The One Problem Every Writer Faces and How to Get Over It.

TimeAsterTime
Jul 25, 2017 · 6 min read

Starting off, I know what you’re thinking: It won’t happen to you. I’m sorry to say it, but chances are it will. This problem doesn’t discriminate. No matter your age, race, sexuality, or gender, you’ll most likely experience it at some point. Think of your favorite writers, because chances are they were in your place. It may seem like a curse but at least you can be comforted knowing you’re not alone. I get what you’re going through. You’re not the first one for it to happen to and you definitely won’t be the last. Hell, I’m not too proud to say that it happened to me.

How it starts can differ, but it quickly moves from a passing thought in your mind, developing into the fully realized work in front of you. It wasn’t easy either. You wrote and wrote for months, meticulously rereading and rewriting every sentence. Every comma was purposeful, every metaphor reworked, until it was perfection.

In hindsight it’s easier to see the false starts that came before it. There were things you wrote that had a glow, but once the shine faded you could see them as they really were. You can remember dragging half-finished drafts to the trash folder. Pages of notes that you were too afraid to develop further. There were concepts you dove into with errors so glaring you don’t know how you missed them at the start. After these missteps you had your guard up. You were beginning to lose hope you could ever actually make something worth it.

But then the moment came. It’s funny, what would have been just an ordinary day changed your life forever. It’s different for everyone though. Some have had the idea with them since high school. Some have it on the train or with the help of a friend. These days more and more have it on the internet. No matter where it happened for you, it became your everything. Every chance you’d get you’d work on it. You couldn’t sleep without rolling out of bed to make notes, to change just one word. It was all you could think about and you liked it that way.

For the first time you started to entertain the thought of the future. Publishers, book signings, movie adaptations. Concepts you ran from now sounded nice. That barrier you built up was breaking and surprisingly you were okay with it. Before this you had always been protective of who you shared this part of yourself with. This was different. You showed your parents, your friends, your loved ones. You talked about it so much and so highly they were begging to see it. You’ll never forget the first time someone else read it. Their face was a mystery you were solving, trying to read their reactions. The thing is, they really loved it. Not because they loved you but because it was actually good. The high off of that feeling seemed like it would never die.

Remember that feeling for what comes next. Maybe it’s your mother, maybe it’s an old friend from college, but there will be a point where one of them will sit you down and break the news: You just wrote Shrek.

Your mind is racing, trying to figure out if they’re joking with you. They try to couch it in compliments but you can’t hear it over the ringing. You read it over again and again and suddenly little things pop up that you never noticed before. You realize that your main character is an ogre and that his best friend is an anthropomorphized donkey. Small details like that now seem so obvious in retrospect.

The weeks after send you into a depression. You still can’t sleep. Before it was from excitement, but now all you can do is look back. You overanalyze how it even came to this. So much of your life went into this and now you feel like you don’t understand. How could something make you this happy and just turn out to be Shrek?

As hard as you try, you keep returning to it. It’s all there, but not as you remembered. Now that the glasses are off it feels different. You recall Donkey say, “I’m making waffles” but it can’t make you laugh as hard as it used to. You shut yourself off from your loved ones, the very same ones who you finally felt brave enough to open up to. They try to console you, saying, “We loved it, we promise. But it was Shrek.” You know they care, but you’d rather run from the truth.

You can’t run though. Everything reminds you of Shrek. In the morning your bathroom mirror becomes the Magic Mirror, your lunch turns into the Three Pigs, your yard just reminds you of Shrek’s swamp. You don’t want to see or do anything ever again. It feels like it will never end.

The worst part of it all? It felt great. You wrote it, looked down, and for the first time you were actually proud of what you’d written. You can’t remember being happier and you’re probably right. To have that ripped out from under you. That pain never fades.

Every thing that you’ve experienced, I get. I’ve been there. You feel like there’s no place to go from here, but this is where I can help. Here’s a bit of advice on what to do, whether you’ve already written Shrek, are currently writing Shrek, or know that you will write Shrek.

  1. WRITE IT ANYWAY

You’re just kidding yourself if you truly believe that you’re not going to write Shrek. Ignoring it won’t help. You’re going to write it and it’s going to feel incredible while it lasts. Don’t cut yourself off from this experience. As bad as it feels to realize you wrote Shrek, never writing Shrek would be so much worse. You’ll come out the other side all the better for it. I promise.

2. DON’T BE ASHAMED

This may surprise you, but everyone you know has also written Shrek. There’s an outdated stigma around it, but you’re in good company. All the best writers have done it: William Shakespeare, David Foster Wallace, William Steig. The list is longer than they’d let me write on this site. Just know that whoever you look up to has written Shrek. Even more so, maybe one day you’ll be the example a young writer looks up to. The more we talk about it in society, the easier it will be for us all to accept that it’s okay. We all write Shrek and there’s nothing wrong with that.

3. YOU CAN STILL LOVE SHREK

Just because you’ve realized you wrote Shrek doesn’t mean it’s all over. Your life will never be the same, but that doesn’t have to be a bad thing. It’ll still make you laugh, and still make you cry. All those feelings you had still exist and they won’t just go away because you realized it’s Shrek. Accept it. The sooner you do, the easier it will be to move on.

4. USE WHAT YOU LEARNED

When you’re at your lowest point it’s hard to see, but a lot of good will come from making Shrek. Maybe next time you write something you’ll see the signs sooner. If you start and see that the antagonist is a short Lord who hires an ogre, you’ll know it’s Shrek from a mile away. Move on, but never forget.

5. DON’T GIVE UP

It may feel that everything you write will just be Shrek, but don’t worry. Eventually you’ll get past it. Some people only write Shrek once, while others may write it over and over again. There’s no right way to do it and it’s not helpful to compare yourself to others.

Keep in mind, you may never make anything as good as Shrek again. Most people don’t. It may seem harsh but it’s good to acknowledge. Remember, it’s not about being better than Shrek, because that’s an unreachable goal. What comes next may never reach the level of Shrek, but at least you did it. It will get better. The world can feel so jaded and it’s hard to have faith in anything, but take it from me. I’ve been through it all and trust me:

I’m a believer.

If your or anyone you know is struggling with having written Shrek, please seek help. This essay is very helpful and very informative, but in the end its just words. Please reach out to your loved ones as they’ve been through similar experiences. And if you ever need to talk through this, please message me because I will be there to help.

TimeAsterTime

I’m working on it okay?

Welcome to a place where words matter. On Medium, smart voices and original ideas take center stage - with no ads in sight. Watch
Follow all the topics you care about, and we’ll deliver the best stories for you to your homepage and inbox. Explore
Get unlimited access to the best stories on Medium — and support writers while you’re at it. Just $5/month. Upgrade