Blocked by life


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I believe, in a search of previous posts I’ve made over the years, there is more than likely several posts talking about a different approach to a writer’s block.  I had advocated the idea of changing the idea of a block to being a writer‘s vacation.  A way of our subconscious to say to our conscious mind “take a break, you need to recharge.”

I still believe this despite how this post may develop shortly, so please keep it in mind.

Anyone who read my poem in the last post is now aware that I’m going through a hard time in my personal life.  It’s not something I’m willing to explain on the internet as of yet, perhaps in a few months time.  I also know that in the grand scheme of life, my situation is not as dire as it could be.  Emotionally however, it’s still fresh like an open wound.

Knowing this, I have to say that my situation is causing a major block when it comes to writing.  Tried to write another poem to discuss it and that fizzled in the second stanza.  It simply did not want to come.  With so much going on in my head, I suppose I should not be surprised.  The hard part, however, is that as a writer, it feels completely alien to me the idea of not being able to put into words what is locked up inside of me.

Conventional wisdom says to give myself time.  Forcing the issue is borderline insane and as Edison once said, insanity is the act of doing the same thing over and over with the hope of a different outcome.  At least I think it was Edison who said it.  It’s true too in my opinion.  It feels insane to sit at my computer every day and attempt to write something only to end up with an empty screen or badly written drivel.  Neither of which is desirable in the least.

Between the two of them, however, I prefer the first because badly written crap is not acceptable by any personal definition.

The problem isn’t that I know others have suffered from similar fates, or that it’s to be expected.  On the contrary, the hard part is that it’s been years since I’ve personally befell this particular situation.  Even with my migraines I’m able to muster up some type of writing that is at least passable.  So not being able to muster up a damn sentence is both irritating and distressing to me personally.

So what do I do?  I’m not sure, and of course I’m willing to entertain any suggestions from the audience, but ultimately I think what has to be done is acknowledge that my life right now isn’t going to lend itself to creative inspiration.  I am, literally, moving from one day to the next in the hope of making it to the weekend sane, only to then dread the weekend when I have little to do except putter around the house.  The kids make it easier because they are more than happy to provide a distraction from the circular thinking going on in my head.

The thoughts that are saying, “Physically and financially, you’re doing great.  You’re in a better place than 90% of people in similar situations with a great support network at your back.”  Which is then counter manned with a demand of: “So why can’t I write?”

Around and around it goes, when it stops, I don’t know.  I do know myself however, and I’m fairly positive that it will end soon.  I can feel the stirrings of creativity in the back of my brain, if only I’d stop falling asleep once the children go to bed.

With my thoughts on what writer’s block really is, a way of our subconscious to tell us to take a break, I have to say that at this moment it feels like life has said to me.  “Stop.  Think about yourself for a moment.  You exist, you are important, just as important as the kids and just as important as the financial status of your family.”  It’s answered with a similar questions of: “So why won’t you let me write well????”

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