Why Is Writing So Damn Hard?: My Ongoing Battle With Writer’s Block

By far, the most frustrating thing I’ve ever had to deal with as a writer is figuring out why I’m not writing. When I think about how long some of my writing droughts have been, it makes me want to tear my hair out and cringe. Few people have dealt with writer’s block on the same level as I have. (People give George RR Martin a hard time, but let’s just say he outpaces me by a large margin.)

Sometimes I see posts where people are trying to encourage others. They’ve finally won their battle with writer’s block, they’ll say, as they show us their finished manuscript, with a mention it took them “five long years” to complete. Great! But what about those of us who have been struggling with it … longer?

I decided I wanted to write a novel and first conceived what would become Five Rings back in 2007. It’s fourteen years later, and I still haven’t completed my first book. What does that say about me?

I’ve suffered countless sleepless nights thinking about it. I remember searching for phrases like, “Why is writing fiction so damned hard?” and coming up empty-handed. I have a burning passion for this, I think about it all the time, and I’ve exhaustively researched the craft, so WHAT’S WRONG WITH ME???

Most authors give a combination of the same tired advice, often in “Top 10” style lists:

“Take a vacation.” “Read more.” “Just write!” “You don’t understand your own characters.” “Interview your characters.” “Create character sheets.” “Do field research.” “You don’t like your story, write something else.” “You don’t understand the direction of your story.” “You’re just afraid of failure.” “Give yourself permission to write badly.” “Write two stories at once.” “Write the fun bits first.” “Write every day.” “Create your own deadline!” “Create a writing ritual.” “Sit with better posture.” “Drink more coffee.” “Change of scenery!” “Join a writing group.” “Do writing sprints.” “Join NaNoWriMo.” “Set a writing alarm.” “Get up earlier.” “Turn off the distractions.” “I choose not to believe in Writer’s Block; If you’re not writing, you’re not a writer.” “Get out a pen and notecards and write down every scene, then shuffle them.” “Go exercise.” “Take my writing course, bro, it’s only $299.95.” …etc.

This kind of advice works great for some writers, but what about for the people it doesn’t? What if you’re like me, and you’ve tried all the standard advice, and none of it worked? Successful authors might shrug and say, “Maybe you just aren’t cut out for writing.”

Some even go as far as to say Writer’s Block doesn’t exist. Full stop. There are authors out there who strongly believe you aren’t writing because there’s a fundamental problem with your manuscript, and that’s the only possible reason why it could be so. (I can almost visualize Joyce Carol Oates pointing at me, scolding me.)

But people like us have an internal puzzle we need to solve. A mental puzzle unique to each of us. We need to find that “thing” that keeps us writing every day, and Prolific Writer X isn’t going to give us that answer. We are the only ones who know ourselves best, and nobody else is going to do the heavy lifting for us.

I’ve delved deep into the interwebs on this particular subject, and, once you scroll past the hundreds of pages of canned advice, you’ll find there’s a lot of unusual, crazy advice out there, too. Over time, I’ll be sharing some of that off-the-wall advice with you, and maybe some of it will clique, or perhaps one piece of advice will derive itself into a new idea or combination of ideas, something that fits you just right. Something no one else could have ever told you, certainly not as casual advice.

I will also be discussing what has and hasn’t worked for me, to what degrees, and why. I want to use this blog as a vehicle to inspire to keep me writing every day. If it also inspires others, wonderful! But that’s the main focus of this site.

Writing fourteen years has a funny way of giving you an idea of what does and doesn’t work. For example, when I do manage to actually start writing every day for weeks at a time, there are a couple things that I noticed break my flow, every time.

• Going on a long vacation.
• Starting a college semester.
• Family members feeling neglected because I’m writing too much.
• Telling someone all about the story I’m writing. As in, the entire plot.

And once that flow’s broken, there’s no telling how long it’s going to be before it comes back.

Fortunately, as of a few weeks ago, I’ll never have to deal with another semester of college again. So that’s stricken from the list. If I can bring my laptop along on vacations to ensure that I keep writing, that might help, too. The third bullet point might be a little more tricky to tackle, but fortunately I’ve learned to balance my writing and family life and have been better with communication. But sometimes I get so immersed in a story, I don’t realize how much time has passed.

So, the million dollar question: Have I been writing every day? Well, yes. Not only am I writing non-fiction here every day (except Sunday), I also just finished final edits for Chio Pino: A Reverse Retelling of Pinocchio. It’s the largest manuscript I’ve ever completed (~20k words), and a specific trick did motivate me to finish. So maybe there’s hope for me, yet.

Trouble is, I’m not exactly sure why I’m still writing right now, or if it will last. But one thing I came to realize over the years is that seeking advice on Writer’s Block from famous authors is like a passionate amateur asking a world famous concert violinist what motivated them to practice and persevere all those years.

There’s a huge gap between the two, a disconnect between the pro and amateur. Can the pro even relate anymore, or are they too busy enjoying the smell of their own farts? Do they remember the struggle? Did they ever even struggle at all? Do they understand they are an exception to the rule? That they beat tremendous odds to achieve what they did? That their propensity to practice is superhuman in most people’s eyes? Do they ever wonder what happened to all their violinist schoolmates and colleagues that fell off over the years? Do they assume that their former colleagues just didn’t love music enough to stick around?

These days, I’d almost rather ask amateurs what motivates them, and go from there. Just like you, their future is still uncertain. They face many of the same unanswered questions you do, so they can better relate to your situation.