I’m the kind of person who stops her environment from soaking up every ounce of creative will out of her, especially when a personal writing deadline is up and about and looming. It’s more important to focus on the process and be blind to all the major and minor annoyances threatening to turn me into a zombie. Or a ghost floating through life and waiting for that big spark of inspiration to resurrect me from the dead and get me back on the grind. Fifty percent of the time, I’m able to breeze past the noise of my environment, block it out, and get stuff done. The other fifty percent is when I let the problems fall on my head and shoulders and back one after the other that I’m left gasping for air. Basically holding on to a super thin thread. I can’t think. I can’t write. I can’t create. My words tumble out as boring clichés, uninspiring and worthy of deletion. Delete. Delete. Delete.
I’m working on my new YA manuscript, THE PISTOL STARS, and I had awesome momentum for it last week. Getting 1500 words down every day. Then life comes in and hits the brakes, essentially ramming my ride into a brick wall. I need a whole new car to get riding again and I don’t know where to start looking. That’s why I’m writing this blog post instead of writing the next 1500 words. I’m hoping to find whatever it is that got me through last week’s writing frenzy. I won’t find it. I have to create a different machine to get my brain working again.
In the middle of all this, I’m worried about the other areas of my life that aren’t stellar. Probably suffering. Friendships: I’m losing old friends. A practically non-existent love life: apparently, I have issues connecting with people. Professional life: I’ve been admitted to grad school but have little to no desire to go and will not be going. I’ve been focusing most of my mental energy on writing because it’s the only thing that makes sense to me right now. Only thing I find real.
However, I must admit that I worry about my fixation toward writing and how it affects other areas of my life wanting attention. I feel like I’m not present. That I’m trapped in the storytelling world and see life through a storyteller’s eyes. Life is a story, but it’s still quite different from fiction. My problem doesn’t have to do with differentiating between reality and the imaginary. It’s more like seeing life through an imaginary lens. Thus, I distance myself from everyone more than I intend to probably. Or maybe I believe once I achieve some level of success I can go back and mend all those relationships I’m leaving in tatters. I don’t know. I’m still trying to figure things out.
All this being said, it’s not the end of the world. Of course not. I have food, shelter, my health, my family and so on. Compared to other people suffering out there, I’m living in a dream. But like most humans, I’m not satisfied with where I am. I want to improve and get to that ideal place in my mind. To that ideal life I dream for every day. It’s living in a place where beauty sings to me through the sounds of the ocean, waves hitting the sand…
Anyway, updating my blog with this post worked. I’ve created a wagon and found a horse willing to pull me along. Maybe tomorrow I can upgrade to a car, then a train, an airplane, oh, and maybe a rocket ship (that’s 5,000 words in one day by the way).
How about you? How do get over the BLOCK?