I am suffering from post-novel ennui. From malaise. From the disease that afflicts writers after the completion of a book, medical doctors after boards, and graduate students after finishing a dissertation.
Basically, my brain has drained. Somebody pulled the plug. There’s nothing between my ears except dustbunnies and crickets.
This turns out to be a bit of a problem, because I have a novel due June 1, and also a novella and a novelette. And I honestly can’t write any of them yet because they are not yet in my head.
Let me explain it this way. Essentially, when I think of writing, I think of projects as having something akin to soup, and something akin to fruit. Books are like soup in that to write one, you have to throw a lot of things in a pot and let them simmer until they are tasty and the flavors have melded, and then you can serve them forth. They are like fruit because they need ripening time, and if you try to pick them too soon all you get is inedible fruit.
So here I am walking this thin line between not blowing off my deadlines, and trying to buy some time to let my brain regenerate. (My personal life has been hectic lately too, which doesn’t help much with the whole OMG I have to write this book! problem. Writing, for me, seems to require a certain amount of free headspace, and that, of late, I have not had.)
Which leads me to think about observation, which is the best means I know of by which to refill a recalcitrant brain. Noticing things, a simple and neglected art, and the core of creativity.
You see, all that stuff that shows up in art, that has to come from somewhere. And mostly, we get it by abstraction from the real world. Things we observe, notice, internalize, and alter to fit our fictional reality. And the better we get at this, the more intensely we can focus on and notice unusual aspects of our everyday world, the more effective we become at using those details to convey realism, concreteness, upon our constructs.
Those tiny tidbits–the telling details–are what makes the difference between an abstract, a symbol, and the illusion of reality.
And in some regard, it’s what my head is out of right now. Noticed things, experienced things. Things that have weight and heft for the brain.
So right now, frustrating as I find it when I would really like to be writing something, that’s my job. Noticing stuff. Experiencing it. Taking it in, whether it’s the tiny ripples a grooming cat’s tongue leaves in the fur of its wrist, or the way chalk gets stuck under my fingernails when climbing and makes it look like I have a French manicure, except for how ragged my nails are.
And maybe when I’ve done enough of that, I will have a head full of story. I’d better, anyway, because for some reason this cat here keeps insisting she needs to be fed.
7 Comments, Comment or Ping
eric wilson
Just last night I was telling my wife that I struggle with knowing the line between “recharging the batteries” and “time to plant my butt in the chair and write.” The recharging is absolutely vital and so elusive to explain.
I recharge from reading, watching movies, taking hikes, playing basketball, playing chess, going on a date with my wife…and many other things that don’t look like part of my work.
Keep those creative juices flowing. A thousand drips become a river.
Feb 7th, 2008
Brian Hodge
Congratulations on the recent wrap-up. Condolences on the fire-breathing deadlines.
Soup and fruit and observation … you’re totally speaking my language here. In a previous collection, I led into the endnotes thisaway:
“Writers are like those poor aromatic unfortunates who clatter along city sidewalks with shopping carts filled with a puzzling array of seemingly unrelated rubbish. And every now and again we stop and stoop with a satisfied grunt — sometimes an unnerving squeal of delight — and toss something else in the cart. Since things can get sticky in the cart (don’t pursue this), they adhere to each other. Eventually we peer into it and notice how a few of these salvaged treasures can start fitting together.”
So: Go forth, Elizabeth, and indulge thy inner bag lady.
Feb 7th, 2008
Alma Alexander
Eh, been there, done that, eaten the T-shirt in frustration…
Seriously. I know the feeling. For me it usually turns up when some editor starts demanding that the sketchy synopsis they’ve just been given “include more details” - which, as you so cogently put it above, I don’t yet have because they aren’t yet in my head….
Why do we do this, again….? [grin]
Feb 7th, 2008
Dave Wilson
It’s particularly difficult when you have a bunch of projects and deadlines because your brain really REALLY wants that momentary lull - the eye of the storm - that comes with completion. I know I have to sort of force myself through patches like that with a well imagined boot whacking me in the butt…
Sometimes the words flow, and sometimes you couldn’t write a haiku to save your soul…
-DNW
Feb 7th, 2008
Janet Berliner
Post-partum blues. I find I can avoid the syndrome by making certain that I start the next project well before finishing the first. Doing something new helps or something you rarely do, like a day at a spa or horseback riding. I once got over it by riding a camel.
It also helps to scream a lot.
–Janet
Feb 7th, 2008
John Skipp
Dear Elizabeth –
It’s just the simple fact of the matter: YOU CAN’T DRIVE ON AN EMPTY TANK. There comes a point — often at the end of a long journey — where you’re running on fumes if you’re running at all, and have no choice but to pull over.
So you rest, and refuel. Take in, instead of putting out. Make fossil fuel out of raw experience.
You know you gotta do it, so you might as well enjoy.
And, of course, it’s all about PAYING ATTENTION. There is no substitute.
I’m right at the end of that cycle right now, about to hit the book-length road again. But I treasure those moments. They are their own reward.
So have fun, and cut yourself a little slack! You deserve it.
And when you’re ready to roll, you’ll know it. You always do.
Yer pal,
Skipp
Feb 8th, 2008
Elizabeth Bear
Brian, I like the bag lady image. Found art! What can we make from this junk, anyway?
(I need more junk.)
(I also need to get some stupid administrative work done today, even though I don’t wanna.)
Alma, that’s what we call The Glamor, I think.
Thanks for the comments, all.
Feb 8th, 2008
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