Sunday, January 25, 2015

Dear Writer's Block, Please Die

It isn't the first time I've had writer's block. But, it certainly feels just as dreadful and career-ending every time I do.

When I have it, I often imagine writer's block to be a person who bursts in through my door uninvited, much like Kramer, wearing a red cape, two horns and a triangular tipped tail.

It doesn't take long before Writer's Block settles into my house. I imagine him sitting on my couch, dirty socks resting on the coffee table, laughing obnoxiously at the TV while cramming handfuls of chips into his mouth.

Meanwhile, I'm sitting in the uncomfortable armchair across the room, staring longingly at the couch. Every so often, I clear my throat and ask him impishly to "please leave..."

"Nah," he says, then takes a swig of coke directly from the 2 liter. "I'm good."

I generally have more to say, in more powerful ways, but when he comes my words grow stale, and my opinions vanish before they've reached my mouth. My mind, once crackling with ideas and images, becomes a dead silent, pitch dark landscape.

Lucky for me, this happened after I turned in Sapphire #3 to Diversion Books. Unluckily, he struck when I had ample writing time. If there's something that bugs me, it's wasted writing time. Some people call it Obsession, I call it Purpose.

Each time this pest comes for an unannounced visit, I Google. But when stepping away, free-writing, running, and Yoga doesn't work, what are you left with? A devilish man who eats all your double stuffed Oreos, spews negativity, snores like a wildebeest, and doesn't flush after going number two, that's what.

I've never managed to exterminate him in the past. He simply just leaves when he is finished, or when my cupboards are emptied of junk food.

The silver lining? While I, myself, can't get a word out right now, I at least have the time to enjoy the works of people who can. Without the help of people like Susan Ee, Amy Sherman-Palladino, Marian Keyes, Dean Koontz, and Matthew Quick, I'd be sitting in that armchair day in and day out, feeling every second pass as I waited for Writer's Block to leave, or preferably, DIE.

Until then, excelsior.


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