Well, I haven’t been able to write for a week. Not that I can’t write, per se’, God knows, I can always put words together. This is more a matter of inspiration (or lack thereof), nothing seems to be dying to bust out. When I am in flow, I can’t stop writing. In the spirit of working it out, here’s why (a little therapy, pull up a couch, grab some popcorn, this should be car wreck interesting) :
*I’m self editing, of course, that’s the definition of writer’s block. My blog has turned into an on line confessional and that’s not what I set out to do. We are supposed to talk about creation and releasing our beast here. In researching the intersection of creativity and middle life, I have released some demons and all too often been preachy. I am not qualified to be a preacher. Usually, when I am preaching, I am preaching to myself (or asking for help).
*Improv: On stage, I’m not emoting enough, I’m not performing well, so now I’m self editing an activity that is supposed to be completely spontaneous. If I focus on performance, I barrel through my partner’s offers, if I focus on listening, I go all owl like and quiet, trying to get out of my partner’s way. My last teacher was not all that impressed with my skill.This has turned into a phobia, carrying over to everything else I do. What if I have no spontaneity?
*I made videos. Ever hear your own voice on tape? Try it on a video you made with bad lighting and no script. You’ll get quiet too.
*I’ve hurt people with some of the things I’ve written and done. That wasn’t the plan. I’m waking up at night and self editing, words are powerful, I’m not supposed to sucker punch bystanders, especially people I care a lot about. People killed by friendly fire are still dead. “I’m sorry” only works so many times; so I am reluctant to write about emotions at all. What’s left?
*Dying is easy. Comedy is hard. There are morons who take offense at everything said in jest, in the spirit of confession or in explaining my view of the difference between people. (Yes, in many ways, men are different than women). I edit out a lot of funny ideas because I don’t want to hear the nonsense from the slackjawed.
*I have flem. Allergy season in Central Florida.
*You know that movie, “A Beautiful Mind?” Yea, sometimes it gets a little crowded in here, my brain is Grand Central station at rush hour. I never planned to become the crazy uncle.
*Stretching has its downside. Trying new things often illustrates the gap between yourself and really talented, accomplished artists. At first, you are new and it is ok to not be very good at an endeavor. A few years into writing, to learning guitar, to being a performer, you begin to suspect you are a hopeless hack and start to expect things of yourself that are not realistic. (But damn, I should be able to play that solo in Amie by now.)
*My famous daily to do list has fallen to the roadside. I’m floundering a little, not sure of the next direction for the Creative Beast, not able to stick to my diet, not getting consistent workouts in, not serving others enough. Feeling like I am stuck in a bog and preferring to nap whenever given the choice.
Ok, so I’ve said to myself on everyone of these: “Is that shame, blame or justification?” There are some of each. So, resolved, I will re-read this a hundred times today and come up with some ideas to overcome this funk. Thanks for your indulgence and encouragement, I’ll get better and come back with stuff you can use.