Randall Klein

“When I feel genuinely stuck in my writing, I find that it’s often because I’m bored.
Jump to navigation Skip to content
In this online exclusive we ask authors to share books, art, music, writing prompts, films—anything and everything—that has inspired them in their writing. We see this as a place for writers to turn to for ideas that will help feed their creative process.

“When I feel genuinely stuck in my writing, I find that it’s often because I’m bored.

“I have to listen to music while I write, and usually I play just one song at a time. I repeat it all day, often for weeks on end. Months, even. There’s one song that I replayed up to 30,000 times during the ten years I was writing The Incendiaries.

“I’m beginning to realize that the primary engine of my writing may be loneliness. I don’t want to recommend loneliness, however. So what I’ll say is that there are certain works I return to that make me want to write, that never fail to punch me in the gut and wash out my eyes.

“Writing tends to be a stressful activity. I worry when I’m not writing and when I am, I often wonder whether I’m just sending off lines of ink into some abyss.

“Writing is about finding a way in. And like in some hoary old fable, I must gather three items to be permitted entry. Here are the rules: 1. The items can be anything. They may be small things: an image, a snippet of dialogue, perhaps the twitch in a character’s cheek.

“When I’m stuck, and I keep writing, I make whatever I’m working on worse. So now, I’ve learned to spot the moments where I need to do what I don’t want to do, which is to leave. Leaving always helps. Usually I take the dog, and we walk. Anywhere and nowhere.

“I love limited edition Oreo cookies, which is to say I love novelty and play. So when I commit to writing a novel, an act steeped in routine and the grind, I inevitably run into problems.

“I’m a firm believer in low-stakes writing as a strategy for managing both writer’s block and the anxiety inherent to writing. When I’m stuck, if I’m wise enough to take the advice I give to my students, I return to free-writing, often by hand.

“When I feel stuck or stupid, afraid or inferior, to shake loose some words I turn to three things: 1. Paul Westerberg—solo, or with The Replacements. 2. Invisibility—more on that later. 3. Bourbon—two fingers, two cubes. I don’t admit to number three without some shame.

“Whenever my writing begins to feel boxed in, as if the words no longer possess any degree of freedom, trickling out painfully one by one, I remind myself of Grace Paley’s famous aphorism: ‘Everyone, real or imagined, deserves the open destiny of life.’ This is true for ourselves, certainly, but