Julie has an excellent essay about how to turn off writer’s block and just write.
No, pardon me, jot. Or note. Because here, you don’t do any “writing”. You just take notes: on your surroundings, on your thoughts, on the stories you have in your mind. Quality isn’t important – they’re just your own personal notes on whatever subject catches your fancy.
And after you have enough of these notes:
You need to switch gears and become an editor for a little bit. Imagine that you got a promotion from being a typist to an editor. [...] The key here is to focus on what’s in front of you and ignore who typed it. You have no attachment to this typist whatsoever. I repeat: do not feel sympathy for the person who sent you these notes or care about how much time the person spent typing.
The number of things you reject may be large. I’m here to tell you that it’s ok if you pass on 99% of the stuff. The reason gems are called “gems†is because they’re not so easy to come by. There will always be more. Remember to detach yourself from this no-name typist and focus solely on the writing in front of you. Just because you’re rejecting 99% of the drivel doesn’t mean the typist stinks. In fact, the typist is incredibly bright and talented and one day, she may even become a writer.
In short:
Step 1: Carry a notebook with you at all times. Record what you see, hear, and think. Keep filling up your notebook until it’s time for step 2.
Step 2: Gather your notes, pick out worthwhile things, and assemble them into a coherent whole.
Oh, you’re still there with a skeptical look on your face. I know what that look means. Isn’t what I describe just a matter of semantics?  Aren’t I just splitting hairs on the meaning of “writing?â€Â Aren’t observing, transcribing, and revising called “writing?â€Â I knew it wouldn’t be easy to fool you. Here’s the thing: Semantics makes all the difference in the world, especially for something as gut-wrenching and emotionally-laden as writing. Being a writer means baring your soul, leaving you naked and unprotected from scorn, ridicule, and humiliation. Or worse: indifference. If you write something and someone doesn’t like it, it means you’re a big, fat excuse for a writer, so pathetic that even the mule can do better. Your soul is crushed, your ego bruised, your hopes smashed. The minute I even begin to think about writing, I become paralyzed. When I become paralyzed, I don’t write a single word, further underscoring just how unworthy I am of being a writer. If I think I’m a typist doing some transcribing, it flows easily and naturally. That is why I recommend shifting your perception about what it is that you’re doing. It is all about perception.
So, if you want to become a writer, stop thinking like a writer and start thinking like a typist. Got it? Now go type!
Link (via kate blogs about writing)
