Why Writers Get Stuck, Part 2

Last week, I talked about the three most common reasons for a writer getting stuck:  first, that it’s actually part of their normal process, second, the fear of some stretchy or tricky bit that comes next, and third, that they’ve actually made a mistake and their backbrain has gone on strike until it gets fixed. Continuing on, some of the other common reasons people get stuck are:

4. Overreaching. The writer has bitten off more than they can chew; they don’t have the chops to pull this off yet, and it is too big a leap forward for them to acquire the chops on this work. Either this becomes obvious during the attempt to write it and the writer gives up in despair, or some part of their backbrain realizes this and refuses to cooperate until they attain the skills they need.

The real trick here is distinguishing lack of chops from lack of confidence/fear. When one falls in love with a really clear, really specific idea of how a story ought to be, it can be easy to avoid actually working at it for fear of messing it up somehow. It’s easy to forget that writers aren’t stuck with their first try – that one can revise as much as is required, or even start over from scratch if necessary. Often, the only way to tell that one doesn’t have the chops is to actually try writing the thing.

Once one is sure that the problem is that the project is beyond one’s skills (rather than that one is simply afraid it is too much to handle), there are really only two things that can be done: either adjust the project (or one’s standards about the project) downward until it’s within one’s current range of skills, or else set the project aside and work on upping one’s game (either by deliberate, targeted practice or through working one’s way up through other stretchy projects that aren’t quite so demanding) until one has learned the skills one needs to pull off whatever vision one started with.

5. Underpreparedness. The writer has hit something necessary that they haven’t researched or made up yet – the details of the incident that traumatized the character twenty years ago, the reason there is a large statue of a watermelon in front of the state capitol, the details of middle-class life in Heian Japan, the events of the next scene – and they have to stop and research it or make it up. This is really normal; I know very few writers who don’t discover that they suddenly need to know something new in mid-book. It’s easier to recognize when it’s a matter of researching real life, but it’s just as common (and just as necessary and time-consuming to fix) when it’s a matter of making up background, character details, or new events.

Not knowing enough background is relatively easy to fix, once one has realized that this is what the problem is. Granted, it is annoying to have to stop writing for three or four weeks in order to research twelfth-century India or make up plausible details about the politics of an imaginary society, but it’s still a relatively straightforward task. Not knowing the next plot twist or necessary scene may be part of the writer’s normal process, or it may be a result of not having thought far enough ahead during planning, or it may be the result of having had a better idea in midstream that has changed the direction the story can/will go. Again, the only thing to do about it is stop and do the planning or thinking, which is easy to say, but hard to do. Nevertheless, there really aren’t any other options. It is slightly easier to cope with if one knows that this is the problem.

6. Different process. For some reason, the writer is working according to a process that isn’t what they usually use, one that either isn’t working for this book, or one that is right for the book but exceptionally difficult for the writer. Their backbrain may have handed them a story that wants to be written this way (a planner handed a story that needs pantsing, for instance). The writer may be deliberately experimenting with alternative processes, or committed to a collaboration with someone who works totally differently.

Using an unfamiliar process is always a learning experience, which can slow things down enough to make the writer feel stuck. Sometimes the unusual process the writer is using can end up fighting with the writer’s normal process, bringing progress to a standstill.

The basic options for dealing with this are to revert to the writer’s normal, familiar process; accept the fact that this is going to be much slower than normal; try powering through (which may still end up slower than normal, but possibly faster than simply plugging along); or switch to some other process. Which one you pick depends on what you are trying to accomplish and whether there are outside restrictions. If you’re experimenting on your own, you can try any of the above, but if you have a deadline, you probably don’t want to stick to a stop-and-go process that won’t get the work finished on time, and if you’re collaborating, you’ll have to negotiate any changes with your collaborator so that fixing your difficulty doesn’t make their end of things grind to a halt.

I thought I was going to get this finished today, but I still have two fairly major things to cover – external factors, and burnout – so there will be one more post in this series.