Thoughts on Writer’s Block | R. T. Kaelin

About the author

R.T. Kaelin is a loving husband, father of two wonderful children, and a lifelong resident of Ohio, currently in Columbus.  After graduating from college, for the first twelve years of his career he has worked as a software engineer.  After creatively writing a local gaming group, it was suggested he try his hand at writing something more prodigious.  Encouraged, he finally committed to the undertaking, writing the first book of his The Children of the White Lions series, Progeny.  When he is not writing, he loves to travel and has a passion for cooking.

You can find out more about the author on his website (as well as various methods to follow him online and contact him).

Writer’s Block

I have a confession. I have yet to suffer from writer’s block.

Now, in order for me to make that statement without my nose growing, I need to place some qualifiers around the claim.

I have never reached a point where I simply cannot write. Sure, there are plenty of times I’ll stare at that cursed cursor on the screen, blinking, blinking, blinking. At times, I can hear it taunting me. Every so often in said situation, this frustration-laced response might—just might—have appeared on in my manuscript.

fsdahjksdfkhjfesadhjkfasdkhjfasdjkl;asdf

Once that happens, I delete the offending gibberish, add a capitalized “HERE HERE” to the manuscript and move on. I might go to another as yet unwritten chapter. I might go flesh out upcoming chapter outlines. Or I go edit early chapters. If I choose the latter course of action, I often go back to the LAST scene with the same group of characters and do an editing pass through it. That helps get me back in the moment and in their heads, allowing me to return to my “HERE HERE” and resume my effort.

One last method to get past those stubborn “what happens next?” moments: get up and walk away. Go do something else. Read. Play a game. Take the dog for a walk. Me? I go for a ride on my Harley. Some of my best ideas show up on the winding country roads east of my house. Then, when I get home, I type.

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