The Block

Lately, I have been frustrated because I am totally blocked. I’m not writing and it’s not out of laziness, being too busy or due to a lack of trying. I know why I’m blocked, but that isn’t helping. It’s like in 2009 when I was blocked because I had several strokes and grand mal seizures, which resulted in severe head trauma and neurological impairment (it took months to heal/come back from that but I did). I know what’s up but I am not in a position to actually fix it myself, and as long as I remain a human being and not a sociopath there is no way for me to “not let this affect me”.

What’s worse is that it’s a cycle that feeds itself. Like I might be juggling A, B and C and they together are creating my block, but not writing new pieces or submitting or working on a manuscript (which I realize, I have actually not, not done, in roughly twelve years) is making me more frustrated, more out of sync to actually create, revise, or submit.

I just want to write. I want to be creating new pieces. I want to be inspired. I want to be working on a book because it’s not only writing but working towards something that could actually allow me to do this full time while financially supporting myself. (It’s not like I’m looking to get rich from writing, please!) I want to be submitting. I want to be getting published. I want to work on other pieces that are close but not quite ready. I want to get out of this funk. I want to bulldoze through my block. I hate this.

I want A to get better. I want B to be righted. I want to work on C, and then all that’s left for me is to get over everything else and just suck it up and write. Work. Create. If I feel everything I am juggling gets a little less consuming, I should just go away to a cabin in the woods and be a shut-in for a week. Because I have to be alone to be in the zone and nature inspires me and if I’m away from my house, the animals, the people, the tasks, the television, the internet – perhaps I’ll write because that will be all that I’m left with.

But first thing is first, going away won’t rid myself of my block and why waste a dream retreat of my own making if I’m not in the place to make use of it? I really hope that I can see myself through this block (which is going three months strong now) and come out the other side to go back to creating. Writing fed my soul. It helps me think. It gives me clarity, and peace and an outlet. It is healing. It is a release. It is breathing. Sometimes I feel like I can’t breathe and I have no doubt it’s because I am not writing.

I am so ready to breathe again. Please, just let me breathe…


This entry was posted in Inspiration, Journal, Life, Personal, Publishing, Thoughts, Writers, Writing and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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