This was the week I had planned to start a new book. I spent a couple of weeks on character development and plotting, writing the synopsis, and on Monday, it was supposed to be time to actually start writing the book.
But being Monday, it was also laundry day. And the kitchen needed cleaning, and ... I knew what I was doing. I was afraid to start the book. It wasn't Writer's Block. It was fear, plain and simple.
I knew how I wanted to start it, which character to begin with and where to begin. But I was still afraid. Afraid it wouldn't be as cool as I wanted it to be. As cool as it needs to be. As cool as it sounded when I came up with the idea... the thought of turning ideas into actual words on paper had me backing away.
I've always understood Writer's Block to be a sort of paralysis. A state of staring at the blank page because the Words Just Won't Come. I couldn't didn't want to go look at that blank page. I've never really Had Writer's Block. (I know, I know. Knock on wood. I could get it any time.) I've had The Stupids (where the narrative is stupid, the dialogue is stupid, the characters are stupid and everything is just stupid, Stupid, STUPID!!!). I've had The Doubts (where I doubt whether I can actually do it, whatever IT might be). I've even had knock-down-drag-out Fights with my characters, because they refuse to do what I know darn good and well they are going to do. (My characters' cases of the guilts that they get before they've done something can really cause problems.)
Fights with characters can definitely stall things out, but I have learned that they can be resolved with some very strange-looking arguing with one's self. (Me: "Don't tell me you wouldn't make love to your heroine in a dangerous place with a busted-down door! If she jumps into your arms and wraps her legs around you, you cannot tell me you will not forget everything else to make love to her right then and there!" Myself (on behalf of the hero): "Well, okay, you're right. I would...but I'd feel really guilty about it afterward.")
When I make myself go into my lovely office with my lovely new desk (3rd picture down in the link), and actually face that blank page, it's not very long before I start writing Something. Anything. (Which, I believe is where the Stupids come from.) The problem is that fear. It can keep me away from the writing desk altogether. Which is why I make myself write first.
If I go in and sit down and begin, I generally discover before too long that it's not as scary as I thought, and I can do it after all, and, well, there are no monsters under the bed, except for the ones I put there to keep for research purposes. Lots of things are like that, don't you think? (BTW, I got my 6 pages written on Monday, plus a little more.)