Writer’s Block

Disclaimer: This post is from the archives, and may not represent the current views of the author. It also may not be at all interesting to read. Continue at your own peril!

I’m at a loss for words yet again today. Not much happened, and therefore there’s not much to talk about. Usually when it’s a boring day, my mind tends to wander and so, though it’s hard to talk about the day’s events, it’s easy to talk about one of the topics that flashed through my head during that day. Today, though, was mediocre. I mean, it wasn’t a boring day, because we didn’t have three classes with Mr. G like the other day’s schedule provides. We had Math, Accounting, Biology, and Phys. Ed. Today’s schedule is my favourite – I understand math, and it comes pretty naturally to me, Accounting’s a cinch, Biology is bearable, and Phys. Ed. gets the blood flowing and there’s (usually) lots of activity.

So, while it might be a more interesting day, it means I had less time to think. I mean, I could write about transcribing and translating DNA, or I could talk about the five-journal system of accounting, but that’s no fun (well, I find it fun, but not fun to talk about). Since the day was more active, it meant that I didn’t get a chance to just let my mind wander and think up crazy stuff that normally lays buried in the deep recesses of one’s mind. I think I can officially say that over the past few days, I’ve had writer’s block.

Of course, even with writer’s block, I’m still able to write. I mean, here I am writing about not being able to think of what to write. It’s a common technique that a lot of authors use to get their creative juices flowing – especially if they don’t care about what they write about. If your options are open to write about anything, it’s a wide playing field. The problem is picking one topic to discuss.

Perhaps the term writer’s block is incorrect, or at least misleading. It conjures up an image of a writer, trapped by a brick wall and unable to escape. He is unable to travel down a path of thought because of this giant wall. I guess a more accurate term would be creative inexploration. While I’m not quite sure that inexploration is a proper word, I don’t really care. The problem is not that a writer is blocked externally, or that he has nothing to write about, it’s that he hasn’t explored his creativity fully enough to find something interesting. If you think about it, there are millions of possible things to write about. But which one do you choose? It must be something that interests both you and (hopefully) your audience. Some of those millions of thoughts can be then scratched out as uninteresting. I suppose it’s more a matter of choosing what you don’t want to write about rather than what you do. Or at the very least, it’s a matter of choosing what you don’t want to write about until you think of what you do.

Writing takes skill. It takes much more skill than most people think. I don’t claim to have any skill at writing, although I’ve received compliments about it. I don’t write to please anyone really; rather I write to be able to get my thoughts out on paper – or in this case, on the screen. I find that it relaxes me, because otherwise my brain gets too full. Your brain can only hold so much information. Well, I suppose this would be a better explanation. Have you ever thought of something or found out something that you just had to tell someone? I mean, you find something that’s so totally cool that you just have to tell everyone that walks by, even if they don’t care at all. That’s what I’m like with a lot of things. I tell people something and I can see that they don’t care. So instead of bothering them with it any longer, I tell my piece of paper or my computer instead. I’m sort of writing to an imaginary person that reads this stuff. I don’t want to sound schizophrenic or anything, but if no one ever reads this, that’s completely fine. I don’t really care, because it’s the act of writing it that calms me down and helps me unload my brain after a long day.

So I suppose I had something to write about after all. It’s strange how you can write so much about the inability to write. It’s funny in an ironic sort of way. Anyways, I have to go get ready for yet another day of work, so I must be off. Toodles!

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