Writer's Block

[ had to post this - original article at http://dilbertblog.typepad.com/the_dilbert_blog/2005/11/writers_block.html ]

Writer's Block
By Scott_Adams on General Nonsense
One of the most common questions I get is “Do you ever get writer’s block?”
The thing I love about that question is that it reveals a wonderful optimism in the person who is asking. I suspect that the people who ask this question believe they possess deep wells of creativity and talent that are inexplicably blocked. All they need is the secret unblocking spell from a cartoonist and then a geyser of bestselling books will spray forth.
I wish I had that kind of attitude. I imagine myself asking an NBA player how he deals with Jumper’s Block, under the theory that if I can learn how to unblock my jumping skills, I will no longer need a car. I’ll just jump wherever I want to go, like the Hulk, but less angry.
Unfortunately I’m too literal to answer the writer’s block question in some useful way. I can’t get past the common sense that I always have writer’s block up until the moment I have an idea. It’s sort of a binary situation.
The better question would be how I get past writer’s block. The quick answer – and maybe the only legitimate one – is that I’m just wired that way. There’s a fine line between creative and goofy, and believe me, you wouldn’t want to spend time in my head. Let me give you some real time examples, except not real time. I’m on a plane as I write this. Allow me to write down my thoughts as they happen, just so you get a sense of it. I haven’t planned this:
I wonder if you could make gigantic noise-cancellation headphones to put on the outside of the plane so all the passengers don’t need them on the inside?
Damn, this was a stupid idea to write down my thoughts. Now I don’t have any, except for my thoughts about not having any thoughts. Oh, God, I’m stuck in some sort of loop.
Wait, now I have a thought about the drunken lady’s glass of wine on the seat divider next to me. It’s rocking wildly from the turbulence. It’s going to land on my keyboard. Oh, God, I know it is. Uh-oh, I think she looked over here and read that I called her a drunken lady. My hands hurt from typing. I have to pee again but the seatbelt sign is on. If she dozes off, I might have to top off her chardonnay.
Okay, that’s enough of that. Just be glad you’re not me.