Writer’s block

I’ve been thinking and reading a bit about writing recently. From my experience, writing can be both a satisfying and an excruciating process. We’ve all suffered from ‘writer’s block’: deadline looming, nothing is coming out. Not a minute passes without worrying sick about that f*cking piece of work that needs to be done. More time is spent worrying about writing than actually writing, wanting everything to be perfect in one shot. Paul J Silvia, in his excellent book How to write a lot: a practical guide to productive academic writing suggests that a writer’s block is ‘nothing more than the behavior of not writing’. An interesting thought.

I’ve often fallen victim to this way of thinking myself, even though I actually enjoy writing and think that my writing is not half bad at all. After thinking a little bit more, I came to this realisation: the act of writing is the visualisation of abstract ideas. Without externalising these snippets of thoughts from our brain to a medium where we can see everything in front of us (on a screen, a piece of paper, etc.), it is difficult to make sense of it. Mulling over ideas in your head instead of putting pen to paper (or fingers to keyboard) is precious writing time wasted because we’re not visualising.

Jeff Goins in his Medium post suggests that what we call ‘writing’ is not a single process but a three-part one: ideation, creation, and editing. I tend to agree, but I don’t see them as clear cut at all. I see writing itself as an ideation process where you ponder on possibilities and try out different things as you write. Editing can also kick in during this process, where you continually refine and restructure ideas, and remove irrelevant ones. Of course, when you turn a manuscript to an editor, the editing process proper kicks in.

Another thing to think about is structure, which is also about visualisation. With current writing tech this is easy to do: organise things into paragraphs, headings, even folders, tags, colours (Scrivener is an excellent app by the way for structuring writing, and for playing with structure). In a regular word processing app like Microsoft Word, (semantic) structure and visual presentation are the same: typographic attributes are used to code different things like levels of headings, etc. But apps that use Markdown let you use simple codes to semantically structure your writing without worrying about typography, and the structure is preserved when you export the text. I tend to not write in ‘focus mode’ – it is important for me to see the structure when I write (although this blog intentionally does not have any headings at all – something I will discuss later).

(I started writing this post in the Flowstate app under a five minute time limit. I was forced to get words out with no opportunities to edit at all because the app would delete everything after three seconds of inactivity. I continued writing in Byword and now only one sentence from that writing session remains. Not the kind of pressure I need and does nothing to my creative process. Writing freely has its benefits, but not when under pressure – at least for me.)

Typing in Chinese

Lisa Simpson pouring over a supposedly Chinese typewriter with a huge keyboard

I write a lot more comfortably in English than I do in Chinese, probably because I think in English most of the time, especially in my professional life, or anything theoretical. But it also has a lot to do with the tech involved in composing Chinese words. In a post from three hours ago, I wrote ‘congruency or fluency between thought and action’ as one of the factors when looking at how differently we write using different tech.

When I write (type) in English, my fingers work at a similar speed as my mind – the two are syncronised with each other, so my thoughts flow through smoothly and quickly. Not the same when I write by hand because I’m very slow when writing with a pen. Before I could capture my thoughts as marks on paper, my ideas would slip away. As for Chinese, I mostly use an input method called 速成 (Pinyin: Sucheng, Jyutping: cuk1 sing4), where each key on the qwerty keyboard is assigned a Chinese character part (which themselves are full characters), which can then be combined to form characters. It’s a simplified verison of 倉頡 (Pinyin: Cangjie, Jyutping: cong1 kit3), where you type five of these character parts to get exactly the character you need. Sucheng allows you to type the first and the last of these character parts, then choose from a list of candidate characters. Not a easy way to type, and difficult to learn. I frequently can’t find the characters I need, and have to resort to several other input methods (phonetic or handwriting). Thought and action definitely not in sync.

That still from The Simpsons always make me smile. Note the repeated characters. (from a Tweet by Kristie Lu Stout) (written in Byword, a Markdown editor)

Viewport size for writing

A few thoughts on viewport size when writing (typing):

When one composed on the Monotype or Lintotype hot metal casting machines, there was no way to preview what you have typed at all – no viewport. One could only find out after the type has been cast. In other words, writing blindly. (though composing on these machines can hardly be called ‘writing’, but it’s doable)

If you have a large viewport when composing, you can see where you are in relation to the stream of text that one has already written. One can navigate back when editing. Or the text can have some sort of semantic structure (tagged as you write) where you can navigate via an outline.

If you have a very tiny viewport that can only accomodate a few words at a time, then you can verify what you have input but still have no easy way to visualise what you have written, or navigate back. A one-character viewport would only be useful for verification.

What benefits would writing blindly be? Or there is a geographical separation between input (private) and output (public)?

(written with Markdown in Tumblr site)

Text on a meta level

Double-page spread of a booklet
Double-page spread of a booklet

Apparently the seed for this project was already planted 20 years ago. Posting something this old poses the risk of making a fool of myself, but I’ll do it anyway.

This was from one of my grad projects when studying at Emily Carr. I proposed that ‘text’ is always ‘virtual’ (non-material?), and that it is a meta (x5) medium. Apparently I also treated the accompanying website for my project an ‘electronic sketchbook/composition book’, so this is site really is nothing new.

These rather half-baked thoughts from 20 years ago are what would now be called geosemiotics, a branch of linguistics and an extension of the study of multimodality. See Discourses in place: language in the material world by Ron Scollon and Suzie Wong Scollon, where they look at interaction order, visual semiotics and place semiotics.

(to save myself from further embarassment, I won’t upload the horribly dated website)

Text as a Meta-meta-meta-meta-meta-medium

Text is a very peculiar medium. I would like to say that regardless of what medium text is appeared in – whether carved in stone, printed on paper, or transmitted in light – text is something that is always “virtual” – text does not really exist in our reality.

Text is in fact a meta-meta-meta-meta-medium. First of all, text in the most primary form exist in our brains as electrical impulses that carry intangible, invisible and abstract thoughts. The brain is the only place where text can exist in its most pure and primitive form, free from any embellishments and distractions. Unfortunately, the brain is a totally private place. Until we could transmit thoughts directly from mind to mind, we have to find ways to communicate our thoughts via external means. In order to solve this problem, humans then devised ways to code these thoughts in graphical forms – the written languages. As soon as we transcribe our thoughts onto a two-dimensional surface using a written language (making it public), a number of factors begin to come into play. First and foremost, there is the code that tells us that “this is something that can be read, in this particular way.” In order to be recognized as such, a text has to follow a pre-defined set of rules that governs the basic construction and arrangement of each letter (in the case of the Latin alphabet). Meanwhile, the idiosyncratic decisions that we make when transcribing text gives it another dimension of meaning – the typefaces or styles of writing. This is another level of coding that may or may not be decoded by the reader. Then there is the container as mentioned above – the shape, the texture, the mass, the colour etc. And finally, there is the environment (the context) that the text is in – how other elements in the environment enhance or fight with the text, and how other external factors such as lighting, temperature, the obscuring of the text affect the perception of the text.

1
Text as abstract thoughts in the mind (private)

2
Text as signs: letters (an archetypal ideal)

3
Graphical variations on the archetypal ideal: typefaces and writing styles

4
The ‘container’: shape, colour, texture, mass, etc.
The medium: book, inscription, LCD display, etc.
along with 3 establishes a ‘visual language’
creates authority, neutrality or banality

5
The context: the environment that the text is in can either enhance or obscure fundamental textual meaning
examples: lighting, relationship to other elements in the space, temporal change, temperature.

(written with Markdown in the Tumblr site)