Because everyone loves a good story
How do you fix writer’s block? Write more? Read more? Try harder? At times each of these is necessary, but sometimes your well just seems dry. How do you tap into water during a creative drought? Well, you may just have to go in search of it.
This morning I read the weekly email from author Jonathan Rogers (The Charlatan’s Boy, The World According to Narnia). In it he considers the writer’s balance between reading and living. Writers are almost sure to be readers, he states, but reading well is only half the battle. “If you are just recycling the things you’ve read in other books, no matter how skillfully, you probably aren’t giving your reader something she couldn’t get for herself.” Touché, Rogers.
So while reading well is certainly important, living well is just as vital. Otherwise, you’ll have no lumber for your construction, no kindling for your fire. I knew an artist once who said he often ran low on creativity. To fix this, he might go to an art museum, but he was more likely to refill his soul’s reservoir by going outside. A short walk through the woods, a visit to a waterfall, and a three-week bike trip through the Swiss Alps are irreplaceable ways to pour beauty into the soul. These things give us something to use, something to write about.
In his email, Jonathan Rogers went on to discuss the literary applications of Bilbo Baggins’s life in The Hobbit. Bilbo was a typical hobbit—practical, predictable, comfortable. He probably spent hours each day reading books in his armchair while eating toast and cheese. But when he heeded his Tookish instincts and went on a great and perilous adventure, he came back forever changed. Now he had something to write about. He used the rest of his considerably-long life (thanks, the One Ring) to pen There and Back Again: A Hobbit’s Tale. Adventure led to creativity.
That’s great for Bilbo, you think. I’m so glad this fictional character was able to pen a fictional masterpiece because of his fictional adventure. But I don’t see what kind of writing material an adventure could give me. Very well. I shall give you a few examples of writing fodder I’ve gleaned from a few of my own adventures through the years.
You may remember that my favorite outdoor foray is hiking. I haven’t done nearly as much as I hope to, but the hikes I’ve enjoyed have given me loads of irreplaceable experiences. I’ve spent three separate weeks backpacking through Yosemite National Park, so I’ve got a special fondness for those sweeping forests, mighty rivers, and granite mountains. And while the trips satisfied my craving for camping, hiking, and shady hygiene, they also gave me plenty of experiences to tap into when I’m writing. Here are a few.
Metaphors abound in nature. The great outdoors provide common ground that nearly everyone can relate to. So rather than falling back on hackneyed similes and metaphors in your writing, think about a time you experienced what you’re trying to describe. Admittedly, it’s easier said than done to write a fresh comparison, but at least you’ll have more mental images to pull from if you’ve got adventures tucked away in your memory.
That way you don’t have to say the girl felt small. Instead, she can feel like a blade of grass beside a mighty sequoia. The man doesn’t have to be merely angry; instead, his temper can crush like a waterfall after a downpour. She doesn’t just feel lonely. Her heart’s as hollow as the wind whistling through a canyon. Now I admit I’m no metaphorical genius (or literal genius either) but the more adventures we have, the more we’ll be able to spin our straw into gold.
If you’re writing fiction, especially adventure or fantasy, you may find yourself writing about a character who is beyond his capacity to continue. He isn’t just tired; he’s depleted, finished, exhausted. There’s no strength left for the next step. Describing this situation with realism doesn’t come from reading a book or watching a documentary where someone gets tired. In fact, you probably can’t even experience it for yourself on an afternoon stroll through the woods.
Exhaustion is something you have to experience for yourself. The uncontrollable quivering of thigh muscles, the vacuum-sealed dryness of a parched mouth, the rationalizing of yet another rest in the shade, the constant doubt about your ability and sanity. These things come from experience. Enjoyable experience? Not really. But worthwhile? Definitely. When you face exhaustion and live to write the tale, your readers will appreciate the richness of your descriptions. And the comforts of their armchairs.
Hand-in-hand with exhaustion comes endurance. When a character confronts a powerful desire to turn back, to quit, to throw in the towel, what makes him press on? From where does he summon the strength? What kinds of thoughts go through his head?
These can be answered in many ways, but physical strain evokes a visceral, primal struggle that is hard to replicate elsewhere. Endurance becomes more than a conscious choice; it becomes a habit, a reflex. If it doesn’t, you’re sunk. You’ll end up sitting there waiting to be rescued. Until you learn that there is always a little more strength in the bottom of the tank, you won’t know what it means to endure, and neither will your characters.
And since the last two lessons were rather grim, I wanted to end with the experience of exhilaration and completion. If you’ve undergone trials that pushed your body and mind to the limit and then some, you probably know the reward of completion. Exhaustion forces endurance which yields exhilaration when you’re finally finished. When you reach the summit, the views are well worth the throbbing thighs and burning lungs.
But the things you learn about yourself may be even more long-lasting and valuable. You learn what motivates you and what discourages you. You find out how you react under pressure and how you treat others in the process. But you learn firsthand the thrill that come from finishing what you started. These are lessons that lead to character development (on the page and in real life).
So if you find your mental well running a little dry these days, don’t despair. And, for heaven’s sake, don’t just flip on the TV. Get outside. Go hiking. See something beautiful. The things you experience will enrich not only your life but your writing as well.
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