How is the enchanting world of writing holding on without me? No, I’m kidding; I know it’s a mess. What? Can’t a girl dream? In all seriousness, I’ve taken a break from writing after experiencing the worst thing a writer (professional or not) could experience: the writer’s block. I hear you gasping over there. I thought I’d never win the fight against my archnemesis Writer’s Block (I named it Joe the Jerk but that’s an other story for an other time) until I realized I didn’t need to fight. Indeed, the more I forced myself to write, the worse it got, thus leading me into taking a break.
The first week was hard; I actually remember crying because I would probably never write again and fall in a pit of shame before turning into one of those bitter individual who used to be passionate about something.
The second week was worse because I had an epiphany: if I could not write stories or blog, wouldn’t that mean I could not write essays too? I was soon to find out as my philosophy professor thought it would be great timing to assign one of these bad boys and sure enough, I couldn’t deliver a single line. As surprising as it may sound, though, “I have writer’s block” is not an excuse not to turn in an assignment – so says Mr. Professor because I felt like it was an excuse and an explanation all in one – that’s when I had my first bad grade of the year.
The third week was known as “denial week,” I had decided writer’s block didn’t exist, that I was overreacting and I should focus on getting some writing done once and for all. Didn’t work. Second epiphany of the month of September, ladies (and gentlemen): there is such thing as the writer’s block! I know, right?
The fourth week of September I started freaking out while looking up ways to get rid of said writer’s block, oddly Internet Almighty presents it like it is some sort of disease (which it could be I guess, but if it were it would not be as bad as Internet Almighty wants you to believe) by leading me into searching for “writer’s block cure” or letting me know it is a “condition” from which the great F. Scott Fitzgerald suffered. Yes, suffered. From that moment I was picturing a life of tears and ice cream, telling random strangers in the bus why I’m not a famous journalist and how it all happened, also it would be fair to inform you that I’m quite the drama queen and hypochondriac.
The rest followed all through the very end of September and mid October, a period known as “WHY ME!?”, capitalized here for emphasis because I would literally scream “why me!?” at the most inappropriate moments – how does my family live with me is still one of those mysteries I’ve yet to unveil,but it probably has something to do with love… until I figured why I had writer’s block. I was afraid I didn’t have anything interesting to write about when the perks of being a writer is the ability we have (or are supposed to have) to take a boring event and turn it into an interesting one. Eventually I decided to turn this around and to write what happened during the day while making it appealing and more interesting than it really was. I do so every day before going to bed and I’m thinking of keeping it up for awhile because it forces me reflect on my day and find some positivity in a bundle of negativity and – bonus point – it keeps Joe the Jerk away.
By now as you can tell my writer’s block is gone and someday I will retell this anecdote with a lot more twists and turns, I’ll add some cliffhangers here and there, might throw in a couple metaphors or maybe I’ll write a book about it just for fun. How do you cope with writer’s block?