I like writing. That’s the truth of the matter. There are many people who really don’t like writing. It’s as though someone has tied them to a chair and plans to slowly separate their fingers from their fingernails. Painful.
That was never me. Words just flow together, or they used to.
I don’t have writer’s block. You have to be a writer to have a block. But what is a stinking block anyway? Is it a writer just tapping their fingers against the keyboard hoping that the end of their story will bubble from their guts?
No such luck for me. You have to be a writer to have writer’s block. And you see, I just can’t seem to bring myself to write. Whatever is keeping me from writing is much more threatening than just a block. Surely, it’s a writer’s lion or a writer’s nightmare monster—maybe they studied at Monsters U from Pixar?
I don’t have writer’s block. I have writer’s dragon.
My dragon chooses the name Berni. She’s a sly creature and changes size and color like a mirror. Berni likes to swallow my extra time with good things like writing letters, reading novel writing books, doing handstands in the yard, pushing little boys on swings, and hanging out with friends. Those are all good things, but Berni likes to remind me to do them right when I finally sit to write.
She’s like that. She’s my crazy-maker. And she loves it.
How can I not love my writer’s dragon? Of course, you have to be a writer to have a dragon. And between Berni and work—well—I might have to turn in my writing license.
Berni is a very loveable creature. She like blowing bubbles, but her breath often pops them or melts the bubble wand. Berni also has a fondness for doing cartwheels across the yard. If you’ve never seen a dragon do a cartwheel, I suggest you sit yourself down, try to write, and gain your own writer’s dragon. Then, tell the little guy to do cartwheels for you.
There’s nothing quite like it—between the wings, the long tail, and teeny tiny arms. Dragon cartwheels might be the most comedic thing that you see, at least this week.
By next week, you’ll still be watching Berni doing cartwheels across the yard rather than finishing your bestselling comedy. Seriously.
Hmm. You might be one of those truly unfortunate writers with both a writer’s block and a writer’s dragon. Once you move the block out of the way, the other is sure to come roaring out demanding to play. So you do play only to find that nothing has been written so you push the block back into place so you keep your dragon contained. But then, all the fun has drained away.
The thing about being a writer or at least so I’ve been told, since I’m not a writer, is that you must become a dragon tamer and a weight lifter. Both of these require practice.
Weight lifting takes hours upon hours in the gym. But you learn the correct posture to pick up those blocks of weight and your muscles strengthen to muscle those horrid weights away. Writers must take a hint from these muscle-y guys and girls and learn to muscle their writer’s blocks out of the way.
Dragon tamers, like lion tamers, need to know their monsters. There’s a time to tangle and there’s a time to get the heck out of the cage. Luckily, writer’s dragons aren’t so deadly; however, they can be deadly to a writer’s productivity. Teach your dragon when to come out and play and when to hole up for nap time. Make sure nap time and writing time coincide.
I’m not a writer. And I don’t have writer’s blocks, but if I did have writer’s blocks, I’d make Berni build a castle out of them. That would be fun.
What About You?
How do you counter writer’s dragon or the more mild form of writer’s block?
