Author KC Klein has a confession to make

K.C. Klein, author of the new Hustlin' Texas, boldly goes where few authors will go: She admits to writer's block. Here, she works out some issues …

KC: I've lost my way. I'm in the middle of the ocean, no land in sight, with only God to keep me company. I'm drowning in a sea of words that has no thread, no continuity, and with only one thing in common — me, the author who wrote them.

I know I'm not the first writer to suffer the "blank page" syndrome, or worse yet the "never-ending novel" syndrome, but somehow I always believe mine is the worst. There's been a lot written about writer's block. Some believe it's a real condition, others that it's as fanciful as the Easter bunny or a certain boogie man who lives under struggling authors' beds.

It's hard to admit, on the week of my newest release, that I am struggling with writer's block. After four novels and two novellas, I should have this figured out by now. I want to clarify. I am not saying I'm not writing. I really am. I strongly believe in the adage "butt-in-chair-hands-on-keyboard." I have words on the page to prove it — over 90k, to be exact. On my latest book, I've written two beginnings, one middle, and tons of backstory. I still have no idea how it ends.

When I whine to my non-writer friends, they simply don't get it. They usually give me a pathetic look, which isn't far from their regular look, since they think only the insane and slightly neurotic would spend their days alone encouraging the people in their head to talk. If they are really good friends, they might pat me on the hand, ask if they can help, and then assure me that I'll find my way.

I always nod. I always agree, and then I go on with our phone conversation or lunch date as if my life's foundation wasn't formed on a sandy beach with a tropical storm heading my way.

But other writers, they get it. They understand only too well. So well, that I can see the panic that flitters across their face — Please God, don't let me catch what she's got — like this writer's block is a type of Mono purposely mutated for authors. Hell, maybe it is?

I've been reading Virginia Woolf's A Writer's Diary in a desperate attempt to find a compass or to give my misery some company — possibly both. Even over a century later, I found her words struck a chord. She was highly critical of her work, as many artists are, and confided the week before her latest novel was released how she was sure she'd be met with utter failure. And yet, she pens these words in her diary: "The central fact remains stable, which is the fact of my own pleasure in the art."

Maybe in that one sentence Mrs. Woolf unlocked a small secret. Maybe one of the secrets of writing (and I do believe there are many) is writing for the soul pleasure, the soul audience, of one — yourself.

I remember writing my first book and the sense of freedom I had. No one was waiting for my next book. No one cared. I had all the autonomy and time to make all the mistakes I needed to. I could write what I wanted to read.

It's hard to let go of the anxieties that pop up. Can I write another book? Will I disappoint the readers? Do I have anything left to say?

Not to say I don't have any hope. I think all long-term authors are optimists. If they weren't, there'd be no point in showing up to the blank page day after day. Recently, I've had flashes of the black moment. I found what the heroine was hiding. I know why the hero will care. All good things, and as an optimist myself, I'm a firm believer no writing is ever wasted. To quote Dani Shapiro in her book Still Writing: The Pleasures and Perils of a Creative Life, "There is no difference between practice and art. The practice is the art."

Thank you, Joyce, so much for having me. I love being on blogs that support romance authors. Happy reading.

To find out more about KC and her books, visit kckleinbooks.com.