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.