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Here’s To Writer’s Block! (And The Irony of Writing About It)

Ah, writer’s block. That impregnable lump that weighs your head and your tongue down at the first instance of expression. The feeling of complete and utter incapability that creeps all the way down to the tips of your fingers and suspends them in a hovering paralysis above the keyboard every single time.

And, hey, you’ve got the ideas; you’ve got the subjects; you’ve even got the voice circling in your head telling you exactly how to say what you want to say. But yet, you sit at your laptop, hoist your fingers up to those fateful keys and are physically unable to move. To make a single, lightweight tap against any random letter seems almost too daunting a task to pursue.

All you’re thinking is: What in THE HELL is that?

Seriously, this is an issue that I’ve been grappling with in the last couple of weeks or so. The issue of extreme writer’s block that gets in the way between my thoughts/experiences/opinions/whatever and my physical ability to actually put them down in written form. I’m not entirely sure what’s been bringing on this God awful, incredibly long, verbal dry spill but, let me tell you, it is excruciating.

Especially if you depend on writing as your bread and butter or if you write professionally. And its even worse when you actually enjoy the act of writing and are passionate about it as both a method of expression and as an art form.

At that point you feel like you could just hurl yourself off of a ten foot building just so you can hear the sound of your useless brain splattering across the pavement and to prove to yourself that you do, indeed, possess a brain at all.

Really. That’s exactly how that feels.

And, I’ve tried everything. I’ve tried distracting myself away from writing with food, music, fresh air, and all other forms of merriment. I’ve tried reshaping my day a few times in order to get myself out from under any routine, hum-drum, lethargic dark clouds I may have unintentionally wandered into. I’ve even tried eating lots of nutmeg because I’ve heard it enhances brain power.

Only three things came of these attempts: weight gain, a broken alarm clock, and a slightly backed-up colon.

Words? Not on the menu.

So I asked another writer friend of mine how she might deal with such an overwhelming bout of verbal blockage and she suggested I get over writer’s block by trying to write about writer’s block. And, yes, I realized that there would be an obvious irony in the fact that I’d be attempting to write about my inability to write but, apparently, its got a cathartic effect to it. Something to do with reverse psychology and donkeys being lured with carrots.

But, really, whatever the rationalization seems to be, I’ll take anything at this point. I am down for any form of written expression that my brain can afford to produce. Even if it’s the most ironic, self-contradicting piece of pointless babble I’ve ever committed to the (virtual) page.

Because, hell, at least it’s something.

All my love!