BRAIN FREEZE

by Deborah Elliott-Upton

I check the thermostat and find is something less than freezing temperatures outside and we aren’t even talking about the wind chill index. Even though it is February and the groundhog promised us six more weeks of winter, I didn’t expect such a temperature shift overnight. I am wearing my husband’s hunting socks that have something in them that promises to wick away the moisture and keep the feet dry. I can promise you, nothing is sweating today, but my feet are cozy warm. It’s the only part of me that isn’t cold.

I need to write.

But, like the song says, the words won’t come. It’s as if the climate has frozen my creative juices as much as it has everything outside.

A few years ago, a group of my writer friends and I gathered once a week and went through the 12 week course, The Artist’s Way by Julia Cameron. I recommend this program to any creative being, which includes all of us (we all have talents — perhaps yours is being creative with budgets, sales promotions or as a writer or artist.)

Cameron requires writing what she calls Morning Pages. These are written in longhand daily throughout the course, but Cameron hopes it will become a lifelong habit. Morning Pages are three pages of “strictly stream-of-consciousness” writing. No one but the author is allowed to read these Morning Pages, so the premise is to be truthful. In the beginning, my Morning Pages tended to release mostly negative thoughts. They spilled out onto the paper like beet juice in a punch bowl mixture. I didn’t like what was being written, but I had no one to blame but myself. These words were not like a diary entry, so I wasn’t sure where they were coming from, but they needed to be released. The words in this exercise may have begun innocent and mundane, but soon I found a freedom to allow the disappointments and fears to collect like clotted blood on these pages. It was ugly and messy, but needed to be addressed in order to get to the healing process. Three weeks into the program, I found the negatives had been replaced by more positive writing. Filtered from my subconscious, the end of the negativity left a feeling of freedom that overwhelmed me. While the Morning Pages aren’t meant to be shared, the weekly meetings were a time to share. I seemed to be the only one who felt a need to say anything about releasing my negative feelings. Either no one else had the same reaction or they were keeping it to themselves. Either way, it freed up my creativity.

For me, the main problem with Cameron’s Morning Pages was the need to write longhand and first thing in the morning and without coffee. I think she allowed a bathroom trip, but other than that, it’s just you and the empty three pages to fill before your brain started to work.

I haven’t done Morning Pages for quite a while, but decided today to give it another try.

My fingers froze around my favorite pen and I began to scrawl — without coffee I can’t be absolutely sure it is even legible. I found my mind drifted to the weather and I write about that, then to the primary results and why I haven’t cleaned out my closet like I said I would right after the holidays.

Joel Saltzman suggests pretty much the same thing in “If You Can Talk, You Can Write,” except his “pages” can be done at any time and at the computer. He doesn’t mention the dreaded No Coffee Rule or specify length requirements. Both writers say to just start writing and keep on going, even if all you’re writing is: “I don’t know what to write” over and over again.

Each time I have done this writing exercise, I’ve had positive results with finding story ideas. With this in mind, I dig out notebook paper I didn’t know I possessed — the kind used in schools across the world — with blue lines neatly dividing the page for those who have difficulty staying within perimeters.
I decided to strive for the three full pages just to make sure I give this a chance. Like a safety net beneath a trapeze artist, the lines are comforting. I won’t dare write a single line more than necessary.

I need to write my column today, but I can’t think of anything to say because my brain is absolutely not cooperating and I need to order those plants for spring and what about taking in the cleaning, and hey, what if someone tried to kill someone at the cleaners? What sort of chemicals are in there anyway?

These ideas I find may not pan out to be a winner, but the exercise is a surefire way to rock a case of Writer’s Block clear off its perch. I keep at it, my words smearing across line after line and filling the first two pages. When an idea for a short mystery blossoms on the page, something almost magical happens. My mood has lifted and I could swear the sun is streaming through the windows and warming the paper beneath my fingers. I race to get the words on the pages so I can quit this assignment and start writing the short story. I’m not quite sure this is the result Cameron expected. I want to be done and onto the mystery writing.

I put away the notebook with the three — count them three — full pages. I stop long enough to pour a cup of coffee and switch on the computer. The familiar hum is already making me happier. I find myself humming, too. Every day is one day closer to spring.

“It’s a funny thing about life; if you refuse to accept anything but the best, you very often get it.” — Somerset Maugham