BLOCKED

Sometimes you don’t really know what you want to say or what you want to write about…but you do know that you want to write something. You’re sitting in front of the computer…staring at the blank page of Microsoft Word, imagining a few hundred pages of a story you’d written and being mighty proud of it…and then some noise jolts you back to reality and your castles in the air come crashing down as you forlornly look at the blank screen where not a single word was written. Some may call it writer’s block, maybe it is...but what if you feel like that a lot of time when you decide to sit down and write something? What if that’s what always happens, and it’s only occasionally that some thing causes your creative juices to burst forth and then for a half and hour or so you just can’t write FAST enough!!

Maybe it’s because you don’t have anything specific to say, I mean you may have all these beautiful and heroic stories and plots in your head, but to write them down and call them your own seems cheating to you because it’s sort of someone else’s idea and you just twisted it slightly. You read these how-to’s on writing, and they all usually say that you should write because you have something to say. Yet, what does that mean? Does what you write really need to be something that’s related to what’s happening? Can’t it be just writing? Writing because you’ve the passion to write?

Sometimes you feel like your writer friends all know what they want to write, and you’re the only one who doesn’t…you’re the only one who doesn’t have something original to write about.

Many how-to’s say that you should write about something that happened to you, etc., but what if just writing about what is going on in your life doesn’t feel so special that it should be written about? Then what are you supposed to do?

The writer struggled against the enclosing walls fearfully. Writer’s Block, the fear of it lounging in every writer there was, the block that could suddenly come upon you and enclose you, keeping your muse and creativity out of your reach in a door-less and windowless box that kept decreasing in size, quenching and killing your creativity.

As the walls started to choke the writer, depriving her of oxygen, she struggled to keep her creativity slipping from her, to keep it from fluttering out and passing through the walls, and leaving her trapped forever. The writer managed to hook her fingers through a muse just as it slipped out, and slowly brought it back towards her.

As she absorbed the single muse, she felt a bit better, and resolved to write about her experience as vividly as she could so other writers may know how to escape it; this burst of idea and creativity, ever so little bit, but it was there nevertheless, shattered the walls of the Block, and she took huge breaths of air, feeling her freedom and creativity again

I have shattered my writer’s block.