Clearing a path…

Joshilyn, who is one of my very favourite writers and bloggers in the Whole. Wide. World. says there’s no such thing as writer’s block. It’s a sentiment I’ve heard before, from many other writers. Mostly writers with at least one book on the shelves and something else under contract, but not always. However, there’s a common theme – even when the writers I perceive as successful confess to having trouble putting words on the page, they still go to great lengths to say, NO SUCH THING AS WRITERS’ BLOCK.

When the words are flowing effortlessly, I tend to agree with them. I don’t disagree with them until I find myself staring at the blank page, each word written as painful to extract from my muddled mind as a stubborn splinter from my finger. When I can’t make the translation from thought to word to sentence, I shake my head and say, “They know not of what they speak. There is SO such a thing.”

But the truth is, there’s not. The writers, like Joshilyn, are right. What they have, and I haven’t had, for a while, is the wilingness to acknowledge the real heart of the problem: I cannot blame my trouble – in writing, or in life – on something I can’t control.

So, without a work in progress, without a contract, without anything more than a few measly blog entries in a few days, I’m going to say it out loud: There’s no such thing as writers’ block.

There is, however, such a thing as blocks we create for ourselves, for reasons we do and do not understand. Let’s call it WRITER BLOCK.

I am the writer.

I am also the block.

There’s nothing standing between me and the blank page but me. Me, of course, being a collection of thoughts, feelings, fears, interpretations and ideas that have somehow gotten themselves so twisted into one knotted mass of UGH that it’s no bloody wonder I feel like I couldn’t write a word to save my life. Plus, I am, by nature, lazy.

No, really.

This isn’t the place to share the UGH, not all of it anyway. But it might could be the place where I work through the process of untwisting it, bit by bit, knot by knot. Unraveling it is hard work. Reading the unraveled bits may be harder still, so I apologize in advance for the eventual ennui. If you stick with me, I appreciate it. If you move on without finishing reading here to Joshilyn, or any of the other wonderful women over there in the sidebar, I understand. But it must be done.

P.S. It occurs to me, after reading yet another novel where someone notices the rhododendrons in the front yard, that I have absolutely no freakin’ clue as to what a rhododendron looks like. Must Google later. I’m probably growing them and don’t even know it.

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One Response to “Clearing a path…”

  1. theresthisbench Says:

    According to ASPCA, it’s toxic.

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