These fits of what some call "writer's block" have been ravaging my mind and body in bouts that are steadily growing in frequency. It seems when I have the most time on my hands, I am at my most uninspired and, though I try everything from immersing myself in the written word to paging through promising prompt books, my writing continues to run from me. The writing I do produce - in the form of half-started prompts, one or two provocative phrases, and these occasional blog posts - does not feel good enough to be called writing most of the time.
So, how can a "writer" stop her writing from playing hard to get? I don't know the answer. If I did, I would probably be working out some brilliant verse of spoken word instead of attacking my keyboard with a barrage of fingertips to create this blog post. However, I have an idea of what I can do in the meantime.
Recently, I read a book entitled Writing Creative Nonfiction (yes, a bit of a self-help book for writers. I know, it's sad) that described the writer's ability to look at the world and glean the tiniest of details from it, harvesting material to add to their own unique recipe of written work. How they can get people to read about a mug and think about containment, or to read about a rock and think about the instability of the world. We who have the audacity to call ourselves writers are supposed to see what no one else thinks is there. And we can't very well do that if the only thing we see is the empty pages of our notebooks. I intend to step away from my word documents and composition books and leather-bound journals and instead raise my eyes to the goldmine of ideas in the world around me. To start letting myself see like a writer again, even when what I see seems clichéd or outlandish. I intend to look not with the intention of searching and finding these hidden ideas, but rather stumbling upon them in the most accidental and glorious coincidence in the hopes that, when I stop trying to hunt her down or tempt her to come, my writing will instead draw close to me again out of her own free will.