An Antidote for Writer’s Kryptonite: by James Black

Superman tugged at his curly-q bang, surprised to discover his hair had gotten so long he could pull it down in front of his eye. “Wow,” he muttered to himself, letting go of the lock, watching it boing while resenting the universe for giving him such curly hair. He glanced down at the blank page on his word processor. He really should have been writing his weekly blog post, but he began to obsess: What if he kept forgetting to make an appointment for a haircut and woke up one day with an unruly mane? That wouldn’t do; he just wasn’t that kind of superhero. Overhauling his image would eat up precious time he should spend writing. It was best to take a moment to call his stylist so he could get a trim sooner rather than later. Before picking up the phone, he checked Facebook because it had been, like, at least ten minutes. Lois Lane had posted a video called “Catz Bein’ Cute” on his wall. He decided to take just a quick peek.

And you know what happened? Superman never finished that blog post. He could leap tall buildings in a single bound, but tell him to fill a blank page, and all he did was whine and huff and look for distractions.

I understand Superman’s predicament; I really do. Writing is relatively easy when I feel driven to write, whether by inspiration or a clear assignment, but without either, freedom is an unnerving privilege. It’s like waiting for special instructions when you know they’re not coming. Somehow, you just need to begin.

In Writing with Power, Peter Elbow advises, “Writing almost always goes better when you are already started […].” Elbow suggests starting a writing session with ten minutes of freewriting, but I think any brief, prime-pumping exercise will work. The purpose is to make your regular writing practice somewhat like a job or sport, with some tedium that simply must be done–the equivalent of stretching out, playing scales, filing papers. Such tasks offer starting points, but just as important, their consistency helps you establish an ongoing process.

Limitations can be liberating, especially when I place them on my writing for myself. I define the structure of my process and establish the terms by which I will make myself accountable. Maybe that sounds complicated, but it doesn’t have to be. The exercises you use don’t have to veer too far from what you already do; you just need to make sure they happen. For example, Superman could have clicked around Facebook for material to freewrite about, helping to make a transition from free time to a more disciplined mode of practice. Leaping buildings without a running start may be easy when you have an inherent gift for that, but for writing practice, it’s bad form. The strain could cause some major damage.

It’s helpful for me to think of writing practice this way: All of the writing I do is practice for the writing I will do next. What I’m doing now won’t work forever. I have to make adjustments every few months. But I learn from what I’ve done, mainly that I need to remain flexible and not get too high-minded about my daily writing. If I can find a place to plug in my laptop, stick to my goal, and keep my butt in the chair, I’m a writing superhero.

James Black is a founding member of Book Writing World. He earned a masters degree in comparative literature at the University of Missouri at Columbia. His work has been published in the anthology The New Queer Aesthetic on Television and in the journal Anon. He’s writing his first novel about the family of a closeted, gay soldier stationed in Iraq. Check out his blog, Quota. He contributes to the BWW weekly!