Top Ten Writers’ Ailments

Pre-lock down, I was busily engaged in writing various blogs and articles for a variety of clients. At some point, nearly all of them would request that beloved staple, the Top Ten List. Because of this, I am now an expert on top ten hidden gems, top ten green spaces, top ten best family attractions and top ten best museums, all in London. Such a list is not as easy to compose as it might first appear. You have to engage your reader, draw them in and tell them things they didn’t know. Along the way, I’ve found out lots and added to the filing cabinet of knowledge in my head.

It’s been several months since I wrote a Top Ten piece. I rather miss them. “Dash it all, Ruth,” I said to myself, as I pondered what I might write this month. “How about mixing up comedy and fact in your trademark humourmation[1] style? I wonder how that would go down.”

I’m about to find out. Here, without further ado, is my non-exhaustive and strictly personal list of Top Ten Writers’ Ailments. Feel free to score yourself. I got ten, but then I suppose I would.

1.    Neck crepitus. This is a posh way of referring to Writer’s Neck. You know, when you spend so much time looking down at your laptop or notebook that the alabaster column upon which sits your head makes an odd crunching noise when you move. Some would say that if you don’t suffer from it, you’re not trying hard enough[2]. I have got galloping neck crepitus. How about you?

2.    Hand cramps. Whether you write long hand or use a laptop, your hands are extremely busy when you’re a writer. Long periods of typing or writing without cessation can lead to annoying little twitches and cramps in the hands, fingers and wrists. After a productive spell, the writer can be observed raising their head (bringing on neck crepitus), stretching out the hands, wiggling the fingers and rotating the wrists. Occasionally, they look slightly mad, particularly if they are suffering from ailment number three.

3.    Absent-mindedness. Just before I started writing this, I put a chocolate sponge in the oven. I looked at the time and reminded myself to go downstairs and take it out in twenty minutes. It was only when the smell of slightly scorched cake started drifting up the stairs that I remembered. I rest my case.[3]

4.    Plot-related insomnia. For writers of fiction, this disorder can bring on sleepless nights, eye bags, a listless demeanour and even grumpiness with one’s nearest and dearest. Wrestling with a hideous chapter which shows no signs of ever coming to an end? Fine-tuning a clever plot twist? Trying to work out who to kill? As others knit up the ravelled sleeve of care, the writer tosses and turns, gazing sleeplessly at the ceiling and running through possible scenarios in their head. In extreme cases, slumber will be abandoned altogether and the writer will head for their laptop to write it all down, interfering with their circadian rhythms and general emotional health.

5. Addiction to chocolate/cheese/biscuits/vino collapso. Some would say this is not an ailment, per se, but an actual physical need for those who live by their pens. After a hard day of making stuff up, editing, precising and spell checking, is it so very wrong to yearn for a plate of Sage Derby, Godminster and Cornish Yarg with a kicky little fig chutney? Could a beaker full of the warm South, the blushful Hippocrene, as it very much were, do one any harm? If it was good enough for Keats, it must be good enough for us. “Beaded bubbles winking at the brim” must surely be the great man telling us that it’s fine to have a Prosecco at the end of the day.         

6.    Chronomentrophobia is a disorder suffered by all writers across all genres. Technically the fear of clocks, I’m employing poetic licence to upgrade it to the fear of deadlines. One of the few things I remember from my Latin O-Level is the beginning of a poem by Catullus. Roughly translated, it kicks things off by saying, “I hate and I love. How can this be?” Mixed feelings about his significant other inspired him to pen an ode. Mixed feelings about having someone actually want what we write by a certain date both drives us on and fills us with despair. As the deadline draws ever nearer, we can feel paralysed, although without a deadline, it may well be that the piece never gets written.

7.    Obsessive notebook collecting. Seductive, alluring and beautiful, these items gaze out from shop windows, drawing in the innocent passer-by with their siren song. “Buy me and you will write like JK herself.” “Take me home and glory in the knowledge that I am The One. Go on. You know you want to.” “Purchase me and stop writing lists on the backs of envelopes.” Left untreated, this disorder can lead to the writer’s home being taken over by trip hazards. Albeit ones with crisp white pages and soft leather covers.

8.    Lethologica is the state of being unable to remember the word you want. In extreme cases, this can lead to exacerbated suffering from ailment number two as the writer consults Google.

9.    Rampant upward comparison. Freelance writer in the Christian charity sector? Everyone writes better than you. First-time novelist? Who are you kidding? Why on earth would someone buy your book when there are so many excellent writers out there? And so on and so forth. A difficult habit to kick, but we must try.

10. Over-buying books. Tottering piles of books on the, “to read” stack on the bedside table, sagging bookshelves and plastic bags stuffed with second hand paperbacks can indicate that someone is suffering from a condition which many deny even exists, that of having too many books[4]. The patient will justify each purchase, claiming that reading as many books as possible improves their style. The phrase, “But you’ve already got so many books” will be met with a blank stare. The Japanese call the practice of surrounding ourselves with books, many unread, tsundoku and believe it provides lasting benefits.

With my crunchy neck, cramped fingers, vague stare into the middle distance, dark circles under my eyes, yearning for cheese, fear of missing a deadline, pile of notebooks littering surfaces, word blindness, belief that I will never be as good as everyone else and gigantic and ever-growing collection of books, I scored a perfect ten. That makes me really happy. How about you?

Images by Pixabay

Ruth is a freelance writer. She is married with three children, runs a catering company and keeps chickens and quail. Her first novel is about to be published and she has another one on the go, writes for a number of Christian charities and has her own business writing blogs for small Suffolk businesses. She is a recovering over-achiever who is now able to do the school run in her onesie most days. She blogs at @bigwordsandmadeupstories, covering topics as diverse as King Zog of Albania, a Christingle plagued by punch-ups and tummy upsets, and the inevitable decline of elderly parents. She has abnormally narrow sinuses and a morbid fear of raw tomatoes, but has decided not to let this get in the way of a meaningful life.

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[1] A word I invented specially for this blog

[2] Harsh

[3] It was perfectly edible, since you ask

[4] I know. Have you ever heard anything so ridiculous?