One of the most stressful parts of writing is not writing. Everyone knows this. Even people who don’t write. Because in every movie or television show which features a character who is a writer, there is a scene where that character is wracked with anxiety, pacing a floor ankle-deep in crumpled paper balls of failure, and basically rending their garments.
I’ve never had this experience, because I’m not particularly susceptible to wailing and gnashing my teeth. And I’ve never seen any of my writer friends melt into a steaming puddle of angst, either. But the anxiety is real, and any writer will tell you that there are times when the challenge of facing a blank screen can seem overwhelming. “Writer’s block” and “dry spells” most definitely happen. And when they happen, they can seriously erode your confidence, which only makes the problem worse. It can feel like you’re floundering in quicksand, surrounded by miles of empty desert in every direction.
It doesn’t have to feel that way.
Have you ever seen the movie “Mr. Baseball“ starring Tom Selleck? It’s certainly not the best movie ever, but it has its moments. Selleck plays a struggling baseball player that gets traded to a team in Japan, and he fears his career is over. Plus, he feels utterly out of place (very American, not worldly, daunted by all the differences, and 2 feet taller than everyone else in the whole country. So, he basically disregards everything anyone tries to tell him and fights with his new coach.
Finally, his coach does this sorta Karate Kid thing where he makes him hit golf balls with a bat at a driving range for hours at a time until Selleck finally throws down the bat and says, “I want to hit baseballs!” And his coach smiles and says, “Now you’re ready.”
The point is this: When you’re stuck and feeling guilt and pressure and self-doubt because you can’t write, and the idea of dragging out your manuscript is torture because it only justifies your feelings of failure — that is when you need to put it away and find something non-writerly to do for awhile until the desire to write comes organically. Maybe it will take a few months until you get your mojo back, and that’s okay — give yourself permission to recharge. Plant a garden. Binge-watch something you haven’t made time to watch. Learn to cook a new dish. Read a lot, until you begin to burn with the need to do it better than the writers you’re reading.
That’s when you’re ready. Until then, get comfortable on the bench. It doesn’t mean you’re out of the game; it just means you’re between innings.