The Magic Writing Coat

What do you do when you sit at your desk and the blank page is looking back at you like a stubborn child? No matter how many Haribos or trips to soft play on offer, this laptop is simply not going to play ball and write you a thousand words of fiction gold. So, you need to invoke the writing gods some other way, right?

The above situation is one I’ve been in many, many times, and I’d like to talk about the various ways I’ve tried to get around it. Some successful, some… not so much.

• Going for a walk. The big one. The stone-cold classic. This works, to be fair. Getting outside for some fresh air and a viewpoint beyond the window in front of my desk is probably one of the best ways to break out of a slump. Endorphins, North Yorkshire air, and the feel of a welly boot underfoot does it for me almost every time.
• Lighting a candle. Another favourite, and one I think I decided to try after reading Joanne Harris’s Ten Things About Writing about using objects as a psychological prop to get into a writing headspace. She mentions a candlestick, which sounds very classy, but I find a knock-off Jo Malone candle from Aldi works just as nicely. The rule is, once it’s lit, it’s writing time, and it’s pretty effective.
• Listening to writing podcasts. Sometimes when I’m sitting, staring vacantly at the screen, it’s easy to forget that I’m doing this as an actual job now. This feeling is what I like to think of as the bastard love-child of imposter syndrome and procrastination – it doesn’t really matter if I just start scrolling Twitter anyway, as it’s not real work. The best way around this for me is to listen to podcast interviews with authors, or writers just chatting about their writing life. It reminds me that no matter what the process is, there are people out there whose books started on a laptop just like mine, and all I need to do is write it. Some favourites – The Honest Authors Podcast, In Writing with Hattie Crisell, and Novel Experience with Kate Sawyer.
• The Magic Writing Coat. No, really. My partner’s mum once bought me this very exotic looking cardigan. It’s grey, knee length, and has a jazzy multi-coloured aztec-style pattern. I started wearing it when I was writing during the colder months and the room was a bit chilly, but then I realised it made me feel all whimsical and writery, and evoked images of a struggling writer in a Parisian garret in December. So, that worked too.
• Writing something else. Anything will do if it fills a blank screen for the time being. Blog posts (like this one), ideas or outlines for other novels, editing another manuscript that needs tending to, or writing a short story or flash fiction for a competition. I particularly like the last one, as I’m a fan of nervously refreshing an inbox to see if I’ve been shortlisted or not. See above re: procrastination.
• Pomodoro technique. We can file this under things that are not so successful for me, but I’ve listed it as others swear by it. If you aren’t familiar, it’s a time-management method where you set an alarm and work in 25 minute stretches and have timed breaks. No thanks. My smartphone already has way more control over me than I’d like, so letting the countdown timer tell me what to do feels like I’m edging too close to my very own Black Mirror story.

So there we have it – some of the ways you can break out of being paralysed by an empty page. I’d love to know what other people like to do when the words aren’t flowing, whether it’s consulting your tarot cards, going for a run, or sinking into a pint of gin. We all have our ways.