Writing Words, Repelling Evil

whimsyrachy:

I’ve seem to be hitting writer’s block far too often now. My grade in my creative writing class is suffering because i don’t turn in anything because i’m never really satisfied with anything i do. all my good ideas seem to turn into bad ones once i write it down. How do you get pass writers…

neil-gaiman:

You turn off your inner critic. You do not listen to your inner police force. You ignore the little voices that tell you that it’s all stupid, and you keep going.

Your grade isn’t suffering because your writing is bad, it’s suffering because you aren’t finishing things and handing them in. 

So, finish them and hand them in. Even if a story’s lousy, you’ll learn something from it that will be useful as a writer, even if it’s just “don’t do that again”.

You’re always going to be dissatisfied with what you write. That’s part of being human. In our heads, stories are perfect, flawless, glittering, magical. Then we start to put them down on paper, one unsatisfactory word at a time. And each time our inner critics tell us that it’s a rotten idea and we should abandon it.

If you’re going to write, ignore your inner critic, while you’re writing. Do whatever you can to finish. Know that anything can be fixed later.

Remember: you don’t have to be brilliant when you start out. You just have to write. Every story you finish puts you closer to being a writer, and makes you a better writer.

Blaming “Writer’s Block” is wonderful. It removes any responsibility from the person with the “block”. It gives you something to blame, and it sounds fancy.

But it’s probably more honest to think of it as a combination of laziness, perfectionism and Getting Stuck. If you’re being lazy, don’t be. If you’re being a perfectionist, don’t be. And if you’re stuck, figure out where the story went off the rails, or what you got wrong, or where you need to go deeper, or what you need to add to make it work, and then start writing again.

I feel like it has been much too long since I’ve read Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae’s poem, In Flanders Fields, which was written the day after he observed the death of his friend and fellow officer, Lieutenant Alexis Helmer.

Something happens to you when you read it, or, at least, something happens to me. Time seems to slow down during this very short poem, giving it a larger presence than the total amount of characters held therein. The words hold so much weight, and one can’t help but feel them in your heart as your eyes flicker across each and every phrase. “Haunting” is a word I’d use to describe it, but not in a horrible way even though its topic is the result of the utter horrors of war.

In Flanders Fields serves to remind us that there were people, normal every day you-and-me type people who, before being whisked off to war, woke up every day, enjoyed the touch of a loved one, knew the sadness of loss, walked down the street to see a friend, rode a bike to a baseball field with one hand on the handle bars and the other holding a glove and bat, knew a parent’s embrace, tasted ice cream, laughed at a magic trick, trained a dog to fetch a stick, knew riches and depression and had experiences.

And, eventually, they knew they were dead, even before a bullet or an explosion or a piece of shrapnel or a blade took their lives. They knew.

I have not known war first hand. My children have not known war first hand. And yet there is still war, and soldiers, men and women alike, still go head long into the battle knowing that they are dead.

To the brave and the fallen, my heart and thoughts go out to you. I will never be able to repay the debt that is owed, but I offer you this as a small token:

You have my eternal thanks, and I will never forget.

- Derek Mohninger