For the answer, let's go back to your well. The well, whether deep or shallow provides the water we need and it comes to us through a pump. We take the handle and "pump" it everyday until water fills our glass. But there are days when the water level is low or the pipe if filled with air and we pump and pump - getting nothing much for a while, letting the air and garbage out of the line, until the water returns. This is what I do when the words won't come. I write. Silly word phrases, curse words damning the world, the town, the worn out shoes on my feet. And I write some more, just getting rid of the garbage in my head while still believing there are words somewhere in there. And eventually they come. The trick is not to read the words for meaning, there isn't any. Don't try to direct them, just let them out. Hope this helps. Tip: I know you don't used them often, but cuss words are the best remedy. Let them rip. For whatever reason a good cuss word carries far more emotion than a darn. After all, you'll be safely inside your home and no one will know.
Here's the words my kid said on that Tuesday at 4 pm. F*ck cancer. Over and over. Just those two words. F*ck cancer. F*ck cancer. I didn't even chastise her for cussing. Maybe I should pull out my old journal. Write words no one will ever see. So thank you for that.
When I have no words, I go out and digest them. I read. I watch shows. I play games. I indulge in life and conversations I have with family. Sooner or later, I get a eureka moment and the words start flowing out. We have to remember to let our mind soak things up like a sponge before we wring the water out.
Here's a real answer to your real question. But first, hugs and love to you for whatever happened to erase words from your mind.
When that happens to me (it's happened twice in the last 3 weeks) my rain barrel goes empty. The barrel holds the words, characters, snippets for writing.
When my barrel is empty I read. A lot. Novels that are well-written by known authors I can trust to put those snippets into the barrel.
It sometimes takes half a dozen novels or more to fill the barrel, but the time comes when I put the book down to write because the barrel is running over.
Since you write nonfiction, read nonfiction that's written like fiction. Like Endurance, about that incredible attempt by Shackleton's amazing voyage. Choose what will keep you enthralled. Thinking only about what you're reading.
Most important is not feeling bad because you can't write. Think about that empty barrel and read. Read. Read.
It's funny -- usually I read a lot of history, memoir, historical fiction and that sort of thing. But when my brain is fried, I read light fiction. Fantasy, mostly, preferably with dragons. We humans are funny.
I'm not qualified to give advice about writing blocks. I dabble in it while you're a professional and someone I respect as a writer. I can however share my experience and what I have shared with others in the past. When faced with a big decision or trying to figure out how to climb out of a hole go and be in nature, whether that be on the water (my spot) or in a forest and just 'be'. Slow everything down and wait patiently for guidance. The answer to your question/dilemma lies within. I'll continue to look forward to your posts and wish you the best.
My fifth grandchild died from a genetic issue at the age of 5 ½ months. It was (and still is) painful, but the depth of it hit me when I heard my son's single sob at the final moment. Sleeping that night was difficult, as I struggled to deal with it. I finally got up and wrote a poem to be read at the funeral. It wasn't good. I'm not a writer. But it allowed me to move on. I wish I could offer something, but in truth I think sometimes the shock and hurt is so bad that there can't be any words.
Oh god, Jim, I'm so sorry. I cannot even imagine. And you're right. Sometimes the shock and hurt just robs us of words. We've had 3 deaths in my family in 6 months and it's been brutal.
Linda, I'm so sorry for your losses. That is such a lot to carry. Often as writers we put so much pressure on ourselves to have not just words but the right words, in the right order, making the most impact. But there are times in life when f*ck cancer is exactly what's needed. I'm feeling similarly to you right now for different reasons and I'm also the kind of person whose writing helps her feel sane, so I feel your frustration. But my biggest advice to you right now is to let yourself be free, take off the pressure, write what you need not what you think you should be writing. Or don't write and draw. Your words are waiting for you for when you've got the space for them. Give yourself time. And in the meantime, know that this is a beautiful post. Your words are still with you.
When there are no words, I've learned not to force it. I listen to music; all kinds. Draw/ paint, read, or walk. It may sound mundane, but the stuff I've written when I forced it, came out disjointed. It's frustrating as hell. Give yourself some grace...it will come back.
Jul 8, 2023·edited Jul 8, 2023Liked by Linda Caroll
I write short sentences and after awhile it turns into poetry. If it's halfway good I find a picture and put it on my Medium pub 'Poetry Cove.' I too have rolled to a crawl. Plant life usually inspires me even if a bug is plundering a stalk. That's not happening this year. I'm in one of the stages of grief which that isn't sorrow & isn't crabby. I'm feeling foggy and kind of gray--that would make a great title for a poem. On my block there are quite a few immigrant families and with each year their confidence builds. The kids are giggling and getting sassy. A 7 year-old-boy who is staying with his grandfather over the summer smiled at me after he popped a wheelie on his bike. That smile was better than any holiday fireworks. Seeing families taking a family walk takes my breath away. Watching people live their lives and remembering the people who helped me grow up is a river of opportunity. Be tired. Rest up. And let joy take over. BTW, my daughter's grandfather died the week she started college. They were close, but I told her "Live your life. Don't wait for us." He had prostrate cancer that he chose not to treat. He'd been married 61 years, took care of his wife until the day she died, and his job was done. There's a bare spot in the garden, but it will fill in that is nature's way.💕
I love that last sentence, Margie. There is a bare spot in the garden. I don't even mind if it stays bare. I would think of it as a place to sit and contemplate, once the hurt of loss is less fresh.
Jul 7, 2023·edited Jul 7, 2023Liked by Linda Caroll
Years ago I read an article in the NYT by Bill Hayes titled ON NOT WRITING. The basic point being that rest and recovery periods are as important as active writing. I cut out the article and it is still taped on the lamp at my desk.
As I've said before, the only practical thing I know how to do when I can't find the right words to write something bad. I can always do bad writing, lol.
Except, well, there was a time when I couldn't. As a child, I had a speech delay, and I can still vaguely remember the time when I couldn't talk. I understood what the people around me said (or so I thought, given that I was a small child I probably didn't). The child psychologists my parents consulted also figured out that I understood language despite my lack of speech. But I couldn't form my own words, not even the wrong words. A therapist visited my home on a regular basis to train me to speak. (How my mother got the health insurance company to pay the therapist is its own story). I'm not sure how exactly she did it, but I learned to talk.
So no, I don't take the ability to string words, even bad strings of words, for granted.
Oh, the things we take for granted. A little tyke in my family didn't speak either. It took so long they thought she never would, but she understood people talking so they taught her sign language and the whole family learned it to be able to talk to her. One day out of the blue she just started talking. Sometimes life is amazing. I think I'll keep the bad writing in my journal, though. There's a lot of bad writing in there.
Well, fuck cancer indeed! There's a great light inside you, Linda, that is connected to the universe and shared by a great many people. Lean on us whenever needed. Know we are willing the best for you and have faith in your strength. Stay strong. Shout or cuss when needed - we're not far away. 💚🌹 Joe
What a nice thing to say, Joe. I only cuss when I'm mad. lol. Then I can put a sailor to shame. When I'm sad I seem to cry, read and sleep. Rinse, repeat. But talking seems to help and I'm glad I shared this. Even without the details that I can't share yet or maybe ever. And thank you. :)
I am so sorry that life has dealt you a sucker punch. Please, please, trust that those of us who enjoy your work will be here for you when you're ready to return to it — and don't fall victim to the pernicious productivity mentality that infects so much of our world, definitely including writing. Believe me, with self-compassion and some time (sorry, no way to know how long it will take but probably less than you fear) your cup will fill again. Meantime, don't hurt yourself by trying to pour from an empty one.
That last sentence was so real I am kind of stunned by the truth of it. Thank you Jan. I am finding that just saying I hurt and saying it out loud has been more helpful than I realized it would be.
As someone who's followed your writing for years, and through your words, know you, I am hurting for you. I wish I could have deflected the anvil. But know you are not alone. Small comfort, I know. It won't lessen your pain, or alter reality, but please remember there are thousands of people standing by, shovel and hugs ready.
Thank you so much, Jeff. That means a lot to me. I wish I could have dodged the anvil, too, but that wasn't in the cards, I guess. We heal, eventually. If we didn't love so much, we would grieve less but in that context, I'll take the grieving. And thank you. :)
I am so sorry about the pain you are going through. I have had times in my life when I just couldn’t. Couldn’t write, couldn’t create art, couldn’t figure out how to make a meal. I don’t think you can force it. You can agree with yourself to write, scribble, curse, and randomly vent anything that comes to mind and never show anyone. You can allow yourself the kindness of receiving input rather than producing output. Read, watch TV shows and movies, go to museums, theaters, a zoo, enjoy live music, take walks in nature, kayak or swim or do anything in or near water, or anything else you enjoy. Take nourishment physically, emotionally, and spiritually.
I understand the need/compulsion to write. Maybe make a deal with yourself not to try for X amount of time. Giving yourself permission to pause and a date to try again might allow you to grieve and process without the pressure to write.
So many of us are thinking of you and wishing we could offer more solid support. Know we are here.
Thank you, Dakota. What a kind and beautiful reply, truly. I do a lot of staring into space. Some reading, too. What makes it harder is that I still have to work and those hours zap what little I've got, you know? I will get there. And thank you. xo
If I have no words because life served me a volleyball to the face, I let myself Feel for a bit. Sometimes I grab a notebook and write nonsense or stream of consciousness by hand. Sometimes I let myself sink into a new series or a video game for a while as a non-substance emotional numbing agent. “Mindless” things that let my brain settle from the reeling shock. Sometimes it takes longer than I want to get back to it, but I know myself well enough by now to understand that I will always return to my writing in the end.
Linda, my heart aches with you. Grief is never the same, especially when it hits one after the other. A few years back, I lost three in one month. I don't remember most of that year. I was in a daze.
As strange as it sounds, audiobooks helped a bit. They didn't drain me. It was comforting to have someone tell me a story. It was less effort. I still grieve when something reminds me. I didn't push myself. I gave myself permission to grieve however I needed.
Oh God, Denise. I don't know how any person could lose three family members in one month and not be in a daze. For me, the first thing that goes is my ability to listen. If I try listen to an audio at some point it inevitably dawns on me that I've heard nothing at all. It's like white noise in the background. But I can read, so that's a good thing. That and water. It's amazing how many people find comfort sitting by a body of water.
I'm one of those people. It's where I've cried and healed so many times. I wasn't sure if you were near water. It sounds like you're listening to your inner voice. I'm so sorry you're going through this. I'm thinking of you and sending all my love.
I can walk to the river in 10 minutes, if you can believe. Here's the funny thing. It's the same river that runs through the farm I grew up on, 50 miles north of where I live now. Sometimes when I sit by the water, i remind myself this is the same river I played in as a child, the same river that runs through my dad's farm and it's somehow comforting. xoxo
For the answer, let's go back to your well. The well, whether deep or shallow provides the water we need and it comes to us through a pump. We take the handle and "pump" it everyday until water fills our glass. But there are days when the water level is low or the pipe if filled with air and we pump and pump - getting nothing much for a while, letting the air and garbage out of the line, until the water returns. This is what I do when the words won't come. I write. Silly word phrases, curse words damning the world, the town, the worn out shoes on my feet. And I write some more, just getting rid of the garbage in my head while still believing there are words somewhere in there. And eventually they come. The trick is not to read the words for meaning, there isn't any. Don't try to direct them, just let them out. Hope this helps. Tip: I know you don't used them often, but cuss words are the best remedy. Let them rip. For whatever reason a good cuss word carries far more emotion than a darn. After all, you'll be safely inside your home and no one will know.
Here's the words my kid said on that Tuesday at 4 pm. F*ck cancer. Over and over. Just those two words. F*ck cancer. F*ck cancer. I didn't even chastise her for cussing. Maybe I should pull out my old journal. Write words no one will ever see. So thank you for that.
When I have no words, I go out and digest them. I read. I watch shows. I play games. I indulge in life and conversations I have with family. Sooner or later, I get a eureka moment and the words start flowing out. We have to remember to let our mind soak things up like a sponge before we wring the water out.
That's probably very sound. Grief sucks everything out of us.
It does. I’m sorry for your loss. Give yourself time to heal before you start writing. You have a wonderful community who will always support you.
Here's a real answer to your real question. But first, hugs and love to you for whatever happened to erase words from your mind.
When that happens to me (it's happened twice in the last 3 weeks) my rain barrel goes empty. The barrel holds the words, characters, snippets for writing.
When my barrel is empty I read. A lot. Novels that are well-written by known authors I can trust to put those snippets into the barrel.
It sometimes takes half a dozen novels or more to fill the barrel, but the time comes when I put the book down to write because the barrel is running over.
Since you write nonfiction, read nonfiction that's written like fiction. Like Endurance, about that incredible attempt by Shackleton's amazing voyage. Choose what will keep you enthralled. Thinking only about what you're reading.
Most important is not feeling bad because you can't write. Think about that empty barrel and read. Read. Read.
Much love,
Linda
It's funny -- usually I read a lot of history, memoir, historical fiction and that sort of thing. But when my brain is fried, I read light fiction. Fantasy, mostly, preferably with dragons. We humans are funny.
Whatever rests your mind and fills the barrel!
George Eliot's real name was Marian Evans.
Without Google, one in a hundred people might know that. lol
I'm not qualified to give advice about writing blocks. I dabble in it while you're a professional and someone I respect as a writer. I can however share my experience and what I have shared with others in the past. When faced with a big decision or trying to figure out how to climb out of a hole go and be in nature, whether that be on the water (my spot) or in a forest and just 'be'. Slow everything down and wait patiently for guidance. The answer to your question/dilemma lies within. I'll continue to look forward to your posts and wish you the best.
Nature is a good suggestion. I should probably go sit by the river a while. :)
My fifth grandchild died from a genetic issue at the age of 5 ½ months. It was (and still is) painful, but the depth of it hit me when I heard my son's single sob at the final moment. Sleeping that night was difficult, as I struggled to deal with it. I finally got up and wrote a poem to be read at the funeral. It wasn't good. I'm not a writer. But it allowed me to move on. I wish I could offer something, but in truth I think sometimes the shock and hurt is so bad that there can't be any words.
Oh god, Jim, I'm so sorry. I cannot even imagine. And you're right. Sometimes the shock and hurt just robs us of words. We've had 3 deaths in my family in 6 months and it's been brutal.
Linda, I'm so sorry for your losses. That is such a lot to carry. Often as writers we put so much pressure on ourselves to have not just words but the right words, in the right order, making the most impact. But there are times in life when f*ck cancer is exactly what's needed. I'm feeling similarly to you right now for different reasons and I'm also the kind of person whose writing helps her feel sane, so I feel your frustration. But my biggest advice to you right now is to let yourself be free, take off the pressure, write what you need not what you think you should be writing. Or don't write and draw. Your words are waiting for you for when you've got the space for them. Give yourself time. And in the meantime, know that this is a beautiful post. Your words are still with you.
When there are no words, I've learned not to force it. I listen to music; all kinds. Draw/ paint, read, or walk. It may sound mundane, but the stuff I've written when I forced it, came out disjointed. It's frustrating as hell. Give yourself some grace...it will come back.
The waiting is killer. So many half started drafts that I hate.
Lol, yes I hate it too! It's like they're sitting there mocking you! 😂 Or is that just me?!
But seriously, I have so many drafts piled up from last year, nevermind what I've started this year. :S
I write short sentences and after awhile it turns into poetry. If it's halfway good I find a picture and put it on my Medium pub 'Poetry Cove.' I too have rolled to a crawl. Plant life usually inspires me even if a bug is plundering a stalk. That's not happening this year. I'm in one of the stages of grief which that isn't sorrow & isn't crabby. I'm feeling foggy and kind of gray--that would make a great title for a poem. On my block there are quite a few immigrant families and with each year their confidence builds. The kids are giggling and getting sassy. A 7 year-old-boy who is staying with his grandfather over the summer smiled at me after he popped a wheelie on his bike. That smile was better than any holiday fireworks. Seeing families taking a family walk takes my breath away. Watching people live their lives and remembering the people who helped me grow up is a river of opportunity. Be tired. Rest up. And let joy take over. BTW, my daughter's grandfather died the week she started college. They were close, but I told her "Live your life. Don't wait for us." He had prostrate cancer that he chose not to treat. He'd been married 61 years, took care of his wife until the day she died, and his job was done. There's a bare spot in the garden, but it will fill in that is nature's way.💕
I love that last sentence, Margie. There is a bare spot in the garden. I don't even mind if it stays bare. I would think of it as a place to sit and contemplate, once the hurt of loss is less fresh.
❤️🩹
Years ago I read an article in the NYT by Bill Hayes titled ON NOT WRITING. The basic point being that rest and recovery periods are as important as active writing. I cut out the article and it is still taped on the lamp at my desk.
I googled and found this one. It's a good read and thank you!
https://archive.nytimes.com/opinionator.blogs.nytimes.com/2014/08/23/on-not-writing/
As I've said before, the only practical thing I know how to do when I can't find the right words to write something bad. I can always do bad writing, lol.
Except, well, there was a time when I couldn't. As a child, I had a speech delay, and I can still vaguely remember the time when I couldn't talk. I understood what the people around me said (or so I thought, given that I was a small child I probably didn't). The child psychologists my parents consulted also figured out that I understood language despite my lack of speech. But I couldn't form my own words, not even the wrong words. A therapist visited my home on a regular basis to train me to speak. (How my mother got the health insurance company to pay the therapist is its own story). I'm not sure how exactly she did it, but I learned to talk.
So no, I don't take the ability to string words, even bad strings of words, for granted.
Oh, the things we take for granted. A little tyke in my family didn't speak either. It took so long they thought she never would, but she understood people talking so they taught her sign language and the whole family learned it to be able to talk to her. One day out of the blue she just started talking. Sometimes life is amazing. I think I'll keep the bad writing in my journal, though. There's a lot of bad writing in there.
Well, fuck cancer indeed! There's a great light inside you, Linda, that is connected to the universe and shared by a great many people. Lean on us whenever needed. Know we are willing the best for you and have faith in your strength. Stay strong. Shout or cuss when needed - we're not far away. 💚🌹 Joe
What a nice thing to say, Joe. I only cuss when I'm mad. lol. Then I can put a sailor to shame. When I'm sad I seem to cry, read and sleep. Rinse, repeat. But talking seems to help and I'm glad I shared this. Even without the details that I can't share yet or maybe ever. And thank you. :)
I am so sorry that life has dealt you a sucker punch. Please, please, trust that those of us who enjoy your work will be here for you when you're ready to return to it — and don't fall victim to the pernicious productivity mentality that infects so much of our world, definitely including writing. Believe me, with self-compassion and some time (sorry, no way to know how long it will take but probably less than you fear) your cup will fill again. Meantime, don't hurt yourself by trying to pour from an empty one.
That last sentence was so real I am kind of stunned by the truth of it. Thank you Jan. I am finding that just saying I hurt and saying it out loud has been more helpful than I realized it would be.
As someone who's followed your writing for years, and through your words, know you, I am hurting for you. I wish I could have deflected the anvil. But know you are not alone. Small comfort, I know. It won't lessen your pain, or alter reality, but please remember there are thousands of people standing by, shovel and hugs ready.
Thank you so much, Jeff. That means a lot to me. I wish I could have dodged the anvil, too, but that wasn't in the cards, I guess. We heal, eventually. If we didn't love so much, we would grieve less but in that context, I'll take the grieving. And thank you. :)
I am so sorry about the pain you are going through. I have had times in my life when I just couldn’t. Couldn’t write, couldn’t create art, couldn’t figure out how to make a meal. I don’t think you can force it. You can agree with yourself to write, scribble, curse, and randomly vent anything that comes to mind and never show anyone. You can allow yourself the kindness of receiving input rather than producing output. Read, watch TV shows and movies, go to museums, theaters, a zoo, enjoy live music, take walks in nature, kayak or swim or do anything in or near water, or anything else you enjoy. Take nourishment physically, emotionally, and spiritually.
I understand the need/compulsion to write. Maybe make a deal with yourself not to try for X amount of time. Giving yourself permission to pause and a date to try again might allow you to grieve and process without the pressure to write.
So many of us are thinking of you and wishing we could offer more solid support. Know we are here.
Thank you, Dakota. What a kind and beautiful reply, truly. I do a lot of staring into space. Some reading, too. What makes it harder is that I still have to work and those hours zap what little I've got, you know? I will get there. And thank you. xo
In my case, it was Benet's Readers Encyclopedia.
lol. Without Google, one in a hundred people might have known that site. Sorry, couldn't help myself. lol
If I have no words because life served me a volleyball to the face, I let myself Feel for a bit. Sometimes I grab a notebook and write nonsense or stream of consciousness by hand. Sometimes I let myself sink into a new series or a video game for a while as a non-substance emotional numbing agent. “Mindless” things that let my brain settle from the reeling shock. Sometimes it takes longer than I want to get back to it, but I know myself well enough by now to understand that I will always return to my writing in the end.
You are so right. Some journaling is probably in order. Reading helps, too. Funny how we all lean towards similar comforts.
Linda, my heart aches with you. Grief is never the same, especially when it hits one after the other. A few years back, I lost three in one month. I don't remember most of that year. I was in a daze.
As strange as it sounds, audiobooks helped a bit. They didn't drain me. It was comforting to have someone tell me a story. It was less effort. I still grieve when something reminds me. I didn't push myself. I gave myself permission to grieve however I needed.
Much love to you. We're always here for you.
Oh God, Denise. I don't know how any person could lose three family members in one month and not be in a daze. For me, the first thing that goes is my ability to listen. If I try listen to an audio at some point it inevitably dawns on me that I've heard nothing at all. It's like white noise in the background. But I can read, so that's a good thing. That and water. It's amazing how many people find comfort sitting by a body of water.
I'm one of those people. It's where I've cried and healed so many times. I wasn't sure if you were near water. It sounds like you're listening to your inner voice. I'm so sorry you're going through this. I'm thinking of you and sending all my love.
I can walk to the river in 10 minutes, if you can believe. Here's the funny thing. It's the same river that runs through the farm I grew up on, 50 miles north of where I live now. Sometimes when I sit by the water, i remind myself this is the same river I played in as a child, the same river that runs through my dad's farm and it's somehow comforting. xoxo