That's right, authors get desperate. I'm talking shoveling chocolate, hiding under the bed, wondering if the Editor Gnomes are coming to get us for missing our deadlines. Don't laugh. It could happen. Has happened. Shiver!!! In case any of you out there lose your minds and decide to become authors, Editor Gnomes hunt by tracking down the scent of fear and chocolate to its source. But I digress.
Seriously, if a writer's block lasts for a long period of time, it does funny things to your mind. Writing is like Crack to an author. We need to be doing it. Our whole lives revolve around this one single thing. The need to create is so great inside us, we can't imagine not doing it. Once an author, or any form of artist for that matter, finds an outlet for the thoughts in our heads we have to do it on a daily basis. We write, even if it's nothing more than a single line to burn off those creative juices swirling around in our noggin.
Normally the process flows smoothly. Notice I said normally. Despite our delusions otherwise, the brain needs a rest every now and again. We might not know our limitations but our brain does. These creative vacations are an integral part of the process. Of course we don't see it that way. A couple of days of nothing we can handle. Longer than that, and we literally go nuts. Seriously you can only spend so much time on Facebook and rearranging bookshelves before you start shaving the dog and wearing strange outfits to the Wal-Mart. That brings us to desperation.
In our darkest hours we turn inward with our anger at not being able to write. We plot nastiness and wish mortal harm on our muses. We snap at loved ones. We mark our internet territory with blogs about not being able to write, and endless promos telling readers how great our books are. When the truth is all we can do is tell ourselves we suck, the world is coming to an end, and agonize over that bump on the end of our nose that we're sure is well on it's way to becoming Aunt Eugenia's beauty mark—i.e. wart, a big hairy one at that.
Desperation can also lead to some crazy actions on our part, not that the wart thing isn't crazy enough. I, myself, have been known to talk to myself while begging the dog to…
JUST TELL ME WHAT THE HELL I DID WRONG!
WHY DID MY MUSE DESERT ME?
OH, LORD WHY?!!!
He doesn't answer of course. The sorry sack of crap. I know he is conspiring with my muse to write a tell-all book about me.
Instead of going on and on, I decided to ask a few authors what's the most desperate thing they've done to break a writer's block. Hence avoiding revealing how crazy I truly am.
Okay unsuspecting authors…
What is the most desperate thing you've done to break writers block?
Uh, that isn't a moment of silence. Though, it would be more than appropriate in this instance. The truth is, most authors refused to be interviewed on the record after tating it was none of my business and I should go write instead of bothering them. I think it was a load of horse puckie but they threatened my Oreo stash, so I'm leaving them to wallow in their desperation and denial. It seemed to be the most humane thing to do under the circumstances.
All comedy aside—not sure what side but either will do—writing is not easy. Quite frankly, it doesn't take much to throw us over the edge, straight into madness. When you see an author in this state, don't approach them and forget all about any sudden moves. I'm trying to save your life here so listen up.
Authors are dangerous, desperate creatures. We're neurotically moody. That's putting it mildly but you get the point. If you have friends or relatives who are writers don't try to get them into support groups or any of the thousands of other self-help twaddle that's floating around. Just leave us alone in our junk food littered dens of iniquities. Feed us when we grunt and Lysol us down when we begin to smell. Aside from that, there's not much else you can do. As soon as you accept that, the easier it'll be for you to have us locked up when the royalty checks stop paying for our internet connections and caffeine intake.
Did that sound overly desperate to you?
Lurking behind the potted plant,