Tag: Writing

7 Reasons That Writer’s Block is Frustrating

Whether you’re a blogger, a journalist, a novelist, a playwright or a poet, writer’s block can be both debilitating and frustrating. Here are seven reasons why.

Yes, It's Microsoft Word 1897!

1. Because You Call Yourself A Writer. I sometimes call myself a writer. Mostly because that’s what I do. I write. Every day. I didn’t start doing it regularly until my thirties, but I’ve studied literature my whole life, from pre-school to university. And I feel comfortable when I refer to myself as a writer; because I do it all the time and, I like to imagine, quite well. I don’t make my living from writing: I’ve never even been paid for writing; in fact – owing to the vagaries of the publishing system – I’ve been offered more money not to write than I have to write. Yes, actual soft cash (made of paper, so better than hard cash), and I turned it down. Because I’m an idiot. And I would have had to have called myself a not-writer. A professional not-writer. And that’s not who I am. But you can only call yourself a writer if you actually write something.

2. Because It’s Hard To Explain. It’s hard to explain not being able to write to non-writers, because – to them – it’s a natural state. How would you explain the absence of writing to someone that isn’t a practitioner of the art? I’ll have a stab at it: Imagine that you’re reading a blank page. But that page is important. In fact, the words on that page are fundamental to your very life, soul, being, self-image and existence. But you can’t see them. And you need them. They’re vital. Oh, and you’re naked. Well that’s pretty much what it’s like. But much worse. Because your foot hurts and it’s cold where you are.

3. Because You Can Think Of Things To Write, They’re Just Not Appropriate. I could, right at this moment, fashion a discourse highlighting the influence of John Mayall on the British blues movement or analyse Romania’s under-reported role in the holocaust. But I’m not writing a piece on the development of British music, or on World War II, I’m writing for a humour site. Which is a shame as there’s very little else in my head except for: “There’s nothing in your head you silly man”, “My foot hurts” and “Oooh, I quite fancy a sandwich”; yet eating the sandwich won’t help you because…well…it’s eating a sandwich, which is different to writing (it’s more Marmitey and less like Tolstoy) and your audience probably won’t appreciate a piece entitled 7 Reasons I Stopped Staring Blankly at a Screen and had a Sandwich Instead as it would be at least six reasons light and it would probably make them hungry. Well, half of them, the other half probably don’t like Marmite.

4. Because You Have A Deadline. Yes, there’s always a deadline that you need to hit. And, when I was staring at my blank screen it was imminent. After all, I have other things to do in addition to writing. I’m a man, I need simple things; that sandwich, sleep, words to magically appear on my screen (or in my head, I’m not lazy, I’ll happily type them out), but mostly sleep. Because I’ve been busy all day and I’m tired. But I need to write these words, so with bloodshot eyes I continue to stare at the screen, because inspiration will strike if I stare at it for long enough, surely?

5. Because Of Modern Technology. And I’m staring at the blank screen on a computer. That’s right, a computer. A machine connected to the world that contains many, many distractions. So when you find yourself failing to write words on a screen, you’ll soon find yourself watching people falling off bicycles on Youtube. And shortly, you’ll find yourself on Twitter. Not tweeting about WWII or John Mayall, but about other topical and funny stuff. And you’re actually being funny on Twitter. In the written word! But not in any way that inspires your next day’s piece, and that doesn’t help matters; in fact, it’s bloody frustrating, as the irony of the situation won’t escape you. You will briefly toy with the idea of tweeting tomorrow’s piece, and disregard it. Eventually. But not before you’ve wasted much precious writing time considering it, while sucking on a pencil: A pencil without any lead in it.

6. Because Of Self-Doubt. Why do I write? If you ever found yourself asking that, you would never, ever do it. Because writing defies all logical sense. Why, in the name of all that is holy, in the name of all that is unholy, or in the name of all that isn’t there (I think I’ve covered everyone) would anyone choose to spend their time spewing-forth words from their brains to their fingers to their screens. “I could be doing other things at the moment,” you’ll find yourself thinking. “I could be doing other things that normal people do like watching other people sitting in a “jungle” or watching other people dancing badly or watching other people that can’t sing, sing or”…and suddenly writing makes sense again.

7. Because You’ll Get There In The End. And eventually, you’ll think of something to write about. Because that’s what you do, you’re a writer. Even if you do end up writing about not-writing, even if you end up raw-eyed and sweaty, even if you end up writing with the rapier-like-insight and élan of an addled baboon, there’ll be something. Because however much you think you have nothing to say, however hard you think it is, there will always be something. And that’s when you know that you should write. And that you should have a shower.

November 23, 2010
7 Reasons Sir Elton Might Like To Take A Look At His Own Songs

Hello, I’m back. I guess, in the grand scheme of things, that is not enough to make your Tuesday. As a result I shall also furnish your day with a 7 Reasons post. You may have heard that Sir Elton John has been having a pop at the songwriters of today. According to the BBC, he thinks they’re awful. ‘Fair enough’, I thought, ‘but let’s just have a listen to some of Elton’s stuff to find out how much better he was’. The results are staggering. Here are 7 Reasons Elton should probably listen to his Greatest Hits again.*

1. Song – Your Song. Lyric – “I don’t have much money but boy if I did, I’d buy a big house where we both could live.” It’s hardly the stuff of Chaucer, Hardy or Dickens is it?

2. Song – Crocodile Rock. Lyric – “But the biggest kick I ever got, was doing a thing called the Crocodile Rock, while the other kids were rocking round the clock, we were hopping and bopping to the Crocodile Rock.” I know this song is self-referential, but even so, it’s still a load of nonsense. I wouldn’t have thought the hallmark of a great songwriter was to make up some stupid dance name. I suspect Elton would laugh in Marc’s face if Mr Fearns approached him with the 7 Reasons Shuffle. Especially if he was wearing my mask.

3. Song – Daniel. Lyric – “Daniel is traveling tonight on a plane, I can see the red tail lights heading for Spain.” How convenient Daniel was going to Spain. Mind you, I suppose if he had been going to Derry he could have caught the ferry. Just a shame they don’t do a tram to Iran really.

4. Song – Saturday Night’s Alright For Fighting. Lyric – “It’s getting late have you seen my mates, Ma tell me when the boys get here, it’s seven o’clock and I want to rock, want to get a belly full of beer.” Hardly the sort of message one wants to be sending out. Elton John and Grand Theft Auto have a lot to answer for.

5. Song – Don’t Let The Sun Go Down On Me. Lyric – All of them. This song is a cliche. From start to finish. In that respect, the songwriting is awful. It also doesn’t address the solution to the sun going down, which, in most parts of the world, is to switch on the light. Or light a candle. Actually, I’m glad Elton never lit a candle, he’d have probably written a song about it.

6. Song – Honky Cat. Lyric – “When I look back, boy I must have been green, bopping in the country, fishing in a stream.” I’m not a cynic, but I find it very hard to believe that anyone who is green and bops in the country also goes down to fish in the stream. I think it has more to do with the fact that it rhymes. Personally, for all the sense this song makes, I would have preferred it to have been, ‘When I look back, yowzer I must have been blond, chugging in the hamlet, pissing in a pond’. But I guess the tempo is not quite the same with that is it?

7. Song – Rocket Man. Lyric – “Mars ain’t the kind of place to raise your kids.” No, neither is Preston. Talk about stating the bloody obvious. And whose idea was it to write a song about a fictional astronaut going on a fictional journey to Mars anyway?

*Edit: In response to all of you who told me Bernie Taupin wrote the lyrics and not Elton, yes, I do know this. Elton still saw the lyrics fit enough to sing though. As a result, this post passes muster.

October 19, 2010
7 Reasons Not to Write in the Park

Last week, I wrote a piece entitled 7 Reasons To Write In The Park. I did this because it was a nice day and I thought it would be a good idea to combine a visit to my local park with writing, Having come up with the title for the piece before I set off, I felt duty-bound to complete it, even though my experience showed me that the park isn’t the ideal place to write at all. This is why.

Picture by www.webbaviation.co.uk

1. Sunshine. It was sunny in the park. I discovered that sunlight is incompatible with writing as I couldn’t see what was on the screen of my laptop. I’m not the most accurate of typists and being able to see what I’m keying in is vital to me. After I’d finished writing, I returned home to find that I’d written this:

I had to spend hours rewriting it from memory. Indoors.

2. The Descent Of Man. There’s an ice cream vendor at my local park so I bought an ice cream which, as it was a hot sunny day, melted and made both of my hands very sticky. I needed to type but I didn’t have a tissue or a wet wipe with me; because I’m not very organised and also because I’m not a woman (I don’t even own a dress). I ended up having to clean my hands by dragging them around on the grass. And so it was that I, a modern man, was reduced to savagery by something as simple as a defrosting confection. Pathetic.

3. Women. There were scantily clad women sunbathing in the park; some of them were reading too. This is a distraction I never encounter when writing at home and I got quite hot under the collar (an idiomatic one, I’m not a dog). As I sat there trying to write, I found myself thinking about how attractive women with books are. For reasons that I can’t fathom, a woman reading Dostoyevsky is at least 70% more attractive than a similar looking woman that isn’t reading anything. I was supposed to be writing and instead, I found myself just sitting there, wondering if I’m a book fetishist or even if there is such a thing. Is it the paper? Is it the font? Is it the rustling sound of the turning pages? Anyway, the upshot was that I lost at least half an hour of writing time worrying that I’m some sort of biblio-pervert.

4. Ducks. It’s not possible to write anything near a duck. I know, I’ve tried. They do three things that are distracting; they quack, they waddle and they sleep with their heads facing backwards. How are you supposed to write anything near a creature like that?

5. Words. I overheard a man and a woman that were seated near me on a bench. I listened, because you never know if you might be able to use what you hear as dialogue later on. The woman had a very distracted, slightly disconnected, manner of speech; she would leave long pauses mid-sentence before eventually resuming. At one point she said “…of course, Mike would fall for her…she’s very…”. It was during the final pause that the word bendy popped into my head and caused me to burst into – what outwardly appeared to be spontaneous – laughter. The couple – who had previously observed me dragging my hands around on the ground – soon moved on, presumably a little concerned. Or even a lot concerned.

6. Tan. I thought I’d tanned slightly while I was writing in the park but it turns out that I hadn’t. The following morning I woke with one red arm. It’s a completely different colour to my other arm but, as my highly amused wife pointed out to me, it does go better with the kitchen.

7. Just Because. I don’t know what I was thinking, Trying to write in the park was clearly a foolish act. It’s the wrong thing to do there: it’s not what parks are for. I should have been running around with a ball or a Frisbee (again, I feel I should stress that I’m not a dog) or reading or feeding the ducks. Writing there was a disaster. In conclusion; if you need to write anything, the park’s the wrong place to do it.*

*And it’s full of book-perverts.

May 24, 2010
7 Reasons To Write In The Park

Something amazing happened yesterday; the sun came out in Yorkshire. With a mixture of delirium, excitement and astonishment I abandoned my plans and headed off to my local park. I decided to justify this dereliction of home improvement duty by coming up with 7 Reasons To Write In The Park.

Picture by www.webbaviation.co.uk

1. Fitness. I walked to the park, something that probably counts as one of my five portions of exercise per day. Had I stayed at home to write I would have had to have paced up-and-down to achieve the same effect. Not for very long, the park’s just around the corner, but still, it all helps.

2. Ice Cream. There is no ice cream in my house, but my local park has an ice cream vendor. I love ice cream, and it turns out that it’s a brilliant accompaniment to writing, better even than the bananas that usually fuel my compositions. Obviously your local park might not have ice cream, but it’s not my fault if your park sucks and mine doesn’t.

3. Inspiration. While I was writing in the park two middle-aged men, deep in conversation, walked past me and I overheard one of them exclaim, “…I don’t even own a dress!” I have no idea what the context was, but at some point I’ll be able to use this in something. It’s currently a monologue, but eventually, I may be able to use it as dialogue – or perhaps even trialogue – if such a thing exists. Those words came free at the park; I wouldn’t have heard anyone say them at home. And by that, I don’t mean that I own a dress, I mean that I wouldn’t be saying it aloud to myself while writing. My wife wouldn’t say it either. She has loads of the things. They’re everywhere.

4. Sunlight. Often, when writing, the location of the writer means that they don’t see much sunlight. In my case, I usually write near a window in a West facing room in North Yorkshire so I’m more likely to see a unicorn piloting a zeppelin to Greenland than I am to see the sun. Yesterday, however, as I emerged from my house blinking and startled into the sunlight and headed off to the park it felt good. I may have even tanned slightly while writing! Extraordinary.

5. Ducks. There are ducks in the park. Ducks are among the cutest animals in the world; they’re amazing. Right about now, you’re probably asking yourself: How did the ducks help with the writing? Well, if I hadn’t seen the ducks, I wouldn’t have mentioned them and these words wouldn’t be here and you’d just be staring at a blank screen. That’s how the ducks helped. Bet you’re glad I didn’t see geese.

6. Comparison. When I write at home I write in a room full of books. From my desk I can see a sizable collection of exalted works by a canon of noteworthy authors. This is intimidating company for anyone trying to write anything. In the park, I was free from any feelings of inferiority and was able to scrawl my hackneyed musings…er…compose my insightful witticisms unabashed. I did briefly sight a man that resembled the late poet Philip Larkin, but it wasn’t him. The real Philip Larkin would never have tripped over a sunbather.

7. Just Because. It’s just nice in the park. It was a glorious day and had I stayed at home I’d have been obliged to varnish the garden furniture or paint a wall or something. But I didn’t. I went to the park, had a good time writing and was nearer to the pub when I’d finished. The whole experience left me feeling thoroughly happy and with a great sense of well-being. In conclusion; if you need to write anything, the park’s the place to do it.*

*Unless you’re Philip Roth or James Ellroy, I don’t need the pressure.

May 20, 2010
7 Reasons These Opening Lines Are Not Classics

It is said that the following seven opening lines are some of the best written. I disagree. In fact I believe them to be vastly overrated. This is why.

1. “It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.” Pride and Prejudice. Jane Austen. 1813. I think one only has to look at the case of Sir Elton John to realise that this is not a truth universally acknowledged at all. Nor is it acknowledged locally.*

2. “It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen.” 1984. George Orwell. 1949. Bollocks. I suppose the sundial was pointing to half-past twenty-seven too.

3. “He was an old man who fished alone in a skiff in the Gulf Stream and he had gone eighty-four days now without taking a fish.” The Old Man And The Sea. Ernest Hemmingway. 1952. If the old man doesn’t have the sense to move to a different location after eighty-four days then I fail to see how I am going to be inspired by his intelligence for the ensuing chapters. Nor his fishing technique.

4. “It was love at first sight.” Catch-22. Joseph Heller. 1961. Now I am a romantic. I know this because I have Notting Hill and Love Actually on DVD, but I can’t believe in love at first sight. Lust, yes. Nausea, certainly. But not love. This wasn’t love. It was just a deep attraction to this person’s physical appearance. I assume it was a person. I didn’t get beyond the line to find out. It could have been a new toaster. But even so, it wasn’t love.

5. “I write this sitting in the kitchen sink.” Dodie Smith. I Capture The Castle. 1948. I suppose I should have had an idea what to expect when I read the title. This book is about a drug addict. Who owns a large sink. Not for me.

6. “When Mr Bilbo Baggins of Bag End announced that he would shortly be celebrating his eleventyifirst birthday with a party of special magnificence, there was much talk and excitement in Hobbiton.” The Fellowship Of The Rings. J.R.R Tolkein. 1954. How the hell did this get made into a film? In fact, how the hell did it get made into a book? For two years I have been trying to get my book published and I can guarantee you my first line makes more bloody sense than this rubbish. The next 10,000 lines maybe not, but the first line definitely.

7. “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair.” Charles Dickens. A Tale Of Two Cities. 1859. I don’t know whether Mr. Dickens is being hypocritical on purpose here or just can’t make his bloody mind up. Poxy fence sitters. I bet this was on the Liberal Democrats reading list in the pre-Nick Clegg days. It’s probably been replaced by something with a nice cover now.**

*This is not a subtle attempt to come out. I’m not coming out. Because I don’t need to. And that’s not because I have come out in the past. I haven’t. Mainly because I don’t think like Sir Elton John.***

**The Conservative Party’s book of choice is, Slaughterhouse-Five, while Labour’s is, The Catcher In The Rye. You can look up the first lines.

***So, to sum up, I’m straight.

May 5, 2010
Russian Roulette Sunday: How To Write A 7 Reasons Post

Since the inception of 7 Reasons, we have – as often as possible – given our Saturdays over to one of you. It helps mix it up and I am sure it’s always good to have a different tone of voice to enjoy your breakfast with. However, the feedback we always get from our guest writers is, ‘it was really hard to think of 7 reasons’. The answer we usually get from people we approach to write for us is, ‘no, I won’t be able to think of 7 reasons for anything’. Well by way of an education, this is my attempt at showing you how it can be done.

1. Everything is a possible subject. Wherever you are, look around you. (Though come back to the screen in 10 seconds because I still require your attention). Whatever you can see could be a subject. A vase. A chair. A window. A packet of chocolate digestives. Just pick one.

2. Question Time. Ask yourself questions about your chosen subject. Let’s say it’s a vase. (I haven’t thought about this before. I am writing it as I go. If it goes horribly wrong I’ll rewrite using biscuits, but that won’t happen because I have faith in my ability to write about vases). a) What would I do to that vase to make it better? b) Why is it made out of glass? c) What else could it be used for?

3. Answer your questions. a) Make it bigger. Make it stronger. Paint it a different colour. b) Because cardboard would get damp. Because that’s what glassmakers make things out of. c) Holding pencils. Carrying water. Carrying petrol. Knocking a robber over the head.

4. Analysis. Which answers do you like better? Which do you feel you could write most confidentally about? Which answers did you enjoy writing more. For me, it was probably the answer to ‘c)’.

5. Conclusion. Work out what you’ve written. In this instance I have written down four uses for a vase. Well I can’t do, 7 Uses For a Vase, the poxy website is called 7 Reasons. How am I going to get reasons in there? Play around with it. Make different words the subject of your title. 7 Reasons To Use A Vase. 7 Reasons A Vase Is Useful. 7 Reasons To Own A Vase. And there it is. 7 Reasons To Own A Vase.

6. Expand. You already have four reasons for this. Okay so carrying water and carrying petrol are very similar so maybe that’s one reason. You need four more. What’s the obvious reason? To put flowers in. At this point you’re probably thinking that’s not funny. That’s because it’s not. So twist it. What would happen if you didn’t have a vase and someone bought you flowers? Where would you put them? In the plug hole? Probably not. That’ll be a nuisance when doing the dishes. In a glass? A cocktail umbrella is probably better. That’s four reasons. What else could you use it as? Again look around. It’s sunny. You could use it to magnify the suns rays and make a small fire. That chair, the leg is a bit wobbly. Put the shorter leg in the vase. Look at the vase. The shape of it. It makes your face look a funny shape. A bit like those funny mirrors at fairgrounds. What a great way to keep the children entertained. And for free! I don’t have children? So what? We don’t mind lies. This isn’t the Chilcott enquiry.

7. Shape It. Suddenly you have your 7 reasons. Write them out. Keep them short(ish). Decide an order. The more obvious reasons first, the wild ones later. Above all though, be you and be your writing style. Then send it to us. Done.

And that is all there is to it. You want a go now don’t you? Good. We’ll look forward to reading it. (Oh, and if you want to use us to plug your business/blog/twitter account, well Jon is quite happy to take payment, write your reasons and put your name on it. Just don’t tell Marc).

March 7, 2010
7 Reasons The Tiger Woods ‘Story’ Is Annoying Me

1. It’s All In The Name. Half the people commenting on this story don’t even know who Tiger Woods is. I have lost count of the number of times I have seen his name written Tiger Wood or Tiger Wood’s. There are two things that really annoy me in life. Spelling names incorrectly is one of them. How hard can it be? There should be a rule. Only people who can spell properly are allowed to live. (The second thing that annoys me is when people ask, ‘Are the US/Australia/France/Bognor-bloody-Regis ahead or behind us in time?’ It’s simple geography people).

2. The Jokes. They are quite frankly rubbish. They’re obvious, poorly written, usually spelt incorrectly and not funny. Ten minutes after news of his car crash broke, everyone in the world had come up with, ‘What’s the difference between an SUV and a golf ball? Tiger Woods can drive a golf ball!’. So why then are people still posting it? Just shut up the lot of you.

3. Here, There and Everywhere. It’s dominating all media outlets. There are reports in the news, sport and entertainment sections. And they all say the same bloody thing. ‘Tiger Woods may or may not have had sexual relations with cocktail waitresses.’ Firstly, I don’t care. Secondly, it isn’t news. You may as well write, ‘Jonathan Lee may or may not have had sexual relations with a cocktail waitress,’ for all the fact that the statement contains.

4. It’s Not Happening. If the allegations are true, a few people will be outraged. But that’s it. No one is going to make an example out of him. Tiger is too big a star to be dropped by those who sponsor him. Not even Nike. Nike need Tiger more than he needs them. This is the world we live in. I don’t care whether you like it or not. It’s a fact. Nothing is going to change so get over it. Stop wasting your time by drawing up pointless petitions asking Nike to drop him. It. Will. Not. Happen.

5. We are all human. I’ve seen a lot of people say that his transgressions just show Tiger Woods is human. What?! He was a robot before was he? And since when did having an affair become acceptable? If he did have an affair, he’s an idiot. Simple as that. If you think he should be forgiven in an instant, it’s because you have been sleeping around yourself. The fact that Tiger may have done it too, makes you feel just a little bit less guilty. Twat.

6. Tiger Woods’ Downfall. There’s always a bloody Downfall spoof. And it’s always the same bloody clip. Yawn.

7. I’m A Loser. I end up writing about it. Even though I am bored to death of the story, think everyone writing or commenting on it is a muppet and my heart says I shouldn’t join in, I do. The fact is, I know it’s what people want to read about. I know that if I write it this website will get billions of hits. So I have a dilemma. Stick to my moral convictions or put on my business hat. Obviously I have no morals. It makes me sick.

December 4, 2009
7 Reasons Why Songwriting Is Easy

1. Tackle Dangerous Ground. You can take two areas that should just not work together, i.e.: sex and fire, and merge them. You couldn’t show two people having a fondle on a bonfire in a TV show, but you can write a song called Sex On Fire and it’s fine.

2. Huge Creative License. You can call something something when it’s not actually that something. Alanis Morissette’s Ironic for example. “It’s like rain on your wedding day.” This is not ironic. It’s unlucky. Or to be expected if you book your wedding for a Tuesday afternoon in January. It always rains on a Tuesday afternoon in January.

3. Endorse Nonsense. You can write things that don’t make sense and never will make sense. Yet listeners will spend ages being confused by them. “Are we human or are we dancer?” I haven’t got a clue what Brandon Flowers is on about. And are the two things really mutually exclusive? Can’t we be a human who dances? Or is he suggesting we’re puppets? I am no puppet Flowers. I’m going to go and listen to Coldplay.

4. Lack Genius. You can be a simpleton and write a song. No offence to Lady Gaga, but I am pretty sure I came up with the lyrics to Bad Romance when I was about two months old. “Rah-rah-ah-ah-ah-ah! Roma-roma-mamaa! Ga-ga-ooh-la-la! Want your bad romance.” Just shut up you silly, silly woman.

5. Promote Drugs. You can tell people what it’s like to be addicted to drugs and, in the process, make it sound awesome. “We skipped a light fandango. Turned cartwheels cross the floor. I was feeling kind of seasick. But the crowd called out for more.” Whatever Procol Harum were on, I want some.

6. Promote Drugs. You can tell people what it’s like to be addicted to drugs and, in the process, make it sound bloody awful. “I am the eggman. They are the eggman. I am the walrus. Goo Goo g’joob.” Whatever The Beatles were on, I don’t want to go anywhere near it.

7. Promote Sex. And more to the point, promote extramarital sex. All you have to do is write the lyrics in French and get the singer to have an orgasm at the end of the song. Then Bingo! There is your hit. Between you and me I think Jane Birkin was faking it though. Je vais et je viens, entre tes reins.

November 15, 2009