to you. (That’s mine. I coined that).

There is nothing that makes me feel stronger or more empowered than when I solve a story problem, whether it’s my own or someone else’s. I feel like King Kong; it’s all I can do not to scale the Empire State Building and swat away low-flying airplanes.

I believe there is a power in narrative that we can harness to guide us through the darkest times and the times we feel lost. But don’t take my word for it.

Christopher Vogler worked for Disney through the 1980’s and 90’s and wrote an amazing book on story titled The Writer’s Journey. In it, he modernized Joseph Campbell’s Hero With a Thousand Faces, which deconstructed the hero’s myth. Vogler wrote:

Such stories are true models of the workings of the human mind, true maps of the psyche.  They are psychologically valid and realistic even when they portray fantastic, impossible, unreal events.

This accounts for the universal power of such stories.  Stories built on the model of the hero myth have an appeal that can be felt by everyone, because they spring from a universal source in the collective unconscious, and because they reflect universal concerns.  

The idea imbedded in mythology and identified by Campbell in The Hero With A Thousand Faces can be applied to understanding any human problem.  They are a great key to life as well as being a major tool for dealing more effectively with a mass audience.

One of my absolute favourite things in the world is giving workshops on narrative story structure. I’ve done it for provincial film co-ops, writer’s federations, film industry summits, and national associations of editors and I never tire of talking story with talented writers, producers, and editors.

But if we take a look at the principles of narrative storytelling in that presentation, I think you’ll see the relevance goes beyond aspiring writers learning the craft. Because of the universality to which Vogler spoke, understanding narrative structure can serve as an effective lighthouse as we navigate the rocky waters of day to day life.

What is Story?

Remember the commercial from the 1980’s where a child says “Daddy, what was Vietnam?” and the voice-over comes in “A question a child might ask but not a childish question.” I believe the same applies to “What is story?”

The easy answer is “A made up series of events where a bunch of stuff happens.” Like a lot of easy answers, this is about a $30 cab ride from being correct. I define story in six words - One character’s journey of transformative change. That’s it. To me, a story is not a story unless it chronicles the internal transformation of the protagonist. Where this is present, we have classic stories that withstand the test of time. Cases in point:

• ·         Michael Corleone in the Godfather begins as an innocent college graduate who wants nothing to do with the family business and becomes the ruthless head of the Corleone organized crime family

•        Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz begins as someone who hates being in her small Kansas hometown and desires nothing more than fleeing. She becomes appreciative of her home and family, fully believing “there’s no place like home.”

• ·         Rick in Casablanca begins proudly living by his code “I stick my neck out for no one” and becomes a true believer in the underground cause who commits the ultimate act of self-sacrifice for the greater good.

So how is this relevant in your life?

If you feel lost, distressed, confused, or otherwise internally broken, congratulations, you’re exactly where you need to be to begin your journey of transformative change.

Rags to riches is a great story. Rich and stays rich is not. Someone who makes a determined effort and loses 120 pounds is an amazing story of the triumph of the human will. Someone blessed with great metabolism who maintains their ideal weight is not.

So no matter how bad it seems, remember, you’re just at the starting line.

The protagonist must have a clear mission

I’ve read hundreds of feature-length screenplays, novels and short film scripts and by far this is the most common reason a story is not working. Too often, these pieces are introspective narratives where everything happens in the character’s head, or they’re slice of life stories where we just go from random scene to scene without anything pulling us through it. But for a story to work, the protagonist must have a clear mission, there must be something they’re after and our interest is in seeing them achieve the goal. 

If you look at the origins of the word drama, it’s a far cry from the way my 14-year-old niece and her friends commonly use it today. Drama actually comes from the Greeks and it means ‘action.’ Dating all the way back to the origins of theatrical storytelling, you did not have drama if there was no action.

So again, what does this mean for us in our everyday lives? We cannot go through this journey of transformative change unless we actually identify a goal and go after it. Doesn’t it seem like far too often in our lives we talk about the things we’d like to see change? Maybe you’d like to quit smoking, run a 5K, or get out of what you know is a bad relationship. But all too often, that’s all it is — talk. It is during these times that we need to be more like the heroes of fictional narrative and turn talk into action. Would people have paid $12 to see Indiana Jones sit around and talk about how somebody should stop the Nazis from getting the Ark of the Covenant?  It seems ridiculous, right? Yet how often in our own lives is that exactly what we do? I know I have.

There must be something at stake

Another classic story structure flaw I see in a lot of writing is the lack of jeopardy. In order for there to be effective drama, there has to be something at stake. Failure cannot be an option. I often use this example in my workshops. Imagine I came over to your living room and said ‘Hey, do you want to see if I can walk across your living room floor with this coffee cup on my head without it falling off? Your answer is probably no. Why would you? Who cares? But if I then said “If I do it successfully you’ll get $100,000 and if it falls off, I found a way to hack your bank account and I’ll drain it to zero.” I promise you the 47 seconds it takes me to walk across a room with a coffee cup on my head will be the most dramatic, gripping, hold-your-breath excitement you’ve ever experienced. What’s the difference between the boring scenario and the gripping scenario? Stakes. Because there was something at stake, there is inherently more drama to the action.

The point here is anything that is worth achieving is going to have some jeopardy attached to it. Getting out of that relationship that’s been dead for years is scary. It comes with the risk that the other side may be difficult and troubling, and what if it’s not better? Starting out on your own as a freelancer or consultant can be a scary prospect. What if the clients dry up or there is some other unforeseen downturn? This is the jeopardy that cannot be avoided. It comes with any mission that’s worth accomplishing.

 

The protagonist only gets what they want when they finally embrace what they need

          

This is the single greatest story tip I can give you. If you want to tell narrative stories and you can master this, you're already in the top five percentile. I also think it serves as great life advice as well. We talked about a story being an internal transformation. The way the character achieves this transformation is by going on the journey and faces external obstacles and forces of antagonism. So you have the external desire of the protagonist with an internal need of transformation which they will undergo. A great story is where the external mission is only successful when the character embraces the internal transformation.

  

Let’s look at this in practice.      

In Star Wars, Luke Skywalker’s external mission is to rescue the princess and defeat the evil Darth Vader. His internal transformation is embracing the ways of the Jedi and fulfilling his destiny by starting along the path towards becoming a Jedi master. The only way Luke is successful in blowing up the Death Star is by fully trusting his Jedi training. He only gets what he wants when he finally embraces what he needs. 

One more.

In Back To The Future, Marty McFly’s external mission is to get his parents to fall in love so he can exist in the future. But his internal need is to believe in himself and have confidence in himself as a musician. We see in act one where he’s afraid to audition for the high school talent show, he says ‘What if I’m not good enough? I don’t think I can handle that kind of rejection.’ So ultimately what does he have to do in order to get his parents to dance at the Enchantment Under the Sea Dance and fall in love? He has to step in when Chuck Berry hurts his hand and can’t play. He has to overcome those fears and inner doubts and, when he finally does, he succeeds in his mission.

I’ve experienced this a couple times in real life, and as strange as it sounds, I believe there is some truth to it. There was a point when I was trying to make breakthroughs in my writing career and trying to get projects off the ground while, at the same time, I was not in great shape and living an unhealthy lifestyle. I decided I can’t control one aspect of my life but I do have some say over the other so I made a point to start working out and eat better. I got healthier, felt better and was able to enjoy life in a way I hadn’t before. 

And then the craziest things started to happen. I had more energy to work on projects, I had more ‘get up and go’ to pitch networks and through this process, I succeeded in getting a series in development with a major network. I am certain that like a protagonist in a well-crafted story, I only got what I wanted after I embraced what I needed. 

So be the hero of your own story that is 2017. Embrace the mission, undertake the journey, refuse to accept failure as an option, and get what you want by embracing what you need. And on New Year’s Eve, look back on it all and appreciate how far you’ve come and how much you’ve changed in just 12 months.

It will be the feel-good story of the year.