Sometimes my fingers itch to write so bad but there’s nothing there. I’ll have so many ideas throughout the day, but as soon as I sit down, pick up my pen, open my book, my brain goes dead. All I can think is “I have to remember to start the dishwasher tonight” or “Thumbs needs a brushing again” or even worse, “Dora Dora DORA the EXPLORER!”
That last one makes me want to put my head through my laptop.
Then set myself on fire.
Writer’s block is part of my cycle. I have days where I could write all day and I fill my journal and books with all sorts of nonsense. The blogs get published and the ideas keep coming. Then eventually the cycle dies off and I’m brain dead again. Stress has a huge role in it. If I’m really busy at work, mentally anyway, or have a specifically trying day with the kiddo or whatever it may be, the less of an ability I have to make my pen move. When I have a bad day, of course there is a ton of shit to write about, but just regular mental stress, work whatever, nothing. Static.
Those are days where I doubt myself. Where I ask if I really want to continue my feebile attempts at this book. Maybe I should just close down my domain name and let that damn shoe company have it. (Ha, nope! I’d keep this shit funded just because.) Maybe, when I’m dead and gone, my daughter, my husband, my grandkids won’t give a shit about these journals and notebooks.
Of course I won’t stop writing though, I know well enough after all of these years that writing keeps me alive. Writing keeps me sane.
So here’s to writer’s block. Cheers.