Coping Strategies

On Five Years of Writer's Block

1. I’m not a very organized person. I am very clean but I am not at all bothered by piles of things where they don’t necessarily belong. I am, however, married to a very organized person who firmly believes there is a place for every thing and every thing has its place. Sometimes, as I watch her organizing, I will feel a fleeting desire to organize some things. I’ve purchased two battery caddy daddies, one for New York and one for L.A. and I’ve put an assortment of batteries into the respective caddies. I have arranged and rearranged my home office. I’ve tried to create a semblance of order on my desk. I’ve sorted through the catchall bin on the kitchen island and neatly made little piles of the detritus therein. I’ve moved stacks of books from one place to another. I have folded and refolded the clothes in my dresser. I have given unneeded things to Goodwill because there is always a demand for extended sizes. I have purchased small bins and medium bins and large bins to put items in as if by dividing the detritus I can conquer it. There is something satisfying about these small, finite tasks. I may not be able to write a good paragraph, but I can absolutely organize things that don’t really need organizing.

2. During the pandemic, I took up baking and cake decorating. I told myself that baking was a good activity to do while writing because there were built in breaks. Make the cake, put it in the oven, go work for 29 minutes, pause to take the cake out, put the layers on cooling racks, go work for 90 minutes, pause to level the cakes and add a crumb coat, stick that in the fridge to set, go work for 30 minutes, pause to ice the cake and admire the finished product. In theory this works but often times, I go to my desk and watch TikToks for 29 minutes, pause to take the cake out, put the layers on cooling racks, return to watching TikToks and tumble down some truly fascinating (bizarre) rabbit holes, and rinse and repeat. This has, of course, inspired me to start an essay about TikTok, but I cannot say when I will finish it. My underwear drawer is impeccable right now.

3. I used to be extraordinarily e-mail responsive and in some ways, I still am. I may not be able to finish a good paragraph but I can certainly write some snappy e-mails. I can file things away. I can delete. I can unsubscribe from an infinite number of mailing lists I seem to be on. But also, I can check my email peeking through my fingers, holding my breath for fear of an understandably exasperated editor pushed to their absolute limit of patience. It’s a minefield in there. The editors are furious. I feel like the worst writer alive. I worry that my career is going to implode. I miss writing the way I want to write.