You want to write. You intend to write. You almost wrote something yesterday, but… You know you have worlds to say. But all you can do is stare at the blank page. Stare, stare, stare. You feel stuck, empty, useless, unworthy, ridiculous, a pretender in the world of ideas. You feel shame, guilt, despair. Nothing comes. If feels as though your Muse has left town for Mozambique, with no forwarding address and her cell phone number is no longer in service. What to do? There is a name for it, and your condition is called “Writer’s Block.” The good news is that there is a cure. The cure takes willingness, awareness, serious martial-arts level self-discipline, and a heartfelt desire to give the gift of your words to humanity, to God, and even, if you can think this big, to the whole Universe.
In other words, you have to leave your cute little ego behind and think outward to your higher purpose, your reason for being here in the first place. Start here. Be sure you are clear on why you want to do this thing called “writing” anyway. That is 90% of the battle. Spencer Johnson (The One Minute Manager) recommends writing out your purpose and goals out and putting them where you can see them. (How to Write a Best Selling Book). Trust me on this. 10% of the battle is, as one writer put it so well, “Putting the seat of your pants on the seat of the chair.” Or, we could say that 90% of the battle is having a Muse you trust, someone like Kurt Vonnegut’s sister, who was his inspiration. Be of good cheer. There are many ways to trick yourself into writing. If you are passionate about becoming a writer, you will try all of them, find the ones that work best for you, and then start inventing your own. Writing is hard, and not for sissies. Julia Cameron (The Artist’s Way) recommends writing every morning no matter what. She calls this exercise “The Morning Pages.” Natalie Goldberg (Writing Down the Bones) teaches writing as a Zen practice, and tells her students to just “Keep the hand moving across the page.” Jack Kerouac carried little notebooks with him in his pocket and took notes for later reference. These are all powerful strategies for breaking through the “I can’t” syndrome. Try them. See what works best for you. Rilke created what he called “thing poems.” He created his own school of writing by wandering around Paris gazing intently at things, the way a writer of haiku poetry focuses on an exquisite moment in nature. “Yesterday I spent the whole morning in the Jardin des Plantes, looking at the gazelles,” Rilke wrote to his wife, Clara, on June 13, 1907. (Quoted in the essay on Rilke in Edward Hirsch’s inspiring book. Poet’s Choice). Carry a small notebook, like Kerouac. Write every morning anything that comes to mind, as Julia Cameron recommends. Make “writing dates” with other writers and sit in a coffee house and “keep the hand moving across the page,” as Natalie Goldberg teaches. And look at the things around you deeply, with awareness, full consciousness, and love. Then, and only then, will your language become a practical magic. There are many paths into the blossoming garden of your soul. Go, now, and find the ones that work best for you. If you have not found enough dreams, as Georgia O’Keefe once said, it’s that you “haven’t dreamed enough.”
Between now and now
between what I am and you are,
the word bridge,
Entering it
you enter yourself:
the world connects
and closes like a ring
Octavio Paz
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