When The Muse Is On Vacation: How To Break Through Writer's Block

I I love writing when the muse is in me, and the story just pours on the page. There I sit, playing Miniature God, my palate of colors shimmering, a whole world coming alive through my words. 

Then there are the times when the muse is on vacation. Of course, beginnings can always bite me--anybody working on their 67th version of chapter one? The one that can intrigue the reader in an instant, prefigure the entire thematic heart of the novel, and start at the exact right instant in the plot? 

But usually, Musie heads out of town when I'm trying to tackle something in the middle, a chunk of plot, how to get the character from here to there. 

At those times, I sit down and spew my frustration on the page, sometimes several days in a row. (See earlier post, Prune Juice For Writer's Block.) Here's an example: "I just can't figure out this idiotic character. My readers keep telling me she's depressing and not spunky enough, and they just want her to leave already, but what I'm exploring is why abused people stay, and what makes them leave. How do you make such a victim "spunky? Grrrrr. Obscenities. A verbally abused karate master. A verbally abused sky-diver? A verbally abused verbal abuse expert? No,no no no. The only possible answer would be to figure where this person used to have spunk before they were broken down. If she did, what did it look like? And where does that spunk still rear up in her life?" 

Often, that kind of free-flowing mind-play will break me through a small blockage.Sometimes, though, when the muse is really out of town, even day's long spews won't won't set the story free. For those days, I have to break out another tool, I have to write it badly. 

I know, I know, I"m not fond of it either. I dislike the stick figure characters that show up. I feel clunky about manipulating characters via sticks up their puppet behinds. It's not sweet and it's not fun. It's certainly not the "flow" feeling that can make writing almost an escape, another world, the long-missed equivalent of playing pretend with my very best childhood pretend friend. 

And yet, this clumsiness, this awkward ditch-digging, will soon enough set me free. If I keep on hacking at that rock-hard dirt, something I write will lure the muse back to me. 

Soon, she'll be peering over my shoulder, breathing further life into my tale. And then, once she's interested again, I can rewrite stuff, turn those sticks into sketches, the sketches into full-blown life. I can insert dialogue-only people into bodies that sweat and pulse and creak. I can tweak that stock character, shading him with parts of somebody I know,  in real life. I can change everything, move the whole scene elsewhere in the novel or short story, even cut it entirely. 

And once I've made that pass, I can go through again, (and sometimes again, and again, and again) but each time, that muse will be a little more interested in what I'm doing. Until, at the end, I will edit out every extraneous word, make sure each "he said," and "she said" is absolutely necessary, and lay in those last little bits of light and shadow, and hopefully, wind up with, well, don't we all dream of a masterpiece?

Prune Juice For Writing? What To Do When You're Stuck

I have a cluttered life, with many responsibilities and children begging me for keyboard time. Writer's Block is something I just can't afford. Usually, I wrote at my keyboard, on scraps of paper during minutes caught here and there, and after a big splurge and a gift from a friend, typing on my IPad.

If I get stuck on something, I begin my writing time by spewing my frustration and lack of motivation on the page, all my excuses, all my struggles with the writing. Usually two or three pages of that clears up the blockage. If not, I do it the next day, and on and on until I'm all cleaned out, just like eating dried figs keeps me clear with all that constipation matzo at Passover.

But trust me, I'm not perfect. As I posted to a new member of She Writes, a poet and professor named Brande McCleese, I've been stuck on something I started writing eight years ago, then stopped abruptly, perhaps when a baby was born. The writing shows a very clear vision, the characters pop, it's funny and different, and it's also an exploration of ethical approaches to life. You know how you can reread your work after a long time and it's startlingly fresh? You sort of remember writing it, but all the insecurities of yesterday's page--is it good, does it work, did I solve the problems--they're all gone and instead, you just read and enjoy, like it's somebody else's book?

And then, I stopped. About eighty pages in. Though I do remember the overarching plot I had, I have no idea what I wanted to do with two subplots. I've been researching ideas for one, but I've hesitated with moving in and doing the work. The vision was so clear, the characters seemed alive. Like real people. I don't want to "get them wrong," a mind-set that is the kiss of death when you're doing anything creative, because in creativity, there is no "right" way. Picking up Mr. Salt and Mrs. Pepper and having them talk to one another, using that four-year-old pretending voice, "how bout if you are the baby and I am the big sister," playing in the mud and coming up dirty really are the only answer to a creative struggle--making mistakes, trying this, trying that, saying the magic words--"what if?"

Instead, I've been thinking I had to buy an old keyboard for my old computer to see if I had any notes,
or spend more funds to get somebody to pull drafts off two old computers, a used laptop that's from that time or the desktop. Honestly, that's why I've been blogging almost every day. I have submitted my massive, complex manuscript to my dream publisher as well as a delightful and hard-working agent with vision, sending my great hulking baby off into the deep, echoing tunnel of not knowing their response. I have been working to research and query at least one other agent a day. (Though that's not always possible, I love research and learning about people, so it's actually interesting and fun--and nerve-wracking, of course.)

Maybe, though,  I just need to hit my existing keyboard several days in a row and write out my frustration. What if the two almost sisters are really. . .

What do you do to when you're stuck? Anybody have any suggestions?