I have, in the past, been fairly glib on the subject of "Writer's Block."
"Writer's Laze" I would call it, raising a knowing eyebrow at the camera, the audience, or whatever person in the conversation was on my side. It would always get a chuckle.
The arrogance, right?
Because, first of all, it's not laziness. And even in my arrogant days, when pressed, I would admit that it was not laziness. What it really is -- what it really is -- is depression. That's what Writer's Block is, it's depression. That same feeling that gets to people and makes it so they can't get out of bed in the morning no matter how much they might want to, that's the same weight that makes a writer unable to pickup a pen and just get to it.
And everyone has their own reasons for being depressed. I have my own reasons. Despite turning forty this year, despite this year being good in a lot of ways that are easily quantifiable... it's not a stretch to say that 2024 has been the worst year of my life thus far. I feel like this year has been bad for everyone. I feel like, the start with, there's been a certain hangover from 2020 and COVID. I feel like we all spent years so tensed up and fighting any malaise because we had to make it through for each other that the emotional backlash from it took a while to hit. When I see my other writer friends all having bad 2024s, that feels like it the starting point.
Adding into that, and another thing that everyone is experiencing: the economy, has been, rough. That's not me griping. I have no illusions about how lucky I am to be able to do what I do, and I don't believe that I am owed it by any means. But when inflation is happening and people don't have money for books or writing classes anymore you you run two businesses, one that manufactures books and one that hosts writing classes... yeah, it's going to hurt. The trickle-down of that pain is going to reach you eventually. Thankfully we prepared for it, but it's another depressive factor that has happened for everyone.
And for me, personally, this has been a year of dashed hopes. This has been a year of getting poked and prodded, of samples taken. This has been the year to find out that, for a small percentage of people, IV contrast fluid burns like hellfire. This has been a year of cups and vials that need to be filled. Of bad news, then good news, then bad news again, then good news, then bad news about how expensive the good news is. This year, conclusively, we have found out that I cannot have children.
And for someone like me, who has always adored children and most values the time spent with them and nurturing their development, that is hard.
And that's okay. We're going to go about it a different way. It's fine. The news is not what's been depressing, it's been the year of rollercoaster hopes that's depressing. It's been a year of lights at the ends of tunnels that all turned out to be trains. It's the year of discovering that there are options to fix even this, whatever is wrong with my pituitary that is causing these issues, but that they are all prohibitively expensive. It's all of that.
COVID hangover. Economy. Fertility. Like I always tell my writing students, Rule of Threes, right?
So amidst all that, should I be surprised that I've barely written 20,000 words this year? Hell, some writers would call that a lot. Some writers are smacking their heads right now. But for me, I'm used to 1,000 words a day. So 365,000 words a year. To me, I've only worked twenty days this year, despite getting up and trying every day.
So, what's the cure for this?
Pattern. Repetition. Making a schedule for myself and sticking to it. Starting low. Starting at 500 words a day and seeing if I have the energy for that. Maybe even lower, maybe starting at 250, before working up to 500, and finally 1,000 again. Making the goal something that can be achieved so that you can get that positive reinforcement, that endorphin buzz that will keep me coming back for more.
Because in the end what keeps us from writing is the weight of all those days we feel guilty for having not written. So we have to be kind to ourselves. We have to wipe the slate clean, start fresh with a new Day One, and say: starting today, I will set a goal and achieve it. And tomorrow. And the next day.
I'm not sure if this is the start of that. I may be kind to myself and leave it until 2025. We'll see. And at the end of the day, I should solace myself with the reminder that my previous rate over years means that I have at least five books finished that have yet to be released. So this year won't result in a "disruption of service" as it were, ha.
But yeah. Writer's Block is real, in that, depression is real, and sometimes we push ourselves too hard and we burn out. I really hope to be back on the horse soon. Maybe writing this starts it. We'll just have to see, won't we? That's all we can do, be kind to ourselves and see.
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