I have been a little quiet on the blog front lately, at least in terms of publishing pieces. If one were to look at my post archives they would find a different story, one with unfinished thoughts and cast away words. That can only mean one thing – writers’ block.
Professionaly I may not be a writer, at least not yet, but in my heart it is my occupation, ny life and my love. There is no better feeling for me than watching the images which swim around my head work their way into into a beautifully formed piece in front of my eyes. Everything I write is just perfect to me and whether or not I have one million readers is not as issue. Above all other things, I write for me. It is an outlet, a way of distressing and often a way of keeping the brain ticking.
Every idea I have had in the last weeks fizzled out. I fought, pleaded, begged, gave the silent treatment, but nothing worked. Instead, my blog just lay static. I read news articles, books, comics, the back of the shampoo bottle, but no inspiration came. My blog was lonely and it was affecting my state of mind. Soon, my emails began to suffer. Even everyday conversations seemed like hard work. Just as I was beginning to give up on my literary genius, a great idea, perhaps my best, sprung to mind…………
I wrote about my writers’ block.