Writer's Block As A Series of Haikus

I haven’t gotten any good writing done this week. I’ve got a novel in its first draft that’s a complete and utter mess, and I’m not sure if I can wrangle it into something decent or if I should just give up on it and move on. I’ve got half a dozen short stories I should edit, but they’re old and grey and don’t feel relevant anymore. So instead of just freaking out all morning, I wrote a series of crappy haikus to let off some steam. If I ever catch myself thinking “oh man, this writing thing is so easy,” I’m going to read these again so Present Me (which will be Past Me) can punch Future Me (which will technically be Present Me) in the face with words.

All my stories suck.
Is that my main character?
What’s the fucking point?


Cat get off my desk.
You’re blocking the computer
Stop being so cute.

They say that you should
figure out why you’re writing.
The fuck will that fix?

I used to think that
first drafts were the hardest part.
Edits can fuck off.


They say “Read” and “Write
but then what about Living?
When does that come in?


Feels like my tank’s empty
like maybe I’m out of ideas,
and words just won’t come.


I was in a flow
state, there, for maybe half a
second. It’s gone now.


I wrote a novel,
once. It was the hardest thing
I did. Fucking hard.


Then, wrote a second.
But it’s just there in a pile.
Not worth very much.

The first draft, simple.
Just mashing keys to quotas,
to feed dumpster fires.


Trying to plot it,
after the damage was done,
will bind me to bed.


It’s like walking through
molasses you can’t even
eat. Where’s the fun there?

I know I shouldn’t
complain. How many have it
worse? Take years to write?

This is not a bad
exercise. But that’s all it
is. A distraction.


I never used to
believe in writer’s block. Till
I fell to this rut.


But to even call
it a “block” belies the lie.
Levers move mountains.


But my lever feels
absent, and pebbles have weight
enough to crush me.

Now I must end this
little game. The man needs
my soul for his grindstone.

Don’t know if this helped
my creativity, or
just feels less guilty.


(Ironically, now that I need to go to work, I think I could write something half decent)