Rob Gilroy

Rob Gilroy: Writing’s Blocked

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When you’re trying to be creative, one of the hardest things is coming up with that initial idea.

Sure, sometimes ideas fly thick and fast – but how can you know it’s a good one?

How did the guy who invented the Breville toaster (Mr Breville?) know he was going to revolutionise the way we eat hot sandwiches, as opposed to being just another moron with a warm bread compressor?

It’s a fine line between genius and insanity – unless we’re talking about proper mental classifications, in which case it’s more than a fine line.

The distinction tends to be a padded cell and an over generous amount of prescribed medication – and I’m fine with that.

I’d hate to think that at any moment Mark Zuckerberg could switch and suddenly start wrecking havoc with millions of lives, although since the invention of Candy Crush, who’s to say he hasn’t?

It’s hard to know when you’re on to a winning idea.

When I was a kid, if you’d told me we’d all be eating peanut butter Kit Kats I would have slapped you, hard.

But now look at me – I’m gobbling those little blighters back with no regard for my weight, or server nut allergy.

But there is something more difficult than coming up with a good idea – putting that idea down on paper.

This is certainly something I’m struggling with at the moment.

It’s fair to say – and I don’t want t go all Mr Braggy Pants on you – that I’m inundated with new ideas for things I want to try; scripts, sketches, characters, songs, new versions of Kit Kats. It’s a great feeling.

Every one of those ideas, I’m excited about and eager to start. The problem is; I can’t seem to do it.

I’ve heard that writers can get this ‘block’ thing, but I chose to think it’s a myth like yetis, erectile dysfunction and a 90 minute cut of a Judd Apatow film.

However something is stopping me from putting all these ideas down on paper. I think the thing that’s stopping me is fear.

I’ve already said (above, in case you weren’t paying attention) that it’s difficult to know whether your idea is any good or not, and I think this is what’s crippling my creativity (I sound like a right nob, don’t I?)

I know that it’s impossible for me to tell if an idea will work until I get it down on paper, but for some reason it still seems to be causing a mental block more effective than the Brazilian goal keeper*.

I know I need to shut up whinging and get something written – and I’ve been through this dilemma several times – yet whenever I come back to the drawing board/laptop, the doubts start to build again.

It’s like when runners talk about hitting the wall – I’ve hit the writing wall and the thing that annoys me most is it’s so easy to break through.

It’s not a brick wall, or a great wall made of china, it’s a flimsy, stud wall. The sort you sometimes find in poorly made extensions and static caravans.

I can push through that wall easily; I just need to write something. It doesn’t have to be good; it just has to be written.

So here’s the thing – I need to stop over-thinking it.

It’s good to ponder ideas before getting them down, it gives you chance to iron out some possible faults, but at some point you need to give in to the fact that, for a while at least, it will be shit.

This is all stuff you’re taught about in writing classes and on numerous Twitter accounts for dead authors, and yet it’s one of the hardest rules to learn.

When I was younger it was easy; if I had an idea that afternoon, by the evening I’d have written at least half of it.

Now I’m older and my time is somewhat more precious, I tend to over think every little pun or joke until persevering with it seems pointless. I’m too scared to spend time on something that might be rubbish.

So I am making a pledge – from this moment on I will stop fretting about things and get them written.

If they’re brilliant – great, if they’re rubbish then I’ll keep rewriting them until they’re brilliant.

All of these ideas I’m so passionate about won’t happen if I don’t sort myself out and write them down – if the opportunity passes me buy, it’ll be my own bloody fault.

I can do this. I will not be somebody who has never tried, I’ll be Mr Brevilleberg.

*I was told I had to start putting sporting references in, to appeal to that demographic. I don’t know why, I don’t even like cricket.