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| pic by me |
This simply started as an angry comment I didn’t want to share on a friend’s FB page. Everyone is entitled and has the right to their own opinions, my only comment was: Respectfully, agree to disagree.
That’s when I took the discussion and emotion to my own FB page with:
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I’m p*ssed! Out of respect to another’s page I won’t bring this to their discussion. I will state it on my own. If you can dismiss writer’s block…creativity block…as nothing, as crap, as laziness, as just a struggle at a point on whatever…then you have not (if ever) reached a block of nothingness, an abyss of emptiness where you have only a void facing you. A paralysis of solid nothing. The only working well are the tears falling because you have lost a part of yourself and all anyone can tell you is that what you are feeling is…crap, laziness, a struggle so just write. Thanks for the positive support…right, like I really meant to say positive.
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Emotionally? A bit, don’t you think.
I won’t copy the comments others left…positive feedback and shares…those are private behind the FB friendship ring. However, if you are already a FB-friend of mine, you’re free to read.
I believe…and yes, I’m using the statement a teacher once upon a time would deduct marks for because, of course, I believe what I’m about the type so why say it…there is a fine line between a Creative Block and a Creative Struggle. Writer’s Block the more common name; however, it is something any creative person can have no matter their medium.
Block or blockage is something that causes nothing to flow, to move forward, it stops _____ cold. Starting something new, rewriting something, just write is not going to work. Trust me, I’ve tried.
I’m not lazy. I’m not giving up. It’s not fear.
And it is under no certain circumstances…crap.
Those descriptions…except for crap…I leave for Creative Struggle. The ideas are there, the words are there, but you don’t know where to take them. They’re not making sense. Your internal critic is being a witch. You just don’t want to continue cause now it’s more work than fun. You’ve reached an impasse…no progress, a deadlock, something that needs thinking and negotiating in order to move forward.
A block. My friends that is so different.
I am a visualization person. My fear is a little monster living in a cartoon doghouse on a patch of green grass that is surrounded by a chain link fence. There is a gate door, but it’s locked. This little monster has a massive collar linked to a heavy chain which is attached to a solid pole in the ground. On a good day, little monster is fast asleep in its cartoon doghouse. Not quite a good day, it’s patrolling its grounds. On a really bad day…the little bugger has grown in size and has destroyed its chain, picked the gate lock and is running wild.
This is how I see my block…when it has happened.
I’m standing on an inch wide ledge. In front of me is a bottomless void of nothingness. Behind me is an impregnable wall and no matter how I try and shift into a more comfortable position this wall keeps pressing on my back.
Sometimes the wall is see-through. On that other side I can see what I’ve done in the past. What others are doing that I desperately want to be doing to; however, there is nothing inside me.
I mean NOTHING!
A complete and solid blank of not one idea. A forgotfullness of everything I ever did before…and yes, I meant to type forgotfullness. NOTHING. NADA. ZIP. I might as well be doing brain surgery as trying to be my creative self for as much as I know how to do surgery.
“Just Write” says a perky voice. Ahh, duh, yeah pages upon pages of…I want to write; I want to write; I want to write. Nope, that’s all that’s written.
“Stop being lazy” says the annoyed voice. Ahh, well, you see, I’m not, I’m sitting right here willing to work, ready to write. The pen’s full of ink. The computer’s all primed and ready. The brain is a dried up husk of non-existence.
“Turn off your internal critic, don’t need perfection” says another helping voice. Sorry, but that internal pain in the butt is crying in a corner with me…no creating, nothing to criticize, critic ceases to exist.
“Oh you’re just hitting a dry spell…you’re a little down, a little depression…a ____” Ahh, OH HELL NO! I’m missing a vital part of who I am. How I define myself. There’s a phantom essence floating out of reach that I want back and I want it back NOW.
See, it’s right there. Teasing me. Playing memories of what I used to have. And in that time period I wouldn’t have even been able to write this posting. Because to simply put it…there was nothing there.
Don’t tell me writer’s block is crap. That it doesn’t exist. That it is this, that, and the other thing. What you’re talking about is writing struggles.
Oh, but I got over it, through it, must have cause I’m writing now. How did I do that?
I walked away from that lost self. I grieved its passing. I said my goodbyes to everything creative. Packed away my writings.
Then what?
Something worse happened and all I had was turning back to my friends…words and writing them. And I relearned how to put them…me…back together.
…inserting myself into a fictional character, where does the path take me