Word play

Writer's block is a great excuse to actually have some fun with science writing.

Crayons, pens, and collage, oh my! (Image: B.G. Merkle © 2024)

I’ve been talking lately with friends who are writers. They spend a lot of their time creating meaning, sharing ideas, and generally smithing sense into strings of words on the screen. Some of those words are destined to become actual printed text on physical pages. But mostly, the words that they and I wrangle will only live here in the ether, ones and zeros transformed into back-lit symbols that convey what we think about to folks like you who read those symbols and then think about them in your own ways.

However, one of my friends spent most of their time over the past few years writing words that help people plan, help people coordinate, help people work together. This kind of writing doesn’t feel very artful, and it might not seem expressive. And now, this friend is working to return to the kind of writing that conjures up possibilities, carries readers into hope and action, makes vital connections between the planet and society.

But, the chasm between those types of writing has caused this friend to feel like they’re facing an unbridgeable gap. [1]

In essence, they are deep in a wicked case of writer’s block. And as we talked about it, drawing came up. Because I teach people to draw, I see a lot of parallels between the hang-ups people have about drawing and people's struggle to create elegant and compelling text.

We talked through some of the ways that I introduce people to drawing—all of which are aimed at forgetting competency and instead leaping into play. My friend said they’d try some of the sketching techniques I recommended.

We hung up, and I went back to the quirky collages and “ransom note poems” [2] I’ve been making since last fall. As I glued cut paper pieces that afternoon, I realized that while I care about sketching, I have too high of expectations for how my own drawings turn out. I don't find sketching a big enough leap towards letting go. Instead, the messy, sticky fun I’ve been having with collage is my current, favorite way to dodge writer’s block.

In particular, I’m taking apart text, cutting pages into strips of words, and then re-assembling them into quirky phrases and poems utterly unlike what I’d write otherwise. The writing is still mine, because I am creating it and conjuring up nonsensical, whimsical, and profound meanings as I put these actual words together. But, it’s mine in a way that I could not arrive at without the source material of the magazines I dismantle. I’m purposely mis-understanding, then re-understanding, the significance of these words, collecting them like I might citations, compiling and practicing with them like I might suggest to a writing student [3] or when I pursue a new research methodology. Then I’m gluing them into place, the way we do when we finalize text that has been informed by what we know, what our field knows, and what the ecosystems around us are revealing to us.

This found poetry process is a prime example of one thing I think is especially generative about reading: finding words and phrases that I love, written by others. This process of noticing and collecting others’ words helps me remember that writing is a craft, writing can be play, and above all, writing is self-expression. Right now, I’m having extra fun actually grabbing those words, cutting them out of magazines and old books, and using the harvest of my fluttering scraps to concoct new phrases I like even more.

This approach leads me to play with words in ways I don't find myself willing to or practiced at when I am stuck in the whirlpool of arranging words I pulled raw out of my mind.

Even if there is nothing new under the sun, there are still new ways of seeing and thinking about familiar tasks like writing. (Image: B.G. Merkle © 2024)

Consider the words on this collage: "The bottom line is Hello. You don't look like a cat." I'd never make those sentences on my own—much like the collaborative work I do, which couldn’t exist without the input of my research partners. Certainly I wouldn’t deliberately write them together. But, I did create them by reconfiguring words (from two different magazines and a book, plus the rest of the magazine bits I put together to illustrate the text). I'm finding mashing all this stuff together, and not having to start from scratch, really helpful and fun.

Bottom line: if you’re struggling with writer’s block—especially if your block is over academic writing—I suggest you stop fighting with words and start playing with them.

How about you?

What methods do you use to keep your relationship to words lively and meaningful?

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[1] I’m putting words to it that make sense for me; this isn’t exactly how they said it.

[2] See the found poem in the header photo, which I think of as a ransom note because all the text is cut out of magazines and then re-assembled to convey new meanings.

[3] My book with Stephen Heard—Teaching and Mentoring Writers in the Sciences—is available now for pre-order from University of Chicago Press! Use UCPNEW for 30% off copies you order for yourself, friends, and mentees!