Meet the Author: Frank Ewert

This week's author interview is with a fellow writer/editor. Frank talks about his experiences overcoming writer's block and how he now uses his knowledge to help others break free.

Frank Ewert is a writer, editor, and lover of fine sentences. He works under the moniker Work with Words, supporting writers as they launch their projects and carry them over the finish line. Born and raised in Vancouver (the Canadian one), he now lives with his family just outside of Nashville, Tennessee. When he’s not working, he loves coaching youth baseball, singing in community choir, and sampling new hot sauces.

You can learn more about Frank at his website and stay up-to-date by subscribing to his newsletter.

Are you working on Embrace Your Writer's Block now?

That's a little workbook I wrote. I released a free version on my website. By the time this goes live, it'll be available on Amazon. That is born out of my own experience. I wrote a book of short stories, and then I didn't write anything for about 10 years outside of emails and work proposals and a couple of academic papers, which I don't count as the same thing. That's a very different type of writing. Not a knock on them at all. The creative muscle is a different muscle than, say, the creative muscle you use when you're writing nonfiction like that.

When I was wrapping up my master's program, I dealt with severe writer's block trying to write that final project. It took me four years to write a 30-page paper, which was supposed to be 40 pages, but I got away with 30 because they were so happy I was actually finishing it. So the workbook is kind of born out of my experience and working with people.

Since I've gotten back into writing and recovered my ability to write and be creative, I've worked with a lot of people who face the same challenge. I had a client who was like, “Every time I open up my laptop, I slam it shut again,” while facing a deadline for a memoir. We worked together and helped her discover she had a lot of words, a lot of stories to tell, and she needed to take a different tack on what she was doing.

The writer's block workbook is really designed to help people wrestle with that. I'm a big fan of interactive works. My favorite classic is The Artist's Way (affiliate link*) by Julia Cameron. You can just read it, but you're not doing it the way that's best for you if you simply read it. You have to actually write and do exercises. That's what my workbook is intended to be.

It's actually not a whole lot of my writing. For every one page of stuff that I've written, there are three pages of lined paper for someone to fill in and write in response to a prompt. I think that's actually the way we get through our writer's block, is by getting messy with our words, ideally, writing by hand. That's a big part of it. That's how I designed that whole experience, is to give a short reflection and be like, “Hey, these are some things that are hard. Here are some things that I've learned. Now you go and play around with it and see what happens for you.”

The testing has been pretty fun. People really enjoy it. They get stuck at some point in it, but if they persevere through that, they find a lot of value, and they're always surprised by what they discover. They're unpacking things in themselves and learning what I learned the hard way.

When there's something that's keeping us from writing, it has nothing to do with writing. There are other things inside of us that we don't want to face. That's what I've found. I won’t say it's a universal truth, but more often than not. The workbook is a safe and fun way for them to start to tiptoe toward that and get across the line.

Tell me a little bit about the challenges of being playfully creative on command. What does that mean to you?

The best creativity happens when we can tap into that sense of play, when we're not so certain about what's going to happen. I think Austin Kleon talks about how the artist needs to have this uncertainty about what's going to happen next, and that's the whole point. This is an example I use in Embrace Your Writer's Block. You’ve got the kids who discover, “Oh, I like doing this thing, and that's really fun,” and then suddenly they get praise for it. We well-meaning adults step in like, “Wow, you have such a beautiful voice. You should take singing lessons,” Right? Or, “Wow, you're very good at acting. You should be in plays.” Suddenly, this thing that they were doing literally for play, so there's no purpose to it, they're just enjoying what they're doing, becomes something where pressure is added.

I think that's a necessary component. That's part of growing up. We're going to face those pressures. The challenge is how to get back to a point where we can recognize those pressures and then put them aside for a time. “I see you, I hear you. There's actually a lot of benefit to that. But for right now, I actually just need to find out what's messy and see what's there.”

I've got three kids. My oldest is now 14, so she's well past this stage, but my seven-year-old will still sometimes bring me things. “Hey, Dad, here's this for you.” It's like a picture of a car or something. That's really cute, right? I'll keep it, put it up on my whiteboard. But if my 14-year-old did it with the same level of quality, I'd be less impressed. She gets to a point where, just as part of maturing, she goes, “Oh, I need to up the level of what I'm doing in order for this to be worth everybody's attention.”

That little bubble bursts where you think as a kid, “Everything I write is magical and awesome, and everybody should want to read it.” There's the inner critic voice that comes in and says, “No, actually, you need to hone this.” There's value in having an inner critic say, “Hey, are you sure that that's what you want to say? Is it as good as you want it to be?”

The challenge for us creators is to figure out how to make sure that voice is allowed to speak at certain times and then asked very politely not to speak at others. The phrase I borrowed from my friend Jonathan Rogers is to befriend your inner critic, which other people have said, too. The whole idea is treating him as an ally because you can't really tell your enemies to shut up and leave you alone; they won't listen. But you can tell your friend you need some quiet time. That's how I want to approach that kind of thing when it comes to the playful side.

What are you writing now? How are you approaching creativity?

Let's call it for right now, a series of essays. Maybe one day it'll be a book, but it’s a series of essays. I'm coming back to hockey because hockey is a first love. I grew up in western Canada and playing and watching hockey, and it's very comfortable for me to write about. It’s easy to get into a sense of play. It's a very playful thing. You know, it's a sport, so we play sports.

What I'm trying to explore is this heritage that I have growing up, watching, playing, and reading about hockey. What am I taking from that? What am I passing down to my kids? My kids are not growing up in Canada. We have hockey in Nashville, but I don't think any of my kids actually know how to skate, so I'm a bad Canadian parent in that regard. There are still things that I've taken from it, lessons that are going to be passed down. I still take them to games, and we still have this. It’s a way of exploring what is this thing that we share?

It really relates to that sense of play, like I said, because it is playful, but it also feels at times frivolous. Why did I spend $300 last year to take my son to a playoff game? There certainly are better uses for that money. It feels frivolous. Is it something that's actually worth the time? That's a very real question that I'll probably explore in some way.

The same question applies to what we do as writers. I'm very cognizant, as we're recording this, we just had a hurricane that hit the eastern part of my state. Within probably a five, six-hour drive from me, there are people who have no homes, people who died, and then all sorts of horrible things have happened. Tomorrow or tonight, Hurricane Milton's going to hit. I've got a good friend in Tampa Bay.

It's a very palpable feeling. It's not just something that happens across the world, and I know it impacts people. It's like, wow. Why the hell am I writing stories? I still think it's worthwhile. I think that there's value. I'm going to be writing about hockey. It won’t be a super heavy philosophical book, but these are the questions I'm exploring in it. Is what I'm doing valuable? Does it matter, and is it worth the effort and the energy and the time that I give it?

I obviously have an answer that I hope is true, but I'm going to try and put that aside and honestly explore what's there. Is this relationship healthy? What do I come away with at the end of it? So stay tuned. It'll be exciting to find out.

How do these questions appear when you sit down to write? Do they keep you from writing? Do they inspire you to write?

I think it gets in my way. Honestly, I put a lot of pressure on myself. I'm the oldest child, a perfectionist. I have all these tropes in my life that contribute to this feeling that everything I do has to have big meaning, big purpose. Part of it is that I know intellectually, in my head, that mundane little things matter. You're an outdoors person, you'll see a flower, and that flower matters. You might be the only person that ever sees it. There could be flowers that no one ever sees, and yet they still have purpose and matter, right?

It's trying to then incorporate that in a really physical sense where it's like, I'm going to sit down and play with words, and I'm going to be okay with that and trust that actually the mattering is found. Surprise is often found in the mundane. I explore those things and find the meaning not in the big things but in the small things.

How do you find time to write?

I start off every day doing the morning pages. That's something I am really committed to because it's been a big part of my own recovery as a writer, having this time where I sit down and brain dump. What's in there? Get that out. That rarely, if ever, contributes to any project, but I find it's a really essential part of my day, partly to warm up that muscle. Also, like Cameron refers to, it is getting the clutter out of your head or decluttering your mind. The challenge is that my professional life is really tied up with writing and editing, so it can be very difficult at times to set time aside for that.

I hate that this is true in some ways, but my best and favorite writing times feel like they're stolen moments. My daughter has youth group, and so while she's at youth group, I sit in Starbucks and write at a time I would normally be at home putting the boys in bed or doing something else. I've got this stolen hour that I get to sit down and write, and there's something so freeing and delightful about that.

I do a weekly newsletter. Those don't always manifest themselves in my creative writing project, but it's that constant rhythm. I know I need to do it today, and so I will get it done today, and that's proven really helpful. That discipline has been helpful.

You run a business, you have kids, you're a person in the world. How do you deal with roadblocks in your writing practice?

That's an ongoing work in progress. I wish I could say, “This is exactly how I've mastered that, and my rhythm is awesome.” I feel like often my practice is very much learning. Okay, well, that didn't work that week. I guess we're trying something different this week.

Part of it is trying to have grace for myself and self-compassion. Life is going to happen. There are times, even seasons, in which I don't get to write very much. What am I doing then, to feed that part of myself so it doesn't die or so I don't go back to where I was before, where I was literally terrified of picking up a pen or sitting down at my word processor? Morning pages are key for that.

I try to have a good diet of stuff that feeds my soul. Sometimes it's reading, sometimes just TV shows. Sometimes there are walks, time with people. As I'm doing that, I'm then able to notice, and it's those things that I notice that are the food for what I write.

I've never been very good at picking a topic and chasing that and writing about that. It's often been more like, “That was an interesting thought. I wonder, will that work? I wonder where that will go?” That requires me to be present for the rest of my life. If I find ways to do that, then eventually, I must write. I have to put this down on paper and do something with it.

What has your publishing experience been like?

My first book was published by a small boutique publisher. I worked for them right out of college, so that helped. They knew I was writing. I wrote these stories as my thesis in college, and so they were like, “Hey, can we publish that?” Yes, that sounds awesome. I really lucked out in that regard, but it was fun to see. I was working at first in order fulfillment, and later, more in sales and then book development. I got to see the different parts of what goes into a book, like how distributors work and how printing can go wrong.

That was before print-on-demand was readily available. If they were buying a book or printing a book, they’d have at least 500 copies that they needed to move. Better if it was 2,000 because they could get a better deal on the books. And obviously, that's changed a lot now.

I'm now preparing and going through the final stages of releasing my workbook, and that's a whole new process because I'm self-publishing. How do I get the file ready? I'm going to use Ingram Spark, because I like Ingram's ability to be in more stores, as opposed to Amazon. Navigating that kind of process, securing an ISBN, making sure I've got everything there.

Then there's the fun part that I'm actually really looking forward to, starting to share with people and go, I've got this new thing. Would you like to review it? Can I speak on your podcast? That, to me, is the best part of publishing because it's the chance for engagement. Just yesterday, I had an email from a friend who's like, “You sent me this, and I've now written a book, and you were a part of that.” How cool is that? That's why we do this. That's a big part of it for me.

That's been my journey. I don't know down the road. The idea of self-publishing or hybrid publishing has a big appeal to me because I'm a businessman and entrepreneur, and the ability to maximize my return on something feels greater that way. Obviously, if the right opportunity came up with a traditional publisher, I would look at that. I wouldn't say no, but I do like the challenge of going, “I've worked hard on this thing. I've done all the things. Now I've got to move it, and what am I going to do to get that out in people's hands?” I enjoy being a part of that.

You are a writer and editor, and you've worked in publishing. How does that affect your creativity and vice versa?

That's a good question. I've only got so much capacity to be creative in a day. There's only so much energy I can actually pour out into something. There’s a stat somewhere that talks about how much work your brain can actually handle in a day. It's not this artificially created eight-hour time segment that industrialization has led us to believe. I think creative work like this is probably even a smaller portion of that because it is so draining.

On days when I'm doing heavy editing or ghostwriting, my ability to sit down for myself and do stuff is drastically changed. I might be able to jot down a few words or ideas, but I'm not going to be able to sit down and really pour out 1,000 or 2,000 words or do a close edit. I really need to be fresh for that. It impacts it in that way and encourages me to be mindful about how I schedule myself and pay attention to the things that refresh and renew me.

What is it that fills that cup back up? I know, for example, if I start the day off reading some nonfiction, my day will be different, and I will be different, as opposed to if I just jump into the tasks and start getting things done. There’s not as much fuel in the tank.

My creative side brings a sense of being able to put aside some of the strategic wisdom that's out there. I say that with respect, but also knowing it's not always what's needed. This is a biblical metaphor, but it's so pertinent. When David went to fight Goliath, they started off by putting the king's armor on him. “We'll put all this armor on, and then you can go kill this giant,” right? He's like, “Well, this is too heavy. I'm going to get rid of this. I'm going to go pick up some stones, and we'll see what happens,” and obviously, we know what happened.

I'm not saying that I'm a David going after Goliath, but I often feel like if I'm adapting other people’s best practices or strategies, they are uncomfortable. I have some creative experience that reminds me to go find my smooth stones, and it’s okay if they don't look like the right thing. I've got enough intuitive experience to know what works for me. It yields better results than when I follow the supposedly strategic wisdom.

Having that creative experience gives me the courage to do that and to pay attention to voices that aren't necessarily going, “Here's how you build a business or be a successful solopreneur.” Not that there's anything wrong with what those people have to say. I think they've got a lot of knowledge and are worth attention. But it reminds me to focus on what I know I can do and should do rather than what all the outside voices might be whispering in my ear.

If you had to give one piece of advice to another writer, what would that be?

Great question. I would probably respond with a question and say, “What do you want to write?”

I have encountered a lot of stories where writing teachers have killed people's dreams. Maybe that's sometimes necessary, I don't know. It always makes me a little angry, sometimes a lot angry. This idea that this is what you can do or should do gets in the way of what people actually want to do. That advice doesn't work for someone who's trying to figure out how to strategically become a New York Times best-selling author. But those people aren't usually writers.

There’s a scene, I think it's in one of Annie Dillard's books. The writing teacher interrupts and says, “Well, do you like sentences?” The student’s like, “What do you mean, do I like sentences? No, I want to write.” If you actually love the materials, you love what you're working with, chase that, and be honest with yourself about what that is for you. Not what you think your parents want you to say, your teacher wants you to say, your friend wants you to say, your partner wants you to say. What is that for you?

That's what I found and that requires a lot of courage because it requires you to hold a lot of stuff close to the chest. I share very little of what I'm working on when I'm in the middle of it, even with the people closest to me. I need to listen to what's in here before I can start to listen to what's out there. When we do that, we pay attention to that voice and listen to what that want is, it leads us to the places that like the gifts that we have to offer, and a lot of good fruit comes from them.

What is the best book that you've read recently?

There's a novel called Plainsong (affiliate link*) by Kent Haruf, and it was a puzzling novel for me to read at first because he doesn't use punctuation. His dialog doesn't have quotation marks. Sometimes you're like, “Okay, did they stop talking yet? Or are they still talking?”

But even the first sentence is an amazing example of how one word can introduce tension, and it's a powerful story. I love the craft on display and the way he forces you to slow down when you're reading and take your time and luxuriate in what he's doing. He's not pretentious or ornate. You get to enjoy the language side of it, and I really appreciate it.

I appreciated Frank's honesty about the challenges—and opportunities—of writer's block and building a creative life. If you've been feeling stuck, I hope you check out his workbook!

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