It’s an odd situation for me, though I know many writers visit this apparent desert frequently and often for prolonged periods. But I appear to have hit that dreaded void known as ‘writer’s block’. But is it real? And, if it is, what causes it?
I’ve spent the past few weeks catching up on all sorts of activities neglected during the last three years of intensive novel writing for a series now complete. On Friday I travel to Cleethorpes, a typical English seaside resort on the coast of Lincolnshire, to attend a convention for science fiction, fantasy and gaming enthusiasts. Fantasticon 2018 will be the place where I launch my latest book, Return to Dust. I’ll also take part in a couple of on stage discussion forums (though, to be honest, I find public speaking pretty daunting!).
But, back to the writer’s block. I’ve recently (by which I mean this morning) become aware that I’ve been prevaricating with regard to starting something new. Much procrastination has been employed and engaged to avoid the fear of possible failure. In the past, I’ve been able to sit at the keyboard without an idea in my head and produce a story, apparently from nowhere. After such a long break from that, I realise I fear I may have lost it. What’s the solution? Obvious, really; try it.
So, after I’ve penned this short paragraph, I’ll open a fresh, virginal, unsullied page and start to place words on it. See where it takes me. Before I post this piece, later today, I’ll return and let you know what has happened. Wish me luck!
And, eight hours later, I’m back and ready to post this. In the interim, I’ve enjoyed breakfast with my wife, made a shopping trip to a local town to buy groceries, taken a walk down to our local village post office to buy a lottery ticket (a win would be nice this time), prepared and eaten lunch, amended the website I run for a local charity, dealt with emails, Facebook and Twitter, and prepared my route for the journey to Cleethorpes on Friday.
I’ve also returned to this morning’s story and upped the word count from the 512 words I’d written, prior to Valerie’s emergence from sleep, to 1834 now. I could’ve continued, but it’s Wednesday and we need to eat in time to allow the food to settle before we wander to the village hall for our weekly badminton group session. Got to keep fit. So, here’s the post. And it seems my ability to write a story with no idea prepared is still alive and well. Hopefully, I’ll finish it tomorrow, before I write the other two posts I need to prepare for the website for when I’m away. Wish me luck!