Why Do You Agonize Over Writing?

“Write What You Know.”

Interesting advice!

What DO you know? Actually, you know a lot more than you think.

If you’re writing fiction, you probably know all that you need to know. What you desperately want to do is to get started. Writer’s Block?

Probably that what it seems like. But in truth there is no “Writer’s Block”. It’s all a function of perspective.

Do you agonize about what you write? Do you write a sentence and then re-write it to make it “perfect”? How do you know when it’s “perfect”?

A better question is “How do you suspend disbelief while you are writing”?

For example, when I prepared this piece, its draft copy was replete with little red squiggles everywhere. Every line looks like its bleeding red ink. And so it was: I don’t care (while I’m writing) if what I’ve written is spelled correctly. I don’t even care if it doesn’t hang together. Those are steps I’ll take when I get around to editing it.

My objective for this draft is to put down at least 2,500 words in under 2 hours. My goal is to do those 2,500 words in less than an hour. But if I can maintain a writing speed of 1,200 words an hour, I can write a 36,000 word story in just under 30 hours. By writing 2 hours a day, that’s only 15 days worth of writing!

A novel is around 50,000 words. At 1,200 words an hour, I can write that in just over 40 hours. To write that novel in 30 days, I only have to write less than 2 hours a day!

So, what’s stopping me? A story idea? What should I write about? How should I write about?

Questions, questions. “Who cares,” say I. “Let’s just go and do it.”

For example, I like to write action stories, sometimes mysteries, and sometimes thrillers.

But where to start?

Here’s an idea. Last week I took an audio test to determine if I was a candidate for hearing aids (My wife vociferously and emphatically says “Yes!!).

Boring material, you say? Let’s explore it further. How about this story fragment:

The hearing test was going smoothly. Eleanor Brightwater had completed the “When you hear the tone, press the button” part. She was now sitting quietly with her eyes closed as the audiologist intoned,

“Say the word ‘bat'”. “Bat”.

“Say the word, ‘run.” “Rune”.

“Say the word, “like'”. “Bike”.

There was a pause.

Then she heard in a softer voice, ‘Say the word ‘knife’.” Knife”.

“Say the word, ‘Murder'”. “Mother”.

“Say the word, ‘kill'”.

Her eyes flew open. Looking through the booth’s bulletproof glass window, the first thing she saw was the audiologist slumped half out of his chair, an ugly hash on his forehead that extended down to a line around his neck, and then to a sea of red that had stained his white lab coat.

The second thing she saw was a grinning apparition with pointy teeth, waving a butcher’s knife in one hand and strangling a microphone in the other. It gave a maniacal giggle, then stuck its tattooed tongue out at her.

Eleanor screamed, and clawed the earphones from her head. She lurched against the booth’s door, but it wouldn’t budge, pinned by some heavy object outside.

She beat on the glass until her fists began to bleed.

Sobbing hysterically, she tried to rib the booth-mounted char loose.

The apparition jumped up and down, repeatedly striking the audiologist and the desk, giggling maniacally. It shrieked at her and slapped the booth’s window with the knife.

She knew what it wanted to do to her, but she was powerless to repel.

[ now… how would you fill in the next paragraph?]

So far, I’ve written under 700 words of just over a total of 1200 words for this article. It took me less than 45 minutes to compose. Another 15 minutes to go back and correct the spelling. I’m not beating my time, but neither am I at a loss for words. The words are all there, neatly assembled, packaged, and reeling out as if I were reading them off of an uncoiling ticker tape.

And you can do this, too.

All you have to do is to believe that you can do it.

And practice.

And write.

And write some more.

But let’s go back to “How Do I Start?’

Here are some helpful steps:

Step #1: Take a blank piece of paper (lined is OK, as you may desire. Using a computer is optional) and sharp pencil without an eraser.

Step #2: Pick up any book you have at hand. Open it randomly and select a paragraph.

Step #3: Start copying that paragraph. Write down the first 50 words or so.

Step # 4: Close the book. Write a sentence that completes the last thought that you copied from the book.

Step #6: Continue writing, forgetting about spelling errors, grammatical constructions and the other ‘ilities’ that make up what other people think is good prose.

Step #7: Write for at least 1 hour before stopping.

Se, you’ve begun!

Now you can go back and spell check what you wrote. Punctuate it as you may desire, or toss it all in the recycling bin. The act of writing is more important that what you wrote.

Now, let’s say you want to extend beyond starting copying something. OK, let’s try another story.

Think of your last pleasant vacation. Visualize yourself being there. In your mind’s eye, see the surroundings. Then write a one sentence description about anything you see.

My last trip to England, I flew into Heathrow, and took the express train to Paddington Station.

[I continue the thought thusly… ]

When I exited the train, the first thing that caught my eye was a Paddington Bear shop. In the window was an oversized statue of Mr. Paddington Bear, himself, holding his ubiquitous suitcase.

“Hello, Mr. Bear! Where are you off to this time?” I said.

Paddington Bear turned to me and said in a melodious voice, “I’m off to Australia and New Zealand! Never been there, but I’ve heard it’s a lovely trip.”

“But you’re from Patagonia,” I said. “Have you been back there?”

“No, not since I left, many years back,” he replied.

“Don’t you send posts to them to let them know what’s happening and where you are?”

Sorrowfully, Paddington looked down at his brown shows. “I can’t write,” Paddington Bear said with a sigh. Then he perked up, “But my Author does! I’ll get him to send some posts. He’s good at that sort of things. And I know my kinfolks back home are wondering what’s become of me. Thank you for the suggestion!”

Then his shoulders drooped again. “But they can’t read, either,” he said as a single tear coursed down his furry nose, plopping on the marble statue base.

“How can that be?” I asked. “After all, someone had to write that note that ‘s around your neck!”

“You’re right,” and he brightened up. “I’ll bet someone down there can do it! Thank you for the suggestion.”