Primal Play for writers - ending blocks and finding flow

Dissolve blocks, prevent blocks
I’ve suffered plenty from writing blocks. So I studied the books about blocks intensively. But the more I studied them, the more I seemed to get tangled up in them. Finally, I tried a different strategy…

I decided to focus on getting to flow instead of on my blocks.

This is in accord with the theory that what you feed grows. Giving all my attention to my blocks kept me trapped. By focusing on flow, I discovered some things that have made all the difference for me.

I discovered that sometimes when I was blocked, it wasn’t really a block. It was just that I hadn’t done enough preparation and development. I didn’t know my issue well enough. I was too distant. It was too much of a stranger with it.

So the block was not some mystical thing. I didn’t need to go to the psych books to figure it out. I just needed to slow down and get deeper in with what I was writing about. Get intimate with it.

I discovered that when I wrote a story about a lived experience, something I had experienced deeply, it was usually easy to get into a flow state where there were no blocks.

And I discovered something important about how creative work happens. At least how it happens for me.

There was one chapter in my first book that I kept hammering away at but it kept defeating me. I filled it up with words, writing and rewriting. Yet I was missing the heart of the thing.

One day I got so mad I went on strike. And during the next week, I noticed that my subconscious was still cooking the chapter. It was working away happily on its own schedule. It didn’t care about results. It was just having a good time playing with the chapter.

And it took time, and I was impatient, but I did finally get to trusting the process and some weeks later, my subconscious presented me with the answer. First to the chapter, and then that chapter became the key to the rest of the book.

I also discovered that sometimes, I wasn’t ready to write a chapter, not because of the chapter, but because of me…

I needed to grow into the chapter.

It’s happened many times that I write something that’s ahead of where I am, and then I need to do serious personal work to catch up with what I wrote, and then when I do I can finish it in a way that makes it more mature and substantial.

In general, I discovered that when I was blocked, block-busting techniques might sometimes come in handy, but mostly not. Mostly what I needed was a better relationship with writing and with the deeper processes that underlie all creative endeavors.

And I discovered that by focusing on flow first, and blocks only secondarily, that instead of solving blocks, I was actually…

Dissolving them.

And there are blocks I never had to struggle with because I never even got to know them because they never showed up because flow…

Prevented those blocks entirely.

Ideas
I’ve been to hundreds of readings by published authors, and it seems like someone in the audience, probably an aspiring writer, always asks: “Where do you get your ideas?”

When you go deeper in, you might find that getting ideas is not a problem anymore. Because when you get down to your generative source, it really is generative.

Down there you find desires and longings and urgencies that might very well give you a steady stream of ideas. And the better you get to know your generative source, the more true this will be, until one day you might find you have an abundance of ideas, maybe more than you can keep up with. An embarrassment of riches.

Fight bio
In my Asking book I recommend that you collect your fight bio stories. (You can find examples here.)

This means the stories of moments in your life when you were able to…

Feel for yourself and fight for yourself.

And what you believe in.

This is my favorite generative source for my writing. Sometimes the stories directly influence what I’m working on, but more often indirectly. Or I could say, they work in a deeper way. I don’t mention one word of the story itself, but the power of that moment in my life is infused all through a chapter I’m writing giving it a special kind of resonance.

If you decide to collect your fight stories, you’ll likely find that some of them are obvious and easy to get to.

But we live in a suppressive society where a lot of our fight remains hidden, especially in childhood. And so we need to explore our past, looking past the surface of events to see if there is fight hidden in there. Sometimes I find it helpful to get myself in a liminal state and then walk back through memories to see if I catch tendrils or glimmers or inklings of fight.

This is much like waking from a dream but you don’t let yourself become totally awake. You stay half in dream and half in consciousness as long as you can to bring the dream into your memory.

And here’s something I notice…

The older I get the more present my childhood becomes.

And the more I discover in going back into it. And the more it becomes a generative source for my writing.

I think the reason for this is simple. Over the years I’ve developed myself emotionally, psychologically, and morally, so I now have a greater ability to see into the past, and a greater ability to handle the pain that comes with seeing into that past.

Turn types into toys
If you want to learn more about yourself and what kind of person you are there are lots of options. Like typologies, which will put you in one of 2, 4, 9, or 16 boxes.

I like studying these typologies, but I don’t want to put myself in a box. So what I do is take the primal-play approach. I turn those typologies into toys and play with them to make discoveries and do self-development on my own terms.

Let’s look at three examples (out of many possibilities) of systems that purport to tell you who you are and what you need to do.

1. Enneagram
This is one of my favorites. I have a lot of fun with it. The Enneagram says that you are one of nine basic personalities, and if you type yourself accurately you can be smarter about your life decisions and your relationships.

I’m definitely a Four. But there are a bunch of elements of the Four type that I don’t see in myself. And there are elements of each of the other types that I do find in myself. So I don’t think of myself as a Four, period. Instead, I say that I have a lot of Four in me, but that’s just the jumping off point…

I never let a type make any decision for me.

I play with the types…

To provoke my own thinking about myself.

Now here’s what’s really cool. Each of the nine types has nine subtypes, for a total of 81 subtypes. (Personality Types by Riso and Hudson is a good introduction to these.)

So what you’re getting is detailed descriptions of many dimensions and incarnations of the human psyche.

How does this help with writing? I’ve seen a couple writing teachers argue that you should make each of your characters a type. Which I think is way too restricting. And where’s the room for your creativity then?

Instead, if you’re having trouble developing a character for a story you want to write. You could make her a mix of three, four, or five subtypes. Actually I mean, start from there, with those subtypes as the foundation. Then use your imagination to enhance her and complete her.

Given 81 subtypes, the combinations you can come up with are astronomical, giving you a better chance to come up with a character who’s fresh and unexpected. Which is hard to do given the hundreds of thousands of stories that have been created throughout human history, and which are being turned out now in the story factories of film and TV.

2. Tarot
Tarot is another favorite of mine. You’ve got a deck of 78 cards each representing dimensions of the human psyche. And there are myriad ways to lay out those cards in readings.

In a standard reading, you come with a question about a decision you need to make, a relationship, or your future, and the Tarot gives you answers.

But again, I don’t let any typology or system make my decisions for me. So using the primal-play approach, I do Reverse Tarot. I use the cards to provoke questions, then I work out the answers myself.

Like the Enneagram, the Tarot is a very rich system. Lots to play with.

3. Pantser vs. plotter vs. something better
This is an example of an either-or typology. You’re either…

A pantser.

Which means you write by the seat of your pants, with no planning or strategizing.

Or you’re…

A plotter.

Which means you outline first and then write according to your outline. You are guided by structure instead of spontaneity.

This is a clever distinction, but I don’t recommend it. If primal play were a person, I imagine she’d say…

Why the forced choice? Why not use the best of both? Why not make spontaneity and strategy work together in partnership? And really, why not use every writing power you can get your hands on?

When I watch videos by self-proclaimed pantsers advocating for pantsing, I often notice that they have a deep intuitive sense of structure, so are they really just pantsers?

And many of the plotters, though they start with structure, are not rigid about it. They admit to getting surprised as they write and revising their outline, sometimes in significant ways.

If the choice is you are either a pantser or a plotter, then it seems to be either way you’re only half a writer. I like integrating the two and then transcending even that integration and making my own true relationship with my writing.

I believe in using my creative powers, not just to get to the result of words on the page, but to develop a writing process that works for me. And to keep developing it.

Subtext
The books and articles I’ve read about subtext focus mostly on dialogue, especially in screenwriting. And the gist of the advice is don’t write dialogue that’s “on the nose.” Meaning where people say exactly and accurately what they mean.

The argument is that most people are only partly conscious of that they’re thinking and feeling, so when they’re in a conversation there’s a lot of indirect stuff happening. Or people are actively trying to hide what they’re really thinking from the other person, so they speak indirectly.

And there’s a lot to be said for the power of indirection. But there’s more to subtext than that.

Flannery O’Connor, when asked about the theme of one of her stories, replied that the theme of the story is every single word of the story. (Check out her chapter “Writing Short Stories” in her book Mystery and Manners.)

If you’re a writer, you’re dealing with text. But then one of the things that’s so great and thrilling and wonderful about writing is…

You can use words to say more than words can say.

And that’s how I like to define subtext.

Personally, my favorite writing is when the author infuses the richness of her subconscious into her work. I love layers of meaning which match the complexity of real humans.

So a way to deepen your relationship with your writing is to deepen your relationship with your subconscious, not harnessing it, but inviting it, coaxing it, calling on it to come dance with you through your writing days.

Voice
The question of voice is one of the most elusive topics. Every time I see something about voice, a book, an article, a video, I go through it carefully. But I’ve come to believe that that trying to find a prosaic definition of voice is not really all that helpful.

So instead I recommend playing with voice. Lots of fiction writers do this. They need different voices for different characters. They need a voice for their narrator. And each story they tell night need a very different set of voices. So they play and experiment until they find what they need.

Nonfiction writers also need different voices for different projects—serious, funny, ironic, vulnerable, etc.

But lots of the advice I’ve seen is about finding your core voice…

The one voice that is more you than any other.

And this is worth discovering, too.

But I think it’s not helpful to try to invent this voice as an intellectual project. Because your core voice is you.

So what I recommend about this voice is that instead of focusing on it directly trying to control it and manage it, you focus on playing your way deeper into yourself, and let this core voice…

Emerge naturally.

Because then it will have far more power and bring more richness to your writing than any invented voice can.

Jealousy vs. contentment
What does it mean when you’re jealous of another writer? I mean really jealous.

I think it means there’s something missing from your relationship with your writing. And what I’ve noticed, at least for myself, is the more I play my way deeper into this relationship the less jealous I am.

And now in my old age flashes of jealousy are rare. Because I’ve developed the relationship with my writing that’s right for me. So I’m content. I like being the writer I am. Not that I’m not still working on improvements and playing with possibilities.

Would I like more readers like lots of other writers have? Yes. Do I want to be a different writer? No