Correspondence to Lorie Q

Hello Lorie,

I’ve recently been wrestling with a form of writer’s block, and thought a missive to a fellow writer might assist.

It’s not the form of writing suspension I’m accustomed to. In most cases, the block is a problem of not being able to transpose the ideas, whilst they build up behind the thick-tongued dam of inexpression. This time, it’s a form of paralysis which feels, (to me at least,) far more in tune with the struggles between the Titans and Gods of yesteryear. In my head, there are lightning bolts being hurled around like popcorn in a darkened cinema.

Have you ever been writing a piece, knowing full well where you intend it to go, how the story will unfold and how the characters will travel through it all, only for the story to deftly take the quill itself, and smoothly create it’s own way? I have. It happened once the germ of ideas had sprouted and matured to a point that the context, the subtext, ALL the text had suddenly clicked and created a far greater picture than what I had initially aimed for.

My pictures are mostly stick-figures. A starting point, but primitive.

This has happened to me. A character I had planned, profiled and prepped for the ensuing adventure has done the metaphysical equivalent of beating me to my house, barricaded the front door with themselves, and stated that we need to talk.

It’s like being stuck in Last Action Hero, a reality-defying oddity of storytelling, only it’s a Tom Hanks/ Meg Ryan flick, and Billy Crystal just turned up, very VERY unimpressed with us.

The pen, my implement, is effectively out of my hands. Anything I write feels forced, and I can feel his beady eyes on the back of my head, glowering at my attempts. (the eyes belong to my character, not Billy Crystal) I’ve offered the pen, but he only sneers in return, his face contorting and conveying his mocking of my work.

My writing life is turning into the kind of cubicle nightmare so eloquently displayed in Office Space. (I’ve lived through the other type of cubicle nightmare, seen in Cube. That was okay.) I need respite and I need it now.

He’s not aware of this, but by taking time out to write to you, I’ve had a chance to rally my thoughts and make a (quite literal) plan. Nothing exists in a vacuum, and so I will use the works around him to corner him, manipulate him, and get him back on track.

I’m gonna get him, like Matt Damon in the Adjustment Bureau. I’m also spending too much time on IMDB.

Wish me luck,


~ by nick on March 29, 2012.

3 Responses to “Correspondence to Lorie Q”

  1. Soooo, yes to all of the above? Been there, am there, really want out of there. And yes, I AM replying from my newly formed, but not yet developed, in a place yet to be discovered by those other than me and now apparently you, damn, I’m not ready for anyone to read because I haven’t said anything remotely interesting yet, blog. (Now, I’m totally out of breath.) Writer’s block is the worst and I say we band together, form a league, figure a strategy and annihilate it.

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