Things I promise not to do if you invite me over to your place with your boyfriend.
(For Caran, who invited me over to help her write while her unbelievably cool boyfriend was also there. It was a great experience, and they’re both wonderful people.)
(a) Hit on you.
(B) Hit on your boyfriend.
(C) Hit on your cat. I cannot, however, stop Salem, my cat, from hitting on me.
(D) Stare into a Palantir long enough to accidentally pledge eternal service to the Dark Lord in durance vile.
(E) Summon invisible demons from the Necronomicon without also bringing the complete set of banishing spells and a backup exorcist on speed-dial.
(F) Accidentally finish reading the Necronomicon aloud and unleash something that makes writer’s block look like a mild case of the sniffles.
Things I will bring with me if I visit your place:
(A) A clipboard on which to write.
(B) Story ideas with which to inspire us (ghostly trains barreling through the night, orc-troll alliances that inevitably collapse, demons stealing souls in broad daylight, a tribe of elves that ate themselves but kept growing anyway, a Dark Lord dramatically breaking a sword over his knee, and a spaceship flying straight into the face of an angry Godling).
(C) Absolutely NO catnip. (Salem already has enough chaotic energy.)
(D) A carefully chosen axe (the right one can fix *any* problem, including severing writer’s block—or at least my parietal lobe if things get truly desperate).
(E) A shiny orb that functions as a budget Palantir for productive staring sessions.
(F) A well-thumbed copy of Lovecraft, Conan, and John Carter stories to read aloud when the brain needs negotiating or outright bribery.
(G) Excerpts from the Necronomicon (with helpful margin notes on not finishing what you start, plus emergency counter-spells).
(H) A scroll containing the ancient unlocking spell: *“Upon thy brain this spell I cast: I unlock now thy words amassed. Pick up thy wand and sword and fight. Get up, get up, GET UP AND WRITE.”
Plus two backup variations in case the first one only produces haikus.
(I) Notes for rewriting *The Lord of the Rings* with myself as the main character (depressingly easy, but we’ll monitor the alcohol bill and the ego damage).
(J) Prompts for attempting a Victorian romance novel (because *Xena: Warrior Princess* totally counts as research, right?).
(K) Single malt whiskey—to be enjoyed *only* after the block breaks (I’ve been saving money by not drinking during the dry spell, which is apparently a silver lining).
(L) Bagels, because writer’s block is a certain kind of freedom and you can still have a bagel. Possibly two. With cream cheese.
(M) A spare clipboard in case Salem eats the first one mid-session.
Things I Will Do If I Come Visit You And Your Partner To Help You Write
(A) Drink coffee. (Responsibly. We’re not trying to invent new words like “coolth” again.)
(B) Write.
(C) Write on the cat while drinking coffee. (Gently. With erasable marker. Salem has very strong opinions and sharp claws.)
(D) Stare at the screen (or the budget Palantir) until the words come—or until we make new friends with whatever eldritch entity shows up.
(E) Negotiate with my brain via barter, sleep, dramatic crying, writing from an imaginary ancient tomb, or threatening it with the axe.
(F) Attempt to rewrite *The Lord of the Rings* with myself as protagonist and immediately realize it’s too easy and far too self-indulgent.
(G) Try writing a Victorian romance novel and see how badly it can possibly go before it turns into cosmic horror.
(H) Consult the Necronomicon carefully, then take the hint from Abdul Alhazred and actually finish the damn thing this time.
(I) Become 18th level and cast the “Wish” spell (results may vary depending on which edition of the universe we’re in this week).
(J) Appreciate the hidden upsides of any lingering block: my life suddenly has no meaning so I don’t have to wonder about it, I have time to learn law or surgery, and there’s still room for a bagel (or three).
(K) Write satire about writer’s block that accidentally turns into a short story, then remember the original idea before I lose it completely in the haze.
(L) Cast the unlocking spell, get up, and actually write — or at least dramatically gesture with the clipboard.
(M) Debate whether writer’s block is a horrible affliction or a twisted form of vacation.
Things I will not do when I visit:
(A) Spontaneously learn Turkish.
(B) Make a superabundance of jokes about your boyfriend, the coder.
(C) Write on the cat in permanent marker. (Salem deserves better.)
(D) Stare into the Palantir so long that I end up serving the Dark Lord for real.
(E) Summon invisible demons without the banishing spells (they get very motivated when you don’t finish things).
(F) Drink and write in a way that produces vocabulary choices we’ll all regret in the morning. Or drink alcohol at all, for that matter.
(G) Spend so long meta-satirizing about writer’s block that I forget the actual story idea and revert to having it.
(H) Wish writer’s block on you, your boyfriend, or Salem (I’ll save that benediction for my own troubles, pains, and shocks).
(I) Take a “nice walk” through the fires which forged Gleipnir unless the block is truly apocalyptic.
Things I will do when I leave:
(A) Give/Accept awkward hugs.
(B) Give doubly-awkward hugs.
(C) Find out, too late, that your cat has shed all over my coat and eaten my clipboard. (Salem is efficient like that.)
(D) Discover whether we cured the block or accidentally invented a new half-decade strain with “cool details like….like..like,,, we’ll get back to you on that.”
(E) Offer this benediction: May your troubles and pains and shocks go through their own writer’s blocks. (Writer’s block is a horrible affliction—though not as bad as book addiction. I wouldn’t wish it on rocks or stones or trees… or coders.)
(F) If the block somehow survives, remind myself it’s an excellent time to become a lawyer or surgeon… or just go home and have another bagel while plotting the next attempt.
(G) Thank Salem for the inspiration (and the fur on my coat) and promise to return with a fresh clipboard.
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Jeff Mach likes to talk about himself in the third person. Do you know you can get his audiobooks at Audible? You can. Also, if you like this, you might like Writer’s Block.
