Originally published in WriteOn! Winter 2015 Issue
I'm thinking about bad writing days, because after a string of them, I’ve rewritten the lyrics to Queen’s “We are the Champions.” As I type this, I can hear Freddie Mercury singing, “Bad writing days? I've had a few ... ”
A bad BCW writing day can be anything from total lack of inspiration to sinking in endless sentences devoid of meaning or voice. I'm fanatical about voice, so that last one is a killer. And yes, I have an ongoing problem with plot. But whether it’s one bad day or (starts counting and runs out of fingers) many, the trick is to keep going, to let more writing be the cure.
Some of you know that I love to quote Sir Winston Churchill. It’s not just because I'm English; it’s because I write about courageous struggles with mental illness, and Sir Winston, bless him, battled his ‘black dog,’ dyslexia, and a speech impediment to beat the Nazis and win the Nobel Prize in Literature. What a guy. When he said, “If you're going through hell, keep going,” he was talking from experience.
Despite negative reviewers who claim we churn out novels in our sleep, writing can take us into hell. It’s bloody and frustrating and often makes us want to rip out our own fingernails. But here’s the thing: writing’s not meant to be easy.
Take my recent copyedits for my third novel—fourth, if you count the one under the bed—The Perfect Son. Over the course of seven fifteen-hour workdays, I felt as if I were sticking pins into my eyeballs. But after I addressed my copyeditor’s nitpicks, the manuscript was light-years better. A week going through hell, and I emerged on the beach. Well, not entirely, since I had to drag myself back to my now cold and very crappy WIP.
Monday at 6:00 a.m., the alarm went off, and I had a flash thought that lasted until I shuffled into the kitchen and poured coffee: I could sell my MacBook Air and buy professional gardening tools. I soldiered through that writing morning and the next. On Wednesday, I woke up to my husband shaking me in sync with the alarm I’d slept through. But as I headed for the coffeemaker, a new character started talking to me, and suddenly my flatlined story had a heartbeat.
Writing time is precious. Family obligations and the real world intrude constantly, and on bad writing days, any distraction appeals. How do I channel Sir Winston and, to quote his favorite phrase, “keep buggering on?” I try the following:
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Butt in the chair at the same time every day. 6:00 a.m. is my magical hour.
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Conduct an imaginary interview about the book. (Obviously, this follows the Oscar nomination for the screenplay I wrote for my bestselling novel.) I explain out loud where the story idea came from, what the premise is, what the themes are, why it matters. I’m always surprised at what turns up.
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Vanish down the rabbit hole of research. I love to follow that blip of an idea, that tingly feeling that says, “I want to know more about X, Y, or Z.”
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Watch the birds or do anything that empties my mind. I routinely figure out plot conundrums while scrubbing the master shower.
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Listen for characters, because they’re all around us. My son, for example, is doing an internship at a local recording studio. Every night, he has tales about his day and the haunted attic with the teddy bear that no one dares move. One evening, he was talking about the chief sound engineer, a young woman. The next morning, after my husband shook me awake and I shuffled to the coffeemaker, a new character started talking to me—a spunky young sound engineer with scarlet hair who wants to take novel four into uncharted waters, and dammit, I’m following. Because that’s what writers do. We follow our imaginary friends through good days and bad days, but we always keep writing.
English born and educated, Barbara Claypole White lives in the North Carolina forest with her brilliant professor husband and, when he's home from college, their equally brilliant poet/musician son. An avid woodland gardener inspired by her son's courageous battles against an anxiety disorder (OCD), Barbara writes stories that find light through the trees and hope in the darkness of invisible disabilities. Connect with Barbara at barbaraclaypolewhite.com.