Before I begin, I would love to introduce you guys to an essential guest for this post, the handsome gentlemen on the banner; General Jeremy Tobias. He is a decorated soldier and will be revered as such. He is named after the two names my fiancé Patrick and I always call birds; Jeremy and Tobias. Jeremy, after the Dom Deluise crow in the Secret of NIMH and Tobias, because I like the name. I would die for General Jeremy Tobias, or at least try to be vegan in his honor, but I made chicken wings for dinner, so I’ll try another time to do that. *Wink*
Writer’s Block is a hell that we all know well, (did not mean to rhyme) and we aren’t even dead, even though we may feel that way, especially when we are trying to place the most beautiful, dope scenes from our heads, onto Microsoft Word, and it just doesn’t execute well.
Here are a few examples of when and why I succumbed to Writer’s Block:
Community College: writing was on the back burner with juggling classes and shows (I was a theater kid, shocker), and it stayed on that back burner, until it was a black coal I pocketed.
College: burnout with classes and social life, I didn’t have enough time to read outside of the readings perscribed by professors, as well as having eight classes my, two positions in sorority, and social life my senior year.
Post-college: when I entered the infamous post-grad blues, you float in a void while you wait for your career to commence, teetering between “what am I doing with my life?” or, “what have I done/did I make the right choice?” There were many days when I was asked if I was writing anything, and there would be a pit of scribbles where a story should have been every time because what could I write? When we are turned off from our outlet, what is there to work through?
A month ago, when I was stressed with side hussle, planning wedding, work, social life, everything in between, and I would just think about writing and let out an audible sigh.
It is the most frustrating aspect of any creative’s job. It makes us mad and has caused us to slip into a depression. I have gone to therapy in my block bouts, and the focal point of my sessions is about worth. Will anyone read my work? Am I good enough for someone to even glance?
The therapist told me that fear of failure, and it still resonates. I still falter. We always do, because we humans are meant to stop and look and evaluate where we are going, how we are growing, and what we can change, but I still try. “You don’t know what will happen, only what you are,” the therapist had told me, “and what do you know of yourself?”
I am a writer, I am a poet, and I am good. I am good. I am talented, and I am always getting more assertive in my craft.
Writer’s Block wants us to lose our light as it blots us out from our work. It wants us to punch the cinderblock and wilt, like a flower, or a weed, in its crevices. Whenever we grow even in the slightest, it chills us mid-sentence, has us look and question our work, and walk away.
But you know what we do? We combat their advances, like General Jeremy Tobias and write, create, be, to become who we truely are. Write, draw, paint, whatever you are interested in and chip away at the cement little by little. Work on it for ten minutes and leave it, don’t look at it, do not let criticism thoughts fester, and keep doing that for a week, a month, three months, six months, a year, until you have made a triumph that you and only you accomplished.
Thank you so much for listening/ reading or doing both, please share what your experiences was Writer’s Block was like, I would love to hear it!
War w/ Writer's Block