Surviving a Drought
By Kathleen McCleary | February 18, 2015 |
Flickr Creative Commons: Bert Kaufmann
I was sitting in D.C.’s Lincoln Theater about three months ago, listening to The Milk Carton Kids and Sarah Jarosz, talented folk musicians who sing some of the most gorgeous harmonies I’ve ever heard. The theater itself is a visual concert—a beautiful 1920’s-era building, with gold ceilings and crystal chandeliers and lovely arched moldings and walls covered in gold-patterned fabric. I wasn’t thinking about anything really—other than how good the music was, how lovely the theater was, how pleasant it felt to be in that particular place at that particular time.
And then I was struck by lightening.
Not literally. But the idea for a new novel came to me, all at once and fully formed, after months and months of the longest writing drought I’ve had in my life.
I’ve written before about how important it is for writers to take breaks from writing. But there’s a big difference between not writing to give yourself a break and not writing because you have no ideas and nothing to say and everything you write is dry and flat and uninspired. The first feels good. The second feels awful.
After I finished my third novel, I took a break from writing. I’d published two books in two years and been under deadline pressure for a long time and I needed a rest. And after my break I came back, ready to write better than I ever had before. I read books on how to write, everything from John Truby’s Anatomy of Story to Blake Snyder’s Save the Cat and Carolyn See’s Making a Literary Life. I underlined and took notes and wrote Wish Lists and Premises and Outlines and Character Studies. I developed Designing Principles and Themes and Heroes and Antagonists. I bought markers and index cards and sticky notes in 12 different colors and a magnetic white board. I wrote scenes on my index cards and outlined plots on my white board.
I had never been so organized and done so much preliminary thinking. But when I sat down to write, the story came slowly and involved a lot of false starts. I liked my characters, but I didn’t really know what they were doing or why. It took forever to get the main action off the ground.
Six months later I had 100+- pages, which I sent to my agent. She felt it wasn’t quite there but agreed to show it to my editor, who said she was sorry but this was not a book she was interested in.
Boom. I put the book in a drawer and focused on teaching and consulting. I tried to think of other ideas for other novels. I brainstormed with my critique group, and with writer friends. I wrote synopses. But nothing clicked. I thought maybe I was done. Three novels, all of which mattered to me, wasn’t a bad body of work. Perhaps the novel-writing phase of my life was over.
And then I went to that concert, and I have not stopped writing since. My agent loves the new book. I love it. And the message I’ve taken away from this all is that creativity is a mystery, and sometimes one form of creativity can unlock another. A month or two after my “aha!” moment, I ran across this comment, from Madeleine L’Engle: “Playing the piano is for me a way of getting unstuck, if I’m stuck in life or in what I’m writing. What it does is break the barrier that comes between the conscious and the subconscious mind. The conscious mind wants to take over and refuses to let the subconscious mind work, the intuition. So if I can play the piano, that will break the block, and my intuition will be free to give things up to my mind, my intellect.”
Similarly, Albert Einstein had a profound connection to the music of Mozart, and found in it the simple architecture and inner beauty that he sought to find in physics and theories of space and time. In a 2006 article in The New Yorker, Einstein’s oldest son, Hans Albert, was quoted discussing his father’s work habits: “’Whenever he felt that he had come to the end of the road or into a difficult situation in his work, he would take refuge in music. That would usually resolve all his difficulties.”
So if you’re stuck, make music. Listen to music. Go to the ballet. Go to a museum and wander amidst the paintings. Watch a movie. Experiencing and attending to creativity in every form is all part of the creative process. Drink it in. Soak it up.
The drought won’t last forever. I promise.
Have you experienced and escaped from a drought in your own writing? We’d love to hear your story.
Kathleen McCleary is the author of three novels—House and Home, A Simple Thing, and Leaving Haven—and has worked as a bookseller, bartender, and barista (all great jobs for gathering material for fiction). A Simple Thing (HarperCollins 2012) was nominated for the Library of Virginia Literary Awards. She was a journalist for many years before turning to fiction, and her work has appeared in The New York Times, The Washington Post, Good Housekeeping, Ladies Home Journal, and USA Weekend, as well as HGTV.com, where she was a regular columnist. She taught writing as an adjunct professor at American University in Washington, D.C., and teaches creative writing to kids ages 8-18 as an instructor with Writopia Labs, a non-profit. She also offers college essay coaching (https://thenobleapp.com), because she believes that life is stressful enough and telling stories of any kind should be exciting and fun. When she’s not writing or coaching writing, she looks for any excuse to get out into the woods or mountains or onto a lake. She lives in northern Virginia with her husband and two daughters and Jinx the cat.
Beautiful, Kathleen, and so important. I call it “cross-training” and even “cross-pollination” to give time to some other creative endeavor, especially during times of drought. Thanks!
I love the term “cross-training,” Katrina! What a great way to describe it. Next time I head over to the National Gallery of Art to take in a few paintings, I’m going to tell everyone I’m off cross-training. Thanks.
What an interesting way to cure writer’s block. I have several musician friends and I am always fascinated when I compare notes with then on the creative processes of song writing and fiction writing. I’ve had friends tell me that a song just came to them and I have had similar experiences with stories, but not frequently. It doesn’t happen any time you wish for it. I never thought to give music a try when I get stuck. I took piano lessons for three years and playing the piano is on my bucket list. Perhaps I should get back to it sooner rather then later. Stretching one’s creative mind and being open to art in all forms is good for the soul and can have unanticipated benefits in sparking creativity. Good luck with your latest book and thanks for this post.
I’d be interested to hear if you do go back to the piano what effect, if any, it has on your writing. I, too, am fascinated by the creative process in all its forms. I have a friend who creates beautiful wedding cakes, each a work of art. She says she has to listen to music as she crafts each cake, because it opens up her creative channels. Thanks for your kind words.
Kathleen,
I was struck by your words, “I wasn’t thinking about anything really.” It’s been my experience that our best words come when we get out of our minds, into the fertile silence of our own inner wisdom. I use meditation to help me do that, and it has transformed my creativity.
I wonder, though, what else was going on during that time when your words dried up. Life shifts, changes, transformation of some kind? I believe that writer’s block is really life block, and that it reflects back to us how we need to grow and change. I would love to hear more about your experience and if you were also experiencing “life block.”
Thanks,
Alix
Very perceptive, Alix. I agree, writer’s block often reflects life block. And yes, I was in the midst of some stuckedness in my own life. I’m never sure, though, if solving life block unleashes my creativity, or if writing and pouring myself out into fiction works to unstick my life. Anyway, I’m sure there’s a symbiotic relationship there.
I love u-tube. When I feel stuck, I put Annie Lennox on the screen belting out ‘Would I Lie to You?’ Or maybe Yo Yo Ma. Or Jorma Kaukonen singing ‘Genesis’. These are proven ice melters for me. There are others. They break me open. They kick a hole in the wall. Walking works, too, by the river or in the woods. And sewing! I make these handbags…
I love this, Susan. (I’m a big Annie Lennox fan, too). My daughter, who is a terrific writer, has recently taken up quilting. And walking (and, in the summer, canoeing) also quiet me in a way that allows the stories and ideas to flow.
Kathleen-
What does it mean to be stuck? I’ve been stuck and it feels like being on a dead end road, but instead of turning around I try to keep going down that road.
The answer, for me, has always been to take a different road.
Exactly, Donald! But I’m also a believer in the idea that no creative effort is wasted time. The six months I spent on a novel that didn’t work out were training and practice, some of it at an unconscious level, for the novel I’m writing now. The key is knowing when to stop going down that same road and turn in a new direction.
Lovely post. I’m often on deadline so there’s no time to be stuck. And if I’m stuck on a project I switch to another. But music … it speak to a different part of the brain. I find that playing the piano, singing, listening to the birds and bugs (it can be a symphony on my back porch), taking a walk, even cooking and cleaning, all help me get out of the rut. But at my desk, there’s no music.
I love including the symphony of nature—another wonderful drought-breaker. And cooking is yet another one of my favorite different paths.
I’m so glad you were struck by lightning — and also that it wasn’t literally. I’ve had a long drought myself and recently come out of it. For me it wasn’t so much a lightning strike as a gradual turning on of lights until it was clear enough that (1) I should be writing (2) I should be writing one story in particular and (3) I wanted to write again. I guess the key for me was in not shutting the door to writing completely; I left room for it to sneak in. Also, the story I’m working on now didn’t materialize as a working idea until I started to think about another story–almost as if it felt threatened and decided to mend its flaws or risk being discarded.
Love this, Therese, and so happy to hear you’re writing again. I can’t imagine a world without your words in it.
Dee
Thank you, Denise!
I”m so glad you’re writing again, Therese. I think that’s always the key—leaving the door cracked just enough that the light can shine in. I said several times during my drought, “I think I’m done writing fiction,” but I never really BELIEVED it. I love it that your story became insistent once you threatened to leave it.
Great article, Kathleen! I respect how you allow yourself time, to let your focus sway when necessary, but then brush yourself off and get back at it. Kudos to you.
Dee Willson
Author of A Keeper’s Truth and GOT
Many thanks, Denise. Don’t know how much credit I deserve; sometimes I think our stories choose us. ;-)
Thanks so much for this post, Kathleen. I’m at the approximate pre-lightning strike place where you’d been, with two books in two years, feeling a bit drained from that as well as the several months invested in developing book three that was passed on. Trying to say this is a good thing because I am freer to promote book two and knowing full well that sitting with this discomfort is part of the creative process yet deep inside quaking from all the uncertainty.
I appreciate that receiving a novel fully formed is a rare gift and one you must be prepared to act on. But I’d also like to put my wish out into the universe: may lightning strike twice. I’m ready!
I confess to some mild exaggeration when I say the novel came to me “fully formed.” I am a confirmed pantser, not a plotter, so it would be more accurate to say that the subject, main character, theme, and general direction of the novel came to me. And of course there have been myriad surprises in the writing of it ever since. Hope your idea finds you after your well-deserved break.
All that, Kathleen- what you wrote is all that, and no surprise because you are too.
I get the droughts mainly because life so effectively intervenes, but no question a lot of my “writing” time is spent just dabbling, polishing, re-reading instead of pressing on. Like now. It’s all good, all counts- and I can literally feel moments when, doing nothing related to writing there’s something happening in my brain that’s part of the story. It’s the same feeling you’d get if you were walking along one side of a thick gauze curtain, and caught a glimpse of something from the corner of your eye- bigger than you- moving on the other side. There’s no shape to it, no place for it, maybe it’s just an emotion that needs to be there. But I can literally feel it settling in place, and waiting for the nouns and verbs to show up later. They always do.
Walking is often enough to do it, just moving around. Exercise and thought are both so rare for me! Put them together and boom.
Of course, on a deadline I’d probably have to kill myself… long live the day-job dilettantes.
Hey, Will. I love the analogy of glimpsing something through a curtain. I agree that everything—writing, walking, showering, dancing, singing, playing Scrabble—is all part of the process. That’s what makes writing such a wonderful avocation.
Nice post, Kathleen, and very timely for me. The ink is barely dry (figuratively speaking!) on my fourth novel and I’m already starting to worry that I don’t yet have any firm idea about where to go with my next one. I do have a title. (I always start with a title, because it contains the name of a highway and the highway determines the location and some of the characters.) What I don’t have is a good plot, which is crucial to a murder mystery.
I like the idea of using music to unlock creativity. Come to think of it, playing the violin was one of the ways that Sherlock Holmes helped himself solve mysteries. Last year I brought my violin (okay, fiddle) into my office in case I needed to do the same, and it’s sat here gathering dust ever since. Maybe it’s time I gave it a try!
Thanks for sharing!
Oooh, I hope you take up the violin again and it unleashes wonderful new books in you, as well as some great music. I tried—unsuccessfully—to learn to play ONE song on the violin in college for a role I had in a play. It’s left me with great admiration for anyone who can actually coax music from a violin. Best of luck in your all your creative endeavors. ;-)
Congratulations on your breakthrough, Kathleen. I too find music sparks creativity when my writing stalls. What I’m curious about is what you encountered with all that prep work, and if you believe there’s a danger of doing too much prep work at the expense of meaningful writing? I especially recognized the problem of misaligned characters. Thanks for your helpful post.
Hi, Vincent. I think the process of crafting a novel is very individual. I wrote my first three novels with little or no formal “prep” work in terms of outlines or character sketches, etc. I tried very hard with the next one to craft themes and ideas and revelations, etc. BEFORE I wrote, and ultimately I was doing little more than trying to squeeze the proverbial square peg into a round hole. For me, writing fiction works best as a process of discovery, but I know that’s not true for everyone. I guess the key is to find a way of working that plays to your strengths, no matter what other writers are doing and not matter what the current zeitgeist may be. Good luck!
Great post, Kathleen. I have 3 completed novels, but none are published. I am currently polishing my first book and looking forward to working on the other two. Whether you are published or unpublished writers can have dry spells. Sometimes rejection drove me into a dry spell where I would abandon my work and get a job. Life intruded also with family needs. But this time I am hoping for lots of rain (no lightning) so that my work will flourish and maybe in time I will be published. Thanks for your thoughts.
Kathleen,
For me, that time spent between stories requires distancing. Between writing my current story, which I formally began in August last year, and moving on from the previous, I spent time taking walks under the trees, drawing trees (which is a hobby of mine), reading lots of craft books to give myself a new angle. I joined Writer Unboxed and enjoyed daily inspiration and reflection. I had an idea where I wanted to go next, and in fact I spent about a month plotting out a story that wasn’t the one I ended up pursuing.
Then one day, continuing my ritual of reflective walks and early morning coffee, lightning struck for me in the form of Jan O’Hara’s WU post on McKee’s Negation of the Negation. Out of no where I connected to a different story. It was not a new story. In fact, it was the fourth story I’d wanted to write. The key insight for me is that I’M FREE! Why does it have to be the fourth? Instead of waiting to get to the story that calls my heart, I took some other great craft book advice (thank you, Mr. Maass!) and picked the story that I wanted to write more than anything else. Two months of rumination later, I wrote the first scene. And the engine was chugging again.
Kathleen, I haven’t been to the Lincoln Theater but as a DC resident, I have enjoyed Bohemian Caverns. U Street is a great neighborhood, isn’t it?
I agree that sometimes you need to take a step back or at least let life take you in a different direction when your writing doesn’t seem to be happening (and like a lot of people who have commented on this post, music is a magical way of opening up those creative gates).
Forcing yourself to write can be like giving yourself an unhealthy kind of performance anxiety. Sometimes, you’re just not ready, and if you force it, the words won’t wield the magic you’re used to.
I really appreciated and agree with one of the comments about whether writer’s block really reflects a life blockage. We keep hearing that there is no such thing as writer’s block and maybe that is true. But obviously things happen in our lives that impact the amount of time and the quality of our writing, so making sure we establish enough balance between writing and all our other important priorities is the best way to be successful.
Thanks for this thoughtful post!
Joe
I love reading about other writer’s processes. What came through for me was that you were trying to force a square peg into a round hold with that book your agent didn’t like. And when you finally came to the process organically and allowed it to flow, it did unlock something we need in the creative process.
I haven’t felt blocked in the same way you describe. I’ve felt stymied by work – also consulting and teaching – and unable to find the time when faced with more pressing concerns, but the need to write builds in me and after a while I can’t ignore it. After one published non-fiction and another to be released in July, I have been without a writing project for several months. I have a number of ideas, but no particular direction. All I know is that I have to write again, and when that happens I can’t ignore it.
My longest drought was from freshman year in college (1963) until 1992–all due to a professor’s comment that I allowed to penetrate. I’d written a short-short story, and he hated it, and ridiculed me in front of the class. I stopped writing.
I still have the story, and when I reread it, I see my love of spare language, my care in choosing words, the bones of something that could have emerged with encouragement.
In 1992, I was hit by a huge falling oak branch that almost killed me. Post-surgery, I had a night nurse in the recovery room who accused me of being a drug addict, and was abusive in other ways–she was rough, for one.
As soon as I left the hospital I crafted a thoughtful letter exposing her attitude, and asked her to meet with me. She refused. Nonetheless, the blow from that tree cracked writing open again, and I haven’t stopped. I returned to school and earned an MFA in Creative Writing at Antioch. Memoir to be published this year, 70,000 words into a novel, and 406 posts on a blog about presence that I hope to turn into a day book.
I’ve also discovered that down time, where I can stew and brew in an unconscious way, is very helpful.
Thanks for the post–a good reminder.
This is it!!! Your thoughts here are nothing less than a torrential downpour soaking deep into the parched earth of my own too long drought. (When a break stretches a bit too long…then longer, until one can’t even see the blurred edges of the roadway any more.)
This beauty of a post is tuned directly to my channel, and although I haven’t experienced my essential lightening strike as yet, you’ve left me confident that what I’m feeling is the static electricity tingling at the back of my neck to indicate an imminent strike!
Thank you, Kathleen. No, REALLY, thank you!!!
Sometimes the chaos of our lives prevents us from achieving certain goals; at other times, however, we let the chaos interfere with those dreams. I’ve often found that some of the best story ideas my mind conjures up comes when I’m not thinking about the writing process at all. Then, in the midst of engaging in something totally unrelated, there it is! At least the concept is there, if not the entire story. It’s akin to remembering something; if you try too hard, it’ll elude you, which is obviously aggravating. But, if you turn to another activity, you may recall that one thing. There’s no single magic trick to help writers be creative. A creative drought may be necessary for a writer; it’s a chance for the mind to clear itself of any refuse and therefore rejuvenate.
Kathleen
Thank you. By sharing your process, you’ve given me much to consider in my own process. I have mixed feelings about which works best for me, but I believe your point about discovery is what we really hope for, and perhaps if we’re not writing but merely prepping, discovery happens less often or even not at all. Thank you again for a valuable post and constructive comments.
Thanks for this bit of insight Kathleen. Just goes to show what I’ve learned to to be true, you can’t demand creativity. You have to give yourself time and atmosphere to connect the dots.
I started coloring, and it has helped a great deal. I went and bought lots of lovely new markers and an adult coloring book. I give myself permission to play and I try not to worry about the writing. It’s amazing how this has helped!