Not to scare you, but there’s more than one kind of writer’s block.
There’s the overarching plot kind, which is big and broad and says, “I don’t know what happens next.” There’s the links-in-a-chain kind, which is like a map with paint spilled on it and says, “I know the beginning, and I know the end, and I have no idea how to get there.”
Then there’s the stubborn character kind, which I like to summarize as, “My protagonist is being a butt.”
I assume it was a typo. It should have been “The early bird gets the word.” Why? Because writers who want to be more productive need to start getting up earlier.
Now, before the night owls start hooting at me, let me make my case—a very unscientific and highly personal one.
Courage is the most important of all virtues, because without courage you can’t practice any other virtue consistently.
—Maya Angelou
In his book, 10 Steps to Becoming a Writer, Joe Bunting that the first step to is to publish your work.
I agree with him, but often our emotional experiences can block us from publishing. When we approach publishing, we often experience doubt, fear, insecurity and all the other difficult feelings that come with opening ourselves up to feedback from others.
Ahhhh the holidays. A wonderful time when we burn the rest of our vacation time and, suddenly, our schedules are wide open. Oh the writing we will do!
Except, oh yeah—the inevitable family visits, holiday parties, and travel time. Not to mention all those holiday TV specials you can’t seem to peel yourself away from (hey, no judgment here, I’m the queen of TV holiday specials).
Next thing you know, you’re shaking the New Year’s confetti off your dazed head and wondering where the heck all that “writing time” went.
No, not that kind of oil. Not cooking oil, although the man in this photo is using plenty of it. I refer to the Rembrandt-like quality of this photograph. I’ve been looking at this image for ten years. It is one of the most stunning naturally lit, completely undoctored, photographs I have seen in those ten years.
This photograph carries with it profound and poignant meaning beyond the simple act of making poori, beyond its composition, light, and saturated colors, beyond its timelessness. It carries the stories of a quarter million people who perished ten years ago in a violent natural cataclysm that devastated the shores of eleven countries. No doubt you know which event I’m referring to. Its tenth anniversary is coming up this December 26.
Today I’m sharing this image with you because I’d like you to write a story about it.
Last night, I came to the realization that I don’t want to do what I’m doing anymore. I don’t want to be a writer anymore. I don’t want to write books. I don’t want to write this blog. I want to quit.
