It’s not that I’m so smart, it’s just that I stay with problems longer
– Albert Einstein
So. I’m alive. It’s been a while since my last scene update and I was truly beginning to wonder if I would actually live long enough to fix this scene. I’m sure as writers we can all relate to that scene. You know the one that makes you contemplate banging your head against a brick wall so you did not have to be stuck working on that scene. In fact, cleaning also seems strangely enticing when faced with that scene. If you look through the twitter hash tag #writerhell you can find lots of related references to that scene.
Despite being stranded in my own version of writer hell I managed to refrain from viciously barking at anyone who dared approach my lair. Apparently writers get temperamental and at times downright scary towards loved ones and stray children when something is not going according to plan? Clearly I would never…okay, maybe. Lets not go there.
What I’m trying to say is…I tried everything short of selling my firstborn to the devil to get this scene right. I drew maps, word graphs, I changed writing locations, wrote longhand, typed frantically with a timer, deleted everything and started over (times 8), meditated, napped, pulled out the big guns (instant coffee), searched for visual prompts, wrote to music, wrote in silence, procrastinated, seriously contemplated selling my first born to the devil and may have even cried a little bit. It’s all part of the journey right?
How do you cope in writer hell?
Love and light,