Writer's Block
Have you ever felt like you've written it all? Or maybe you feel like there's no use, that no one reads or cares about what you write. However, maybe there's just too much to write. Then again, maybe you're too afraid to write what you're really thinking. If you're me, then tonight you've got all of these happening at one time. Now that's what I call writer's block!
You sit there and stare at the screen, just waiting for some divine revelation. Nothing's coming. You listen to you're favorite songs, talk to you're favorite people (some of which don't talk back), and watch you're favorite tv show. Still nothing, and it doesn't look like anything is on its way.
Then time just slips by. You find that you've sat there for an hour, or two, maybe three, and this is what you've typed on the page: I like cheese. Well good for you. Apparently you have a fondness for dairy, but what does that have to do with anything. Nothing. A big fat nothing. Just like your writing.
Then all of a sudden it just hits you, and you start writing. Stuff keeps coming, just out of nowhere. It may or may not mean anything, but you don't care. You're able to write again! So what does it matter if you're rambling. So what that there is no profound statements or life changing dialogue. The point is you're writing again. The smart stuff can be written tomorrow. For now, anything will do.
So there's my anything. No profound statements. No life changing observations. No ranting on about my sorry romantic self (don't worry it's coming). No raving about how great and wonderful I am (I'll let other people take care of that). Just writing, plain and simple, and pointless.
Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to sleep on my pillow I've stuffed with all the feathers from my wings that I've lost. But what is this? Are there new feathers coming in? It's still a little early to tell. Please be gentle with me, my wings are still tender.
May God keep you (and of course me) this and every night!
The pages are still blank, but there is a miraculous feeling of the words being there, written in invisible ink and clamoring to become visible.
~Vladimir Nabakov
You sit there and stare at the screen, just waiting for some divine revelation. Nothing's coming. You listen to you're favorite songs, talk to you're favorite people (some of which don't talk back), and watch you're favorite tv show. Still nothing, and it doesn't look like anything is on its way.
Then time just slips by. You find that you've sat there for an hour, or two, maybe three, and this is what you've typed on the page: I like cheese. Well good for you. Apparently you have a fondness for dairy, but what does that have to do with anything. Nothing. A big fat nothing. Just like your writing.
Then all of a sudden it just hits you, and you start writing. Stuff keeps coming, just out of nowhere. It may or may not mean anything, but you don't care. You're able to write again! So what does it matter if you're rambling. So what that there is no profound statements or life changing dialogue. The point is you're writing again. The smart stuff can be written tomorrow. For now, anything will do.
So there's my anything. No profound statements. No life changing observations. No ranting on about my sorry romantic self (don't worry it's coming). No raving about how great and wonderful I am (I'll let other people take care of that). Just writing, plain and simple, and pointless.
Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to sleep on my pillow I've stuffed with all the feathers from my wings that I've lost. But what is this? Are there new feathers coming in? It's still a little early to tell. Please be gentle with me, my wings are still tender.
May God keep you (and of course me) this and every night!
The pages are still blank, but there is a miraculous feeling of the words being there, written in invisible ink and clamoring to become visible.
~Vladimir Nabakov
posted by Jeffrey Lazenby | 11:33 PM
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