The Writer’s Playbook: When Your Journey Collapses

By Steven Harms

---

On March 3, 1985, a severe winter storm of heavy, wet snow blasted Pontiac, Michigan causing the air-pressured roof of the Pontiac Silverdome, home to the Detroit Pistons and Detroit Lions, to concave. 

A year prior to that I began my career in pro sports with the Pistons. When I awoke the morning of the 4th, I had an inkling our home game that night would be cancelled due to the storm. Understatement of the year. Upon nearing the stadium as I drove into work, the sight was incomprehensible. The roof had inverted to such a degree that it wasn’t visible from the exterior. 

I parked and made my way into the offices, proceeding to my tiny cubicle, joining my colleagues as ticket sales representatives. The first thing we all did, including my boss and the rest of the team, was to head across the hall to the Silverdome’s press box to view the scene. That space looks out over the football field and the basketball court positioned in the southeast corner.

The decision was made immediately to postpone the game. Back to our cubicles, we jumped on our phones to call every season ticket holder to inform them of the situation. Side note – there was no internet or cell phones in 1985. A few hours later, unworldly rumbles and corresponding earthquake-like shakes rolled through our offices, taking out the power in the process. We all knew what happened.

Officially, in the southwest corner of the Silverdome, the snow depressed the fabric panels low enough so that the fabric met a steel lighting catwalk positioned just below the inner lip of the roof's ring beam. The hole caused a loss of air pressure, deflating the roof. Eventually the wet snow slid down into the bowl and ruptured more roof panels, collapsing several precast risers in the upper deck, and dislodging chunks of seating areas in the process including some from the upper level that had smashed the lower-level seats upon impact. One of the collapsed panels that fell demolished the Pistons court. For all of you college football fans, Gary Danielson was practicing at midfield with a few other Lions players when the collapse began, but they made it out of there in time. Repair operations of the roof began immediately but were interrupted for over a week due to high winds. In the end, nearly all the remaining panels in the deflated roof, one hundred in all, were either ripped off their moorings or badly damaged.

As for us Pistons staff members, our story continued. We were sent home the rest of that day for obvious safety reasons. Additionally, ten home games were left in the season (including a home game that evening) as well as the high likelihood that we would be in the NBA playoffs at the end of the month. Disaster central.

In the end, we managed through. We returned to work two days later deploying generators to power high blowing heaters so at least we could function. Our phone lines were reconnected. We had to relocate season ticket holders to wherever we were going to play. It became a master class in customer service. Within a few days our president had worked out a deal with Cobo Hall and Joe Louis Arena in downtown Detroit – home of the Detroit Red Wings – to play our remaining games.

The silver lining in all of this was the experience triggered a series of business decisions that ultimately led to the Pistons building their own arena, The Palace of Auburn Hills, a few miles up the road. The Palace opened in August of 1988, corresponding with the Pistons winning NBA Championships in the first two years. The Pistons organization went on to even greater heights, establishing Palace Sports & Entertainment, acquiring the largest amphitheater in the Detroit area, and serving as entertainment managers for a few other facilities as well as starting a popular minor league hockey team, indoor soccer, and a concert venue experience like no other at the time. What the Pistons did with the Palace was groundbreaking in many ways, earning national recognition.

But here’s the thing…

If not for the collapse of the Silverdome, none of what the Pistons morphed into would have happened. The disaster was the catalyst. It birthed a rebuilt organization that achieved heights it never imagined through vision, creativity, innovation, and strategic planning and execution.  

I plucked this experience from my past to shine a light on our author journeys. The correlation between the collapse of the Silverdome and what we process as authors, in every aspect, is a study in heroic pursuit of success. 

For every writer reading this, whether you are published or hoping to be, please take yourself back to that moment you decided to become an author and the first time you took your seat at your keyboard to begin the first chapter. Ahead of you are a thousand challenges. Some are obvious, some are not. Success is the goal, but along the way the pieces you put in place to reach that goal can collapse, fully or in part. Among many, there’s the story you’re writing itself followed by editing and rewriting, and then the rewrite of the rewritten story, and then another rewrite of that rewrite, the agent search and multiple rejections followed by your agent’s pitch (if you landed an agent) resulting in numerous further rejections from publishers, if at all, attaining recognition and sales if you opt for self-publishing, book marketing efforts producing no discernible results, your publisher changing their mind, the toll it may take on your home life as you climb the author mountain, and. . . fill in the blank.

Yet, as happened to the Pontiac Silverdome and its consequence on the Detroit Pistons, the hardships of heavy, wet snow that descends on your author journey can either bury you into a collapsed state or serve as a reagent for you to course correct. Rebuild, transform, innovate, vision-cast. Tap into that glorious attribute ingrained within because the ability to turn a blank piece of paper into a story isn’t at all easy. 

We are authors. Bring on the storm.

Getting out of a Writer’s Slump

By Leslie Conner

---

All writers have found themselves in the not-so-ideal situation—feeling like they’ve fallen into an abysmal ditch or they’re at a standstill at the foot of an insurmountable mountain. This sensation is most affectionately called “Writer’s Block.” But I prefer not to use that term because it sounds too formidable, like the perfect antagonist. 

I choose to use “Writer’s Slump” because it more accurately portrays the predicament (and my horrendous posture at the keyboard). Writer’s Slump is the inevitable condition visited upon anyone who takes on the task of writing anything, whether you are schlepping away at a short story, a mystery novel, or a memoir. You’re gonna run smack dab into that wall and a groan of recognition will escape your lips. 

You’ve seen this wall before. We all have. 

And there is nothing more defeating than staring at that wall with nothing to say to it but a string of obscenities. It can be frustrating, but it doesn’t have to be immobilizing. I’m here to share a few tips that I use when the creative train in my brain derails somewhere in Albuquerque. 

1. Skip Ahead. If you are writing a scene of two characters in a diner and you’ve spent more than two paragraphs describing how the characters are holding their cups of coffee, just stop. You’ve hit the wall, and you’re trying to drive through it by boring everyone to death. There are times when I know that I need a scene with two characters having a conversation in a diner, but I’m not quite sure how it’s going to play out. In other words, I haven’t figured out the purpose. So, I meander around describing everything just to keep writing, but I end up with miles of nothing. That’s when I know I need to skip ahead to a later scene. Getting the characters into the next predicament can (a lot of times) help me to figure out what should happen before it. Writing what you do know will help you to fill in the blanks of what you don’t know yet. 

2. Work on Something Else. If there is no skipping ahead on this story, you might consider pulling out an abandoned short story or rough draft of another novel. I do this all the time. If you drag your brain through something you haven’t read in a while, it’s like rewiring the synapses. Getting yourself in a completely different world with completely different characters makes you focus on anything other than what you were struggling with in the first story. And then when you come back to that story later, you’ll see what you need to do, clear as day. Almost like it was right there in front of your face taunting you like Road Runner does to Wile E. Coyote. 

3. Go to another creative thing. Writers are creative people, and their creativity is not limited to just writing. Most authors I know enjoy many other creative hobbies. So, when you are stuck in the mire with your story, pick up the guitar or sit at the piano, get the canvas out, or take some artsy black and white photos of your cat (even if he doesn’t want you to—and he, most likely, doesn’t). I can hear you saying now, “but writing is my jam. I’m not good at anything else.” Well, that’s just not true. Everyone has talents that they don’t consider talents. You could bake the most incredible red velvet cake or whip up a mean spinach artichoke dip. Maybe you’re great at knitting socks for dogs or growing tulips. Whatever it is that you love to do—that you lose yourself in—go do that until the writing muse makes her grand entrance again. 

4. Go to the woods. If steps one through three don’t help, the most reliable way to break through a slump is to go outside. Nothing clears out the gray matter clutter better than some fresh air. Go to the nearest park and take a hike. Get lost in the trees, sit and ponder the reflections on the lake—wherever you can go that removes the sounds of civilization from your consciousness (you know those pesky things like cars, phones, televisions, and people). There is nothing better to restore your sense of calm and creativity than communing with the birds. They always have a story to tell, and if you’re lucky, you can hear it. 

A Writer’s Slump is just a dip in the road. You aren’t a bad writer or a failed creative person if you find yourself sitting in the mud puddle every once in a while. But if you are diligent about inviting your creative muse to come back to you, she will. And it probably wouldn’t hurt to have some donuts there for her, too.