Somedays writing is super easy. Today is not one of those days. Today is a day where even getting up to go to work was an effort, and moving my legs out from under the covers to plant my feet onto the floor was akin to dragging a load of concrete behind me. I know that I was pretty productive at work today and managed to keep level and avoid personalising criticism, but I still kind of feel like it has gone too much the other way into… numbness.
Is this what makes or break writers? I have heard of writer’s block and have experienced it when trying to get motivated the write academic papers, however have kind of just caved each time that writing for pleasure on my blogs, or working on my books, seems to be steam rolled by this emotion. Emptiness. I look for stimulation internally and externally, hoping that a story line or purpose to contribute to either of my blogs will magically surface and spur me towards the keyboard. Only to be disappointed by the void and seemingly endless chasm of absent motivation.
I am counting the words, wondering how much is enough to warrant hitting the publish button.
I have tried to make a plan of posts Okay I lied. I wish that I had the commitment to schedule posts but really struggle to even think of what to eat from moment to moment, let alone consider the future of my writing. And I am selfish. And egotistical. I believe that I can write anytime and through anything life throws at me (or in this case, nothing) and that it will be great. Glorious. Make you laugh, cry, wail, sob, shriek, splutter for more, more, more…. and in reality I am truly hiding away somewhere deep down reminiscing of the dark past and light future, and torn between the want to hide and the need to express myself. It is like two people have the reins in writing – the optimistic pleasant writer who can produce the likes of reviews and experiential reflections, and the pessimist who is clouded in the darkness of my illness and will stop writing for 6 months just to help itself believe that everything is normal (whatever that means).
Writer’s block comes in many forms from the blankness of the screen when I want to write, to the fear of returning to writing after a break and even the thought of writing causing anxiety rather than the usual excitement. It is something that I feared when reinvigorating this blog and for me, it is also tied entirely to medication. If my medications are working then I do not want to write; I cannot write; writing becomes a dark place filled with short breath, closed chest and blank slates. If my medications are not working then I can write for days, weeks and even months on end and the thought of going a day without writing is like asking my to stop breathing. It is my life line. Right now though I am scared of not being able to write something every day. It is my goal for this month to publish each day on this blog, to get into a habit and to start moving beyond the limits of medication. It is hard. It has been bloody near impossible. And yet here I am at 560-something words into a post about writer’s block, still going. Reflecting. Writing. Rabbling on!
My head feels lighter for having pushed through the block and writing about it thereby acknowledging its power and disempowerment as well as other frustrating characteristics. And at 600-odd words, I leave you with this – do want you want to today, push yourself to reach these goals even when it seems impossible. Because even the smallest moment, such as posting a blog on a day of lull and boredom and blank brain can spur you into feeling somewhat accomplished.