Tuesday, March 17, 2015

The Silent Treatment

Writers' block feels like a dozen or more pens and pencils are poking through my skull in all directions but never breaking skin.

I know I'm not supposed use writers' block as an excuse not to write, but I can't seem to get a single satisfactory idea out of my head. I've got piles of blurbs. I've got a couple of finished draft manuscripts that need editing and aren't drawing my attention.

The block might as well be a literal piece of wood or concrete to beat my head against. The silent treatment, a form of subtle torment not unlike Chinese water torture. My muse seems to be an expert. I know the things that have been said about not waiting for inspiration to come, and that I'm supposed to go out and get it. I have tried to plot and jot. I've only managed to clot the blood flow from the figurative beatings.

I feel a little like I'm doing everything wrong. The whole thing is starting to feel a bit surreal. Maybe my muse is starving, but lately, when I should be getting encouragement from my all time favorite and incredible authors, I'm feeling discouraged instead. I certainly get lost in their stories and enjoy my time reading (I've read some truly fantastic books lately), but there's that left over feeling of why can't I write like that? Why am I not going out and grabbing research by the horns and writing something so awesome? What is wrong with me? That's a rhetorical question.

So, I am lurking about, waiting for that spark to jostle my muse out of the brooding silent treatment. I know, not supposed to wait for the spark either. Go out and find it.

Where? (Another rhetorical question...)

Is it too much to ask for an explosion? A really pretty one?

As I write this out, it has become a therapeutic exercise. You've all been partial to my writer's struggle and I thank you for your wandering eyes and patience!

Happy St. Patrick's Day

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