By R. D. McManes

"W h e n  the   W o r d s   D i e d"

Sunday May 17th 1998; just another day for most but not for me. You see that afternoon the words died... the dreaded writer's block, and when you are a poet, there isn’t anything that feels worse, for without the words you can’t write. I suppose the most terrifying aspect is the incredible emptiness and the fear, that you may never be able to write again. I wish I could compare it to something to make it more understandable like perhaps riding a bike but with a bike once you know how you never forget, and while most things in life are learned , such as reading and writing there is much more involved here. I guess it’s not so much the words themselves, but the style with which they are written.

A style you have developed and suddenly it’s gone. This was a significant event to me because in over thirty years I’ve never ran out of words not even once, until this day. I tried to shrug it off thinking it happens to everybody but damn, not to me. Outward I maintained some semblance of humanity but inside I churned with fear that I would never be able to write again. I tried to force myself to write staring at an empty page, looking out the window trying desperately to write something, anything, just some words, but I could not even sprawl a meaningless phrase, all I could do was stare and think, stare and think .

I tried to shut it out of my mind to clear my thoughts and reset my thinking process but still no words came. The more I pushed and shoved the deeper the words fled, I could almost imagine them running from my grasp, dancing out of reach, toying and teasing me. Oh but for just one line to give me some type of relief, but alas no words would come, not a single one. Finally I gave up on trying to write and just shoved it back into the dark recesses of my head. I decided that maybe if I just kept busy and got some rest maybe tomorrow would be a better day. Of course no matter how hard I tried not to think about it I did anyway.

I know sleep came quickly but I woke several times in anticipation of the return of my words, but they still seemed to run from me just past arms length and no matter how hard I tried, I just could not catch them. Finally I awoke to the first light of morning, the birds were singing and I realized all was right once more. No longer did the words run from me but once again flowed from inside as they had before. The words, my words were back and I hope I never go through this again, for I am far too old and have written too long to have to iron out any new writing wrinkles.

In over thirty years of writing I have never had the flow of words come to a dead stop as they did that day. The bright side is now I can relate when someone says "I have writer’s block" the bad side is who knows what lifted it for sure. I don’t have a clue do you? If by chance you do have a solution I would be very interested in a cure as I certainly have no desire to go through even a minute of writer’s block again. Oh, and if you would please give me a lifetime guarantee (preferably in writing) that I’ll never have writer’s block again I would greatly appreciate it. 

Here are some practical guides which will help with the technical aspects of writing. 

The Practice of Writing
A collection of essays by David Lodge. 1996, Allen Lane: The Penguin Press, New York. ISBN: 0-7139-9173-9. A series of essays on writers, critics and the process of writing, I found this book to be inspiring when I was suffering from the dreaded writers block.

Beacon Book of Essays by Contemporary American Women
A collection of essays by women edited by Wendy Martin.1996, Beacon Press, Boston. ISBN: 0-8070-6347-9. This collection ranges far and wide in topic, viewpoint and style. Martin has done a great job in selecting and organizing the powerful work that makes up this anthology.

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