Writing is terrifying. It shouldn't be, but it is. I've got no kind of public, yet I can't stop wondering what people will think. I'm on no kind of stage, yet I've got stage fright. I'm already embarrassed about mistakes I haven't even written yet. Consequently, often when I sit down to write, I end up surfing the web—the modern symptom of writer's block.

I've tried various strategies for tricking myself into actually writing. One of my favorites is to dictate the first draft. I get myself driving on an unhurried freeway. I ask myself a question and pretend to be interested. Then I simply talk out my answer, capturing the results with a digital recorder. When I get home, I transcribe the recording, then edit with a crowbar and hacksaw. I've had pretty good results with this technique, believe it or not. Best of all, it gets me writing and I don't even feel it. It's like putting cough syrup in your kid's ice cream.

Yesterday I discovered another weapon in the war against writer's block. I call it the Planning Document-Draft Document Bait and Switch. PDDDBS, for short.

I found it by accident. I was working on a chapter for a book. I had created a blank document with the proper formatting (Times New Roman, 11 point font, nifty headers and footers) to act as fertile ground for the chapter. I then created—as a diversion from actually writing—a second document. This one was formatted in an "informal" way, with a sans-serif font and colorful headings. I would use it for planning and note taking.

Rather than switching back to the main document, I lingered in the planning phase a little while. I planned and thought and researched and took notes for half an hour. It helped, actually. It helped me understand the chapter I was about to write. In a flush of confidence, I saved the planning document and switched over to the "real" one. As I did so, I felt the footlights on the edge of stage blaze to life.

The cursor kept winking at me, like a vengeful prompter. I heard the deafening silence of the audience. And I crawled away to hide in my planning document.

That's when I discovered it: The PDDDBS Technique.

Underneath all the planning I created a new section called "How To Start?" Then I started.

Suddenly, I realized, I was writing, but I wasn't nervous.

I was all alone.

Nobody was looking.

I wasn't "writing," I was just "trying out ideas."

Best of all, the words appeared in a chummy sans-serif font. Even the style of the page told me I was home, out from under the spotlight.

I wrote a page or two. Then I read it, and it was okay. I copied it over to the real document. There was a smattering of applause from the audience, and it was enough to keep me writing through the end of the chapter.

Labels: writing