How to Beat Writer's Block

Sep 29, 2007 - 00:18 AM PST

This article will give you the write stuff.

Things You'll Need

* Steady stream of Welfare checks
* Forehead dowel
* A sense of irony

Step One
Accept the fact that you're human.

Unless, of course, you’re not. You may need to accept the fact that your mother’s from Prague and your father’s a wombat. This may be difficult to accept. You may need to take up Kundalini yoga to cope. But I digress … because my Ritalin wore off four hours ago and I can barely remember what I’m supposed to be writing about. Oh, right …

Step Two
Write what you know.

Which in my case is jack. And that would be Jack Rabinowitz, the boy who broke my heart in Hebrew school. Who am I kidding, I’m just a wanna be Heeb, dreaming of a nice piece of … what do they call the holy tasteless saltine – the one they try to push on you around Easter because they’re jealous of the chocolate bunnies that we binge on to celebrate the rebirth of their dead king? There’s just nothing like a big hollow bunny … unless, of course, it’s filled with that brothy Red Sea soup, the one with the big dough balls … back to writing.

Step Three
Write like you talk.

Which in my case is, “Ungggh,” because I’m a mute. There I said it, or typed it. Back off, don’t judge me. But, if I had a special talkie talk implant that allowed me to be accepted in this society … there I go, getting angry again. Deep breathe, into my silent unexpressive mouth. OK, my point is, if I could talk, writing things like “Did I axe you? Well … OK den,” would probably not make for very high fallutin’ reading.

Step Four
Write something revealing.

I have small urine stain on the outside of my corduroys. Is that revealing enough for you? Like it’s not enough that I already told you I’m a mute that dreams of one of those Buck Rogers voodoo speak box thingies. I’m not proud, but I’m honest.

Step Five
Write simply.

Which in my case is simple, as I have the vocabulary of an eight year old with a head injury. The truth is, back to number four – write something revealing – I was in an Amtrak accident when I was seven. I live to reveal and reveal to live. And revile for writing that. See, my writing’s improving.

Step Six
Relax.

I wrote that word two hours ago, when I passed out standing up in my kitchen. Go ahead and laugh. There’s nothing funny about being a narcolepetic mute.

Step Seven
Play with rhyme.

OK, roses are red … violets are blue … Writing is for people who can speak, frock a suck … suck a duck. I’m such a schmuck. I miss Jack. He broke up with me because he said I didn’t listen. Did I mention I’m also deaf? There I go again, revealing. That’s how dedicated I am to becoming a better writer. I’m working on a new series of books. The title of the first book is “There Are No Victims … Just Deaf Mutes.” It’s part of my “Lord of the No Phone Rings” trilogy. The second book is “Getting the Love You Want From Someone Who Communicates in Grunts,” and the third, “I’m OK … It’s the Hearing Person’s Fault.” I’m contemplating a fourth, “Love is Letting Go of Sound.” I’m taking pre-orders, and will personally have someone else autograph the books for you, because, well, I have no hands. I’m typing with a forehead dowel.

Good night and good luck. Clooney for President. Rosemary, that is. And what I want most of all is … peas in the middle east. Stay proud. Stay Oprah.