Charles Bukowski wrote a poem that begins, “If it doesn’t come bursting out of you in spite of everything, don’t do it.” The title of the work assures confused readers that the poet is indeed talking about writing, rather than a bodily function of some sort. (It’s helpfully called “So You Want to Be a Writer.”) However, the worrisome implication that writing should be involuntary remains.
I optimistically taped this poem above my desk in my first year of college, ready to declare my English major and more than confident that I was a True Writer. Bukowski, in all his lowercase glory, had me convinced that writer’s block was a figment of the wannabe’s imagination, and I was no wannabe! When I hit a major bout of writer’s block later that semester, however, the mindset of this mythical True Writer quickly became problematic.
In his haste to differentiate himself from the crowd, Bukowski implies that those who experience any kind of creative drought should just give up altogether—but where is the encouragement in that? Elitism like this goes hand-in-hand with the persona perpetuated by the likes of Jack Kerouac, who maintained that he wrote On the Road in three weeks and sweated through countless T-shirts while doing so. What an intimidating standard to live up to! What does that mean for writers who run low on inspiration, or don’t know what to write about, or stop to do laundry during that sweaty three-week stretch?
The fact of the matter is that there’s no such thing as a True Writer. We should worry less about fitting into a dated, romanticized mold and stop comparing ourselves to others. No matter what era you write in—whether you’re a 21st-century blogger or unemployed and sitting in front of a typewriter—you’ll experience a creative block at some point. That’s okay. Those who tell you otherwise are either lying or named Charles Bukowski—or maybe both.
There’s a simple freedom in realizing that your writing doesn’t have to violently burst out of you “in spite of everything.” You’re allowed to take a break, step away for coffee, leave it for a few days and then come back. You can write multiple drafts—in fact, that’s recommended. You can edit for punctuation, grammar, and clarity. Perhaps that doesn’t flow as well or sound as sexy when broken into strategically enjambed lines, but aren’t you more likely to create if your very identity as a writer isn’t hanging in the balance? If creativity is intimidating, the results will inevitably suffer. But then again, maybe that was Bukowski’s way of narrowing down the competition.
Maybe I’ve picked on him a bit, but I like to think the poet meant well. You probably shouldn’t be writing if your sole motivation is wanting “women in your bed”—I agree with him there. But “if you have to sit for hours staring at your computer screen,” by all means carry on. You’re fighting through the block, and there’s a poetry in that, too.