How to beat a writing block with a common film technique

So today, a glorious day, in the writing of the fourth Boss MacTavin mystery, I found myself suddenly blocked. An odd time to be blocked, now that I was nearing the home stretch. A little more detective work, loose ends to tie up, then a terrific action scene in a forsaken alley.

And yet today in the Writer Room of the central library I stared and stared at the naked page. Major inconsistencies in the tale tormented me: how could the main villain not have seen through Boss's ingenious disguise if two other villains, now dead, had been aware of it? Etc. That sort of thing. I couldn't see how to resolve this and moving forward seemed impossible.

What the hell was I to do, go days or weeks without writing when I'd written over 50,000 words?



Better writers than I am have written of this. And I took heart from Stephen King:


























Still, I had to slug my way free my own way. And my mind turned to how some great movies are shot: entirely out of sequence. Scenes are shot when certain actors are available...or when a location permit is obtained...or when the weather is right.

So, while I wait for 'the weather' to improve on the novel's next scene, I can move on to the ending, which is fairly clear in my mind. At least the big brawl in the alley. That scene may help fill in much of the blank space preceding. If, I'll finish what I can, then begin the second draft, with hopes the inconsistencies resolve themselves as I go.

The worst thing, as I see it now, is to sit and brood and do nothing. Keep going, preserve the momentum--and keep the cameras rolling!

Let's Talk About Fat: August Assault #2

I headed into the August Assault, armed with a couple of mantras:
1) Lose the ounces, not the pounds. 
2) Cravings create cravings, so cultivate great cravings.
3) Want not, waist not.

Such mantras are essential because there's no time for debate when you're in a moment of crisis: the sudden urge for a giant piece of carrot cake or half of a glorious pizza. Mantras are quick and efficient: you're simply reinforcing a decision you've already made. And together with my workouts and my new largely raw diet, I expected to march like a lion into the August photo shoot.

Mantras, diet, workouts...Yes!

But I met a gremlin on the way, a grim one determined to tank me: what seemed to be clear evidence that I was not losing weight. Though others had started to tell me how fit I was looking...and though I could see the thinning of my face...and though side profiles in the mirror were no longer shameful...Still, I couldn't fit into a few pairs of pants I'd bought a while back.

Light bulb: the sides of my belly showed as trimmed and sculpted in the mirror and my abs were actually starting to show but the front of the gut remained. And it is apparently the very last to go. So the stubborn 'bump' still blocked me, regardless of the pounds I'd lost.

A few days later I slipped effortlessly into the pants that had mocked me.



I ended with three brand-new mantras:
1) It's happening, although I can't see it today.
2) Trust the process not to fail.
3) Give time a little more time.

Too many endeavors are doomed because a wicked gremlin whispers that we're getting nowhere. The fact is, we're advancing every second on the way. And we'll 'get there' safely and surely if we hold to our perception of ourselves as works in progress.

Do the hard thing as if it were easy...

...and do the easy thing as if it were hard.

I still remember that maxim from Miyamoto Musashi's classic text for samurais: The Book of Five Rings.



The tiny book's a gold mine of pithy lines like that. But that is the line that came back to me this week as I began the most difficult task to tackle so far in Seattle:

Yes, finding a new job.




After five years of working third shift in Charlotte, the reduced hours and better schedule in Seattle seemed celestial. But the tradeoff proved a grim one, for the neighborhood is hell, running wild with thieves, drunks, druggies and dealers. Still, I decided to wait until after New Year's Eve. Then, before I knew it, I'd spent the month of January tackling all of my goals except this. I'd done nothing but put notes in my planner: Revise resume! Start looking!




Oh, I could've blamed my dogging it on any number of things: fear of rejection, uncertainty of where to apply, reluctance to lose my job benefits after five years...and so on, ad nauseam. But the main thing, I realized, was that I'd gotten into the habit of seeing myself where I was. This seemed to be my lot in life. Besides, hell only lasted for three days a week.

But...

Do the hard thing as if it were easy...My brain shifted to Musashi mode.





Step one: to the library, where I forced myself to sit till I'd completed the first new version of my resume--this one geared to retail. Then I printed this to make copies on high-quality paper for in-store visits next week.

Step two: Printed out an application for a store that interests me, completed application and set it aside for a visit next week. They like to meet their applicants and that rings my bells.

Step three: Bought a couple of last accessories for my new shaving regimen and decided on pants and shirt for personal visits.

Step four: Completed one on-line application and one in-store kiosk application for two stores that might be of interest.

Step five: Since I'm out to find more than simply any new job, I decided to gamble at this point on my applications. I listed available hours as a part-time applicant--ruling out Friday through Sunday in two cases, Saturday and Sunday on the third.

Step six: While ruling little out, I began to focus hard on what I want and what I have to offer...not on who will have me and what they say they require.

I'm prepared for setbacks and rejection. But I'm also completely committed to raising the bar with employment...by taking whatever tough steps I must take--as if they were child's play.