Here’s a writing problem I often have. I finish writing a scene. I accomplish what the scene set out to do (or not, I’m not perfect). I end on a dramatic note, a joke or a cliffhanger. I stop, satisfied. Then I have the damnedest time starting another scene.
I don’t necessarily have this problem with blog posts. Monday I wrote a post about registering for the DARE 5K, turned a page in my notebook and wrote a post about the run I had taken that morning. Then again, that doesn’t always happen either. Sometimes I finish a blog post and stop.
I suppose I would avoid the problem in my novel if I worked from an outline. I could just move on to the scene that comes next or even pick a scene several Roman numerals down the page. In short, I would know what else was going to happen. In the blog, I could make a list of future topics to choose from.
In the novel I am currently working on, I only kind of sort of know what is going to happen. And I keep changing it and adding things. What’s that about? Regarding my blog, well that’s about my life and if you think that’s ever going to proceed in an orderly fashion, you clearly have no understanding of my character.
I don’t know why I’m even writing a blog post about this. Whenever you talk about a writing problem (or any other problem for that matter), all kinds of people are ready to chip in all sorts of advice, comprising quite a range of helpfulness and well-meaningness (my computer says well-meaningness is not a word, but what does a computer know?).
On the other hand, I had to write something. There I was, sitting next to my notebook, pen in hand, poised as it were for literary exercise. I have learned that if one writes any words at all, one can often sleaze over into writing about what one originally wanted to.
That is just one trick, however. Another school of thought says one should do something strictly non-verbal: clean the house, play an instrument, go for a walk. Everything will fall into place.
Frankly, I do both things. I sit at my job doing my work, which is strictly non-verbal. Then on my break I sit at my notebook and write… what I can. It sometimes makes for a very satisfying day.
Oh dear, that sounded like the end of my blog post. Now I’m stuck again.
Mohawk Valley Girl 