Overcoming Writer’s Block with Jessica Jacobs and Nickole Brown (by Nin Andrews)

Many years ago, my shy teenage son came home from high school and said he had almost spoken in class that day. “But the words got stuck right here," he said gesturing at the base of his throat. “Maybe tomorrow, they will actually come out of my mouth.”

I thought of him a lot over the last year when I developed a serious writer’s block. I had ideas, the desire to write, even the urgency, but the words would not come. I kept thinking, Maybe tomorrow I will be able to write again. But there was a little space in my office where ideas fluttered around like uncaged birds and never landed. Even when I did put something down on paper, there was a distance between what I meant and what I said. I thought of William Stafford’s advice to lower your standards in order to keep writing. But how low? 

And how does one deal with the feeling that the muse is simply absent? Day after day I would wake up hopeful, only to find she was still on vacation. Maybe she moved to another town, or a beach resort—she knows how much I hate those brightly lit vacation spots with tourists and palm trees and so much sun, my skin fries, and my soul, too. But it’s not just she who left me. My dreams were missing, too. Even my daydreams. It was as if my mind were a blank page, or maybe a whole book of blank pages. I blamed my writer’s block on the news, the weather the pandemic, a family crisis, loneliness, old age, even my pajamas.

Yes, my pajamas. Because my entire wardrobe for the last year could pass for pajamas. There’s no reason to worry about appearances during a pandemic, of course. But every poem I wrote (if I could call it a poem) seemed to be wearing pajamas too, or joggers with elastic waist bands—nothing I'd want to present to the world.

I have tried so many things to overcome my writer’s block. First I listened to hours of poetry podcasts by the amazing poets, Pádraig Ó Tuama  and Tracy K Smith.  Although I love the podcasts, they didn’t make me want to go to my study and compose my own work. They did make me wonder if I’d ever be able to write a poem as beautiful as the ones they featured. 

Next, I watched poetry reading after poetry reading on ZOOM. I paid attention to some of them. I love the convenience of listening to a performance in the comfort of my home. But I am not the best audience when I am too relaxed. My mind wanders. I begin to wonder, “Is this poetry reading ever going to end?” Or, “What is that thing on the wall behind the poet’s head?” Or, “I wonder what that paint color is — Farrow & Ball Blue Ground? Benjamin Moore Aegean Teal?” But there were notable exceptions—poets I wish I could listen to forever including  Major Jackson, Tim Seibles, Shara McCallum, Leona Sevick, Denise Duhamel.

Next, I signed up for a class with Natalie Goldberg, whom I have always loved. But the classes were pre-recorded, and after I listened to a few of them, I lost interest. I do like the prompts she gives. It occurred to me after watching her that I’d love shorter classes. Maybe five to fifteen minute videos. Something to appeal to my limited attention span. I would really like to have poets offer prompts and/or short teachings online. So I started a project with LitYoungstown for which I am collecting videos of poets reading a poem and offering a prompt—the series is called Lit by the Imagination, and will be posted in April on Lit Youngstown’s Facebook page. Who knows? Maybe I’ll start writing again soon.

Finally, I read Write It, Jessica Jacobs’ and Nickole Brown’s book of uniquely inspired prompts, and was so
impressed, I started taking free classes (free but you do need to pre-register for them) with the authors. What brilliant teachers and poets they are!  They call them “generative classes” because they hope to help us generate our own work. They teach and read between offering prompts, and the two are fascinating to listen to—their insights, the poems they select, the way they think about poetry and writing.  In addition, they chat easily with their audience and create a sense of community, something I have missed during the pandemic. I feel as if a little touch of heaven is offered in each class.  I’ve become a bit of a groupie. I am already looking forward to Sunday, March 28th, their next session. 

Here’s a prompt from their book, and two video prompts:

“The poet Jack Gilbert wrote, We die and are put into the earth forever, / We should insist while there is still time. If you only had one week to live, is there something you would insist on doing? Is there something that keeps you from doing that thing now?"

And so, with National Poetry Month just around the corner, I insist on returning to writing. With a little help from my poet friends, I think and hope this will happen. 

 

 

 

Comments

[Laure-Anne Bosselaar]

I also take their classes and look forward to every other Tuesday -- Nickole Brown and Jessica Jacobs do an incredible amount of research and come beautifully prepared to study poems with everyone (there were more than 80 participants one day!) After studying a poem in depth they then give a prompt which allows everyone to write down notes, or a line or two toward a poem. They always insist that there's no pressure, no expectations which makes all the sessions such a pleasure and inspiring, motivating occasions. I'm hooked.

[Denise Duhamel]

Way to go, Nin! I love this!! And I know with Jessica and Nikole as your guides you will be writing a slew of new poems!! ❤️❤️❤️

[Nin Andrews]

Thanks Denise! And yes, guides they are. So brilliant. So fun!!

And Laure-Anne, yes, exactly. And I so love your poetry and contributions to the class. It's just amazing, no two ways about it.

[omegle new]

The prompt from the book "Write It" by Jessica Jacobs and Nickole Brown seems particularly compelling, asking the reader to consider what they would insist on doing if they only had one week left to live.