Writer’s Block

Rebecca JaycoxRebecca Jaycox grew up in the tiny town of Berryman, which borders the Mark Twain National Forest and the Courtois River about 70 miles south of St. Louis. The beautiful landscape fed her imagination, and she began writing stories at age 10 and never stopped. Always seeking adventure, Rebecca moved to France after she graduated college with a journalism degree to teach English at a French high school. Bitten by the travel bug, she has recently visited Italy, Greece, Austria, Spain, and finally made it to her bucket-list destination of Istanbul last summer. Rebecca now lives in New York City with her husband, Gregory. She is the curator and program director of the YA Lit Series at the 92nd Street Y—one of New York’s premier cultural centers. She enjoys reading and writing fantasy, urban fantasy, steampunk, and science fiction. The Other Inheritance is her first novel. 

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When I wrote The Other Inheritance, I had all the time in the world. Not literally, of course, but I didn’t feel any pressure to produce other than the pressure I put on myself. Then a miraculous thing happened. Rocking Horse Publishing picked up The Other Inheritance, and I was officially a published author in November 2014. It was the best feeling in the world to have an almost eight year journey pay off. That’s right; almost eight years!

As wonderful as it felt to be vindicated as a writer, The Other Inheritance does require a sequel. Like right now, which brings me to my little dilemma. I am currently in that horrible, terrible state of mind known as Writer’s Block. If you’re a writer, you know how utterly paralyzing Writer’s Block can be. You suffer from extreme guilt, bouts of depression, and general feelings of worthlessness. It’s like you are in an abusive relationship with your unfinished manuscript.

The Other InheritanceFor a little while, I thought I had found the solution. It had become impossible for me to write at my computer. I absolutely could not do it. Then I discovered if I just put pen to paper, I could write again. I finished three chapters. Eureka, I was cured! Only I wasn’t. I’m back in the same boat I was before, and I feel like I’m on a dingy in the middle of the ocean and land is no where in site.

I turned to the original Star Wars trilogy to break my slump. I just finished Jedi yesterday and still no spark. So I guess the Force has failed me. Now it’s time to buckle down and get real. I have to ignore the guilt and the paralyzing fear and just write. That’s a monumental task but now I actually have people depending on me. People who read The Other Inheritance and loved it. Just like Luke, I need to believe the impossible.