Let Me Write Nonsense: A Fun Guide to Getting Out of Writer’s Block and Making Tasty Jams!

DISCLAIMER:

Beware, this may just turn out to be a brutally self-aware post about my writing methods and such, which is very much what a modern, self-indulgent Generation-Y writer would do. But here’s the twist: I am a modern, self-indulgent Generation-Y writer, so SUCK IT BITCHEZ.

Have you ever experienced writer’s block? Have you fallen out of love to find that you can no longer write? Ever had The Constipation? Yes, THE constipation. It’s a thing. It’s been around for a while. It smells. You think it’s painful. (You obviously haven’t had an arm ripped brutally from your body by a bear). Ever found yourself loathing articulate hipsters writing all that shit that clearly isn’t going to shape any world views, or even come close to being this generation’s De Beauvoir, Ginsberg, Orwell, Keurac or hell, even Shakespeare? (Seriously though, if you think that you could be this generation’s any-one-of-those-writers, stop right now, and get back to the Tumblr from whence you came). Do you notice sulphurous pits of loathing bubbling up towards people with literary diarrhoea? Jealously scoffing at hundred-note poems that “aren’t even that good anyway. I write so much better than that”. Do you find yourself wondering when your block will end so you can finally show all those damn hipsters what good writing is?

If you answered “YES” to one or more of these questions, then you’re in the right place! Keep on reading lass/lad/bonny child! (Circle all that apply). If you answered “NO” to all of the above, you’re a rotten liar, and you need to be here more than everyone else, hipster. Either that or you didn’t read through that paragraph properly. If you didn’t read that paragraph properly because your hipster-senses were tingling and you were so absorbed in those “I could do better” thoughts, then stop. Go directly to jail. If you pass GO do not collect your $200. The rest of the class, this way please.

Younglings, I’ve got some news for you. That block? It sucks. And while you’re thinking about that block, and reading other amateur works so freely available on the Internets, and wondering where your muse went, or trying to write and only coming out with shit, you’re probably not going to get out of that block. Why? Because you’re seeing your potential in others, and they’re doing something with it when you’re not. You’re jealous. Jealous doesn’t make for beautiful, insightful writing. And in 80% of all cases, being in love doesn’t either (I’ll explain that below).

First, jealousy. We’ve covered the potential thing, and why when you see someone else doing what you could be doing you feel jealous. I’m going to tell you something: you’re uncomfortable with the feeling of failure that skips hand in hand with seeing someone else use your talent and do something awesome with it. Why? Not because you’re an idiot and shouldn’t be comparing yourself to others, because we all do that, but because you’re an idiot who expects to go through life without ever facing a block. I’m really happy that we’ve come to this realisation, and I’mma let me finish, but I just gotta say that every person who has ever created anything has peaks and troughs in their creative processes. We humans aren’t machines, we have blood beating through our hearts and brains and we have to accept that sometimes, you need to go some time without creating something in your chosen field, so that when you do start writing again, you not only have a wicked new perspective on things, but hopefully some new words, ideas, and if you’re really lucky, some new pumped up kicks.
I know this from experience. I go through writer’s block every March. It sucks balls bigger than mighty Zeus’, but each year, after I’ve worked some things out, I find I write better. In the meantime, I work on my other skillz, because I’m a girl who likes to have a few plates spinning at once. This year, which happened to be the worst of the blocks, as bad as a long, hard winter (that’s what she said. (Winter is Coming.) (That’s also what she said.)), I took up fantasy cake baking. I learned Greensleeves on ukulele and I started work on a few series of illustrations. I also started making jams, which is fantastic and I fully recommend it. So, when you can’t write, don’t mope and don’t hate. It won’t get you anywhere except kind of mad and really jealous and you’ll be really terrible to be around and those other kids won’t value your pumped up kicks. Think about it.

Now, let me explain why I don’t think that being in love makes for good writing. Whilst being in love provides one with a fantastically poetic world-view, unless you’re supremely talented, you’ll find that everything you write is about the object of your love. And this gets old after a while, because unlike you, the rest of the world finds little need to read in twelve different styles and a haiku of your lover’s birth mark, which just so happens to look like a cloud that looks like a dolphin. So unless you’re Milan Kundera, who can make three pages of cooking pasta heart-wrenchingly beautiful, stop. Oh, don’t stop writing, by all means, if you can pull your attention away from those dazzling eyelashes, write and publish away, using your divine talent. And if you can’t, continue writing, but for your future dignity, avoid publishing your tsunami of lover’s drool.

Exhibit B. of my case against writing in love is titled, “When Love is Lost”.

Ah, I see you know what I’m talking about, that achingly dismal “I loved you but you broke me in ways that even physicists didn’t think possible, so I’ma just sit here and wallow in my youthful waste of a life which now has no meaning because you, love of my life (my WHOLE adult life, duh, we met like, two-three years ago, which is like, I’m pretty sure dinosaurs still walked the earth back then, you know) are gone”. Call me cynical, but that rhyming iambic pentameter? Unless you can put it to a sweet hip-hop groove and can turn it into something Horrorshow might do (except let’s face it, they’d do it so much better), just don’t. Why? I call it the Van Gogh Rule. Richard Curtis wrote that Van Gogh transformed the pain of his tormented life into ecstatic beauty. “Pain is easy to portray, but to use your passion and pain to portray the ecstasy and joy and magnificence of our world… no one had ever done it before”. Van Gogh had a pretty hectic life, but he was also an artistic genius. So, yes, you have pain, we all do. Pain is something every person on this planet can relate to. But just because everyone relates to it, doesn’t mean you need to write about it in order to pull some heartstrings. Instead of wallowing in your loss, to turn it around and to create something that showcases the beauty of the world, the brightness that gives reason to passion and the godsdamned reasons why life is bloody worth living.

Now chillens, let me give y’all some Quick-and-Easy Tips © to get rid of that pesky writer’s block AND make a tasty homestyle jam! (Results not guaranteed, and the writer takes no responsibility for failed results).

1. Take responsibility! This means you’re going to have to stop your angsty youthful loathing of anyone who shows even the remotest bit of talent. Collect fruits of your choice, and cut up. Become absorbed in your knife work. Release that tension. The larger your fruit pieces, the chunkier the jam. By taking responsibility for your own block, and accepting that you’re going though a dry spell, you can at least start to do something about it that isn’t seething in your own denial (and hey, if you’re going through a dry spell everywhere, I hear there be fan-fiction you can turn to in your preferred area that might just pull you though. I’ve even come across some biblical fan-fiction if that’s the sort of thing you’re into, and you should avoid it at all costs. Just don’t even go there. I mean, who even writes that stuff anyway? It’s just messed up. I don’t actually like fan-fiction at all, but I mean, if that’s your thang, go for gold, I guess).

2. Now is the time for stewing the fruit with some sugar on a medium to low heat. The juicier the fruit, the less water you add. Personally, I hate measuring things, so I just guess. If you’re fastidious and like measuring things, look up a proper jam recipe and go make proper, un-angsty-writers-block-jam. I also like adding unconventional liquids, like herbal tea (which you just leave the teabags to soak for a little bit and then take them out) and sangria, because I’m slightly insane.

3. Read! As the fairy godfather of fantasy, the all-mighty George R.R. Martin wrote, “A mind needs books like a sword needs a whetstone” (a WHETstone, not a WET stone). This means that you should be reading all the time. The thing about writers is that they read more than anything. You spend 70% of your time reading and 20% writing (10% of your time is especially reserved for writer’s-block-conserve). Work through a list of authors you like, books you want to read, etc., etc. Read the interviews on The Paris Review. Stay away from Tumblr, or any other internet place that you’ll find unpublished works. I say this because you need to get things into your mind that have actually been worked on and refined by both author and editor. You need this because you need to see what sort of imperfection is acceptable in published works. It builds your constraints and it shows you how the brilliant minds of literature have done things. Also stay away from bad, trashy reads unless you want your writing to read as bad and trashy. TRUTH.

4. Start writing nonsense. By this time your jam should have reached a thick consistency, and should be ready to pour into sterilised jars. Let them cool with the lids off (cover them with a tea towel, unless you like insects in your jam, which some people do. They’re quite nutritious) before refrigerating. Write the sort of nonsense that only you could come up with. Write about the things you like and the things you find funny and the things that make you feel good. Don’t aim for masterpiece level, don’t even aim for something everybody else will understand. By doing this you’ll start to get reacquainted with the way your mind works, and the sorts of things you as a writer really resonate with, and from there you can work your way up. And as soon as you’ve got yourself back into a rhythm, don’t go trying to conform to what other people like. You write because you need to express yourself, not because you need to express other opinions and worldviews, you silly fool.

So there we have it! Stop moping and hating, eat some jam, and go be less angsty. The world will seriously thank you for it. Seriously, we don’t need anymore tormented artist folk. And if you’re really struggling, come ‘round to my place and we’ll do some extra-special remedial cooking.