“In the words of Depeche Mode: Enjoy the silence. Seek out John Cage’s 4’33’’. Or maybe read “Not Writing” by Anne Boyer. Daily, we are inundated with language, content, noise. I don’t always want to join the chorus. But, if the silence is too much (sometimes it is), and if I feel there is something unnameable holding me back, something I would prefer to name, then I try to meet my frustration and consider the conditions of my speechlessness, an aversion to words.
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.
“Our present moment is in turmoil. It’s understandable that I have felt frozen in place, unable to take action, to set my mind in order. What act of creation should I pursue; what matters most to me, to humanity?
“Many things inspire me to write or help to get me out of a non-writing funk. Some are obvious, like reading other writers, especially poets, to get me re-excited about language and wanting to put down words. Some are less obvious, like sadness. I’m not sure I can recommend sadness as motivation, and I don’t imagine it would work for everyone, but I’ve found that I’m most prolific when I’m in an emotionally heavy place. I don’t mean rock-bottom sadness, because when that happens, even reading can feel like pulling myself uphill.
“I am often asked, who are you reading? Although I make a habit of walking around with books when I am working on a poem, I use the writers more as company, carrying them like an ‘in case of emergency’ policy so I don’t ever feel stuck. This makes it difficult to provide an answer that would satisfy one’s curiosity about my sources of inspiration. It’s also a difficult question to answer because the ‘who’ is often not another writer.
“When I get stuck while writing, I change my surroundings. If I’ve been working at the pine kitchen table for a few weeks, I’ll switch to writing on my bed. If I’ve been working on the bed, I’ll migrate to the office. Changing the view from the watercolor on the bedroom wall to the quote ‘Never a Day Without a Line’ (attributed to Horace on the sign, but to others elsewhere) tacked up in my office triggers a new set of associations in my mind. So, too, does reorienting myself toward or away from a window.
“Whenever I’m stuck, I call up a friend. Not to chat or commiserate, but to work. Specifically, to do their work. My only reliable solution for writer’s block is to set aside my draft and pick up someone else’s.
My chapter sucks. Hey Laura, send me your latest chapter.
I’m bored with my research. Hey Sindya, need a fact checker?
I don’t want to write today. Hey Robyn, here’s why you should write today.
“I think of writer’s block as a bubble, a physical thing I can step out of. When I am stuck or when the words sound hollow and wooden, I stop trying to write and instead try to regain my rhythm in movement. I physically change something. Sometimes it’s my location; I try working in a different room in my house, on the patio if the weather allows or away from home at a writers studio. Other times I move away from the work altogether by taking long walks around a lake, or by baking or cooking.
“When I get stuck on a project or between things, my first reaction is to grumble around the house and act like the world has come to an end. Once I’m through that stage, I return to this ever-evolving list of ‘books that matter to me,’ which I keep on a torn notebook page tacked above my desk: Pedro Páramo, the Grimm’s tales, My Ántonia, The Leopard, Darkmans, Sula, By Night in Chile, another dozen or so. I feel like everyone has a list like this, whether they’ve written it down or not.
“I’ve struggled with writer’s block most of my life, but writing my novel, Beauty, taught me a lot. What got me in the flow of the writing—and helped me to stay there—was taking a shoemaking class. The protagonist in Beauty adores couture and boots. I, on the other hand, thought couture and high-end, luxury line products were elitist and snooty, and extravagantly expensive. $1200 for a pair of boots? No, thank you. I’ll make them myself.
“What motivates me to write? The honest answer is perhaps a little dark: I imagine the feeling of great regret I’ll have to live with, if I don’t write the book that I know I can write. The wish to avoid that regret feels like fuel. Still, on days when writing feels impossible (too many days now, during this pandemic) a good thing to do is touch the world of my new book by reading it, tinkering with a word, rearranging a sentence. It feels vital to keep the world of the book animate in my mind, the characters itching to tear ahead and stayed only by my hand.