Writing Through "the void”
The best advice I ever got was from a mentor who said, “You need to make an appointment with yourself and keep it, because if you are not in that seat when inspiration pays you a visit, you are going to miss it— and it may never come back.”
To be clear, she did not mean that all hope is lost, or that I might never be inspired again. What she was talking about is that particular inspiration on that particular day. In other words, magical writing only can happen when you are writing. If you do not make and keep that appointment with yourself, then there is no window for inspiration to deliver the goods. Sounds like a good bit of pragmatism sprinkled with a little mysticism. But, it also happens to be the best advice I have been given for “writing through the void.”
Every writer encounters “the void” at some point, and it’s usually right after you have finished something really great— a verse, a chapter, a snippet of a conversation you’ve been having in your head for weeks. The more polished the prose, the more profound the point, the snappier the dialogue, the vaster “the void” can feel on the other side. Starting again feels daunting, especially if yours is the kind of fiction that does not lend itself to thorough outlining.
So, what do you do? I say, revert to my mentor’s F.I.T.S. management system, that is, “Fanny In The Seat!” That is the best way to “write through the void.”
I have encountered “the void” many times at 5:01am when my coffee is in my thermos, the dog is back to sleep after eating in 10 seconds, and the only other thing I have is a smudge of ink at the top of the page because I really need the tip of my pend to be perfectly clean before I can start writing. In that hushed darkness before the sun rises, before the birds start chirping, and the trash truck are still far off, there are two things that always get me across “the void,” the setting and the character.
There were so many times while I was writing and re-writing Memorial Day when my only way out of “the void” was to try to imagine what Joe DaSilva was looking at. Maybe it was something he was holding, or maybe he was performing at task that required uncommon knowledge that I needed to explain simply enough for readers to understand as if they could have done the exact same thing themselves. Another time, Joe was feeling just as lost as me about what was going to happen next as he ruminated over the fate of an abandoned hotel at the river’s edge.
Every time I felt that I was bumbling into “the void,” something amazing occurred. Something unplanned happened to Joe and his life story took an unexpected turn (kind of like life). He noticed something, then he considered that thing, and suddenly “the void” became clearer. He could not stop noticing things, even if he was not aware of the change within him. In the process of “writing through the void,” I also learned about myself as a writer and a person.
As a writer, it really came down to trusting my mentor’s advice— or was it an exhortation? Be at the desk when inspiration arrives or you will miss it. As a person, “writing through the void” has made me more empathic as well. Writers spend weeks, months, years with characters, and yet it can be jarring to discover that there is something we do not know about them when they do something we cannot explain.
And there are those moments while you are “writing through the void” when inspiration arrives, and you discover something that you did not know and cannot explain about yourself. If real empathy is at the other side of “the void,” then there is no better reason to write through it!
I would love to hear about your experience “writing through the void.” Re-post or re-share this blog entry, and hit subscribe at the bottom of the page on brendanwalshbooks.com.