I can’t even begin to tell you the things that I’ve considered during this time.
It all starts off seemingly inoffensive. I’m pushed back in my chair, and I begin erasing sentence after sentence. Doubting the start, doubting that verb.
I begin to take hours if not days on one post simply because the words are not flowing out. So, I push back and I work on something else.
I jump from page to page, reading articles that are tickling my senses, inciting my opinions, but not enough to form a complete thought. At first, I know better and are not alarmed, but as days pass and I feel no desire to narrate, I begin to panic.
I went from not wanting to “force it” to not wanting to address it.
I gaze out at people, noticing the quiet conversation the two in the corner are having. I begin to mentally record their movements. I analyze the weight of each gesture.
I pay close attention to their hands and the inclinations in their bodies. Do they love each other? Am I the only one seeing this? And for a brief moment, I think I have a love story on my hands, until suddenly they turn and the moment is lost. My story breaks. The chemistry has faded and I begin to search for a better cooked version of a story than what I just spit up.
For moments at a time, I fear that I have lost it. I lost my storytelling abilities and I’m doomed to write basic, technical content for the rest of my life. Slowly, I lose conviction in being certain that I have something positive to say or perhaps something that people aren’t already bored to read. Every plot that I begin to create seems to already exist.
A lack of creativity makes me more observational, yes, but I also lack the savviness in connecting the details that make a story. This is when I begin to wonder if I have to give up my “present” practice in order to keep the creative juices flowing. Socialism or inner peace, what’ll it be?
The more confusing, unclear phases in life are similar to writer’s block, I think. People panic when they’ve lost that sense of conviction and balance in our lives too right? Unnerved that the reality is uncertainty, we squirm, jumping from conclusion to conclusion, blaming things, ourselves, and others.
But we seem to forget that every part of life is just a phase, like writer’s block . I figure it’s part of the writing process and every time I come out of it, i learn that my focus needed to be on something else, even if it was just digesting the fogginess of writer’s block itself.