Thursday, March 6, 1997
DILEMMA:
Writer’s block strikes all of us, inviting creative solutionsAnn
Mah
There comes a point in every student’s life when insanity sets
in. As an aspiring writer, my point of delirium periodically takes
the form of writer’s block. This week, for example, my column was
supposed to explore the rivalry between Northern and Southern
California, but halfway through a vapid and stale piece, I got the
middle-of-the-column blues. As a result, and in revenge, I have
decided to write about the plague that plagues me.
We all experience this evil. As a student of English literature,
I personally encounter it at least four to five times a quarter.
Whether it transpires during the beginning, middle or end of your
senior thesis, six- to eight-page paper or scientific abstract, it
is mind-numbing, finger-freezing and frustrating. It usually occurs
during the wee hours of the morning, around 3 or 4 when one is not
only senseless but also ravenous from overconsumption of caffeine.
Writer’s block drives me to endless snacking and viewing of
mindless TV reruns. And although top ramen and 4 a.m. episodes of
the "Love Boat" do not cure the ailment, they certainly provide a
worthwhile distraction. My paper on Shakespeare’s "Henry V" incited
a small crush on Gopher; I hear he’s now a U.S. senator.
Writer’s block can strike anywhere or anyone; it is not limited
to the garden-variety procrastinator. In fact, the annoying,
organized people who write their papers one week in advance
experience it also, albeit in an organized, one-week-in-advance
manner. And though I am an English student, I am also a student of
life and consequently have seen this malady affect all people in
all majors. In fact, my roommate, a political science student, is
also currently experience writer’s block. Although she is writing
about oil spills, and I am writing about my viewpoint, we still
share a common sisterhood.
But writer’s block is not limited to the allegedly lazy college
student. Instead, like any disease worth its salt, it ignores the
boundaries of age, race and religion. Almost every great writer has
suffered from this ailment, except perhaps Jack Kerouac. No, though
there is some debate as to whether or not Mr. K was a good writer,
he was certainly a prolific one. I imagine him at his typewriter,
fingers flying, ideas burning, paper careening; it is a beautiful
image and my jealousy is curbed only by the relief that I am not an
alcoholic. (Some Viewpoint columnists would say that I am jealous
because I am not an alcoholic, but I won’t name any names.)
Once, every other week, when my deadline looms upon the horizon,
I rather frantically call my editor with my usual writer’s block
complaint. Like many a good doctor, he prescribes his version of
"take two aspirins and call me in the morning," which has evolved
into "write for 10 minutes and then go to bed." And, while this
mild pacification may have worked the first couple of times, it is
certainly not going to quiet me anymore. Instead, I have taken to
bombarding the Viewpoint cubicle of 118 Kerckhoff Hall with
incessant notes, phone calls and e-mails so that I can get some
semblance of columnist attention.
Let me now call your attention to the fact that this piece has
arrived at that middle-of-the-column difficulty area. The flush of
initial fervor has faded and the downhill triumph of the finale has
not yet been reached. At this point, I usually type frantic,
meaningless sentences so that I can arrive at the end of the piece.
However, I do not want such trivialities to appear in this deep
exploration of the human psyche, and so I would like to take this
opportunity to extend a warm thank you to those faithful souls who
actually read my column, instead of just looking at the
picture.
Sometimes I stare at the 26 letters on my keyboard in absolute
amazement. Separately, these characters are completely meaningless
and it is up to me to combine them in a sensible, witty and amusing
manner. At times, this task absolutely overwhelms me, and when I
flip through the hundreds and hundreds of pages that compose a
novel, I am often overcome with admiration. If there is one thing I
have learned from writer’s block, it is respect for the hundreds of
men and women who have carved out careers as writers. At the risk
of beating a dead Viewpoint horse, I would like to say that the
canon of English literature may be sexist, racist and unjust, but
it is also an inspiring testament to the triumph of numerous
individuals over writer’s block.
And so, let us recap. Writer’s block sucks. Everyone has
experienced writer’s block. How does one overcome it?
There are numerous procedures. You could always try the "write
for 10 minutes …" method, but that is a rather trite technique
offered in all writer’s manuals. My father’s solution is to type
the word "the." He claims this one word will disturb the empty
screen and, as a result, jolt the mind into unparalleled
creativity. My roommate recently informed me that there are
writer’s block support groups. However, I find that the best
solution is procrastination. After numerous "Love Boat" reruns,
time eventually runs out and desperation sets in. I have heard that
desperate situations lead to desperate measures which probably
explains my current enchantment with Cliff’s Notes.
Writer’s block is an affliction that attacks the minds of all
aspiring writers. In exposing it as a vicious, creeping problem, I
have attempted to expel it from my own life. I have three papers
due next week. I know it will return.