the cure
John Roberts sat at his desk staring at a computer screen, he scratched his hipster beard and began to wonder what happened to his creativity. It had been years since he felt like a real writer and had been wearing on his self confidence. He frequently day dreamed about the past when he still felt like someone with something to say,
He tried everything. He tried reading constantly, he tried caffeine, he tried writing about relationships. He tried a disciplined approach of forcing himself to write crap everyday with the hope that eventually he would get back into his old rythm. Nothing clicked or worked.
He started to drown himself in comic books as a way of standing in awe at the sensational work of the authors that he cherished. One in particular stood out: Grant Morrison.
Grant Morrison, the Scottish hero of the graphic novel. A man who wrote some of John's favorite peices of literature. He always said that when he was in a jam, he would write himself into one of his works of fiction and he would gradually take on characteristics that he wrote into himself. For example: he once wrote about a character that he bore a resemblance to as being sick and almost dying and shortly thereafter he was in the hospital with blood poisoning.
From there on out Grant wrote his character as a peaceful warrior with a hot girlfriend.
John decided to take a cue from Grant and write himself into a short story that he would post to his blogspot account. He had this insane idea that he would write about himself as a blogger who inserts himself into a short story as a way of curing his writers block. He thought that if he could emulate his character in real life it might finally solve all of his frustrations over his lack of creative output.
So he wrote. He sat in his room and typed away, nervously pecking at the keys hoping that his experiment would pay off. He wrote about his character having a moderate amount of success and then feeling better about his writing again. He left the ending open because he didn't want to write himself into a box.
Over the next few weeks, John started to change. He had ideas all the time. He would sit down almost daily and write. He would write in a little notebook he carried around, he would post to his blog, he just had to keep on writing.
Every story got better and better and John started to feel better. All he had to do was keep up with himself.
He tried everything. He tried reading constantly, he tried caffeine, he tried writing about relationships. He tried a disciplined approach of forcing himself to write crap everyday with the hope that eventually he would get back into his old rythm. Nothing clicked or worked.
He started to drown himself in comic books as a way of standing in awe at the sensational work of the authors that he cherished. One in particular stood out: Grant Morrison.
Grant Morrison, the Scottish hero of the graphic novel. A man who wrote some of John's favorite peices of literature. He always said that when he was in a jam, he would write himself into one of his works of fiction and he would gradually take on characteristics that he wrote into himself. For example: he once wrote about a character that he bore a resemblance to as being sick and almost dying and shortly thereafter he was in the hospital with blood poisoning.
From there on out Grant wrote his character as a peaceful warrior with a hot girlfriend.
John decided to take a cue from Grant and write himself into a short story that he would post to his blogspot account. He had this insane idea that he would write about himself as a blogger who inserts himself into a short story as a way of curing his writers block. He thought that if he could emulate his character in real life it might finally solve all of his frustrations over his lack of creative output.
So he wrote. He sat in his room and typed away, nervously pecking at the keys hoping that his experiment would pay off. He wrote about his character having a moderate amount of success and then feeling better about his writing again. He left the ending open because he didn't want to write himself into a box.
Over the next few weeks, John started to change. He had ideas all the time. He would sit down almost daily and write. He would write in a little notebook he carried around, he would post to his blog, he just had to keep on writing.
Every story got better and better and John started to feel better. All he had to do was keep up with himself.