This is purely subjective in content, as most opinions are, and it crawled into my mindspace this morning.
After entering the space it felt waves of past timelines filtering over and through it, around it and under it, so it stopped, listened, before speaking directly to all and sundry. And it said this…
“See? There is no such thing for you as writer’s block.”
And, do you know, I now agree.
Probably, thoroughly, for the first time in my life I agree.
I have used the excuse countless times to do something else instead.
I have worried about it when I didn’t see that the then “I” was making up excuses for his own laziness.
I have shrugged when I didn’t understand that sometimes “life” has to take over and my love has to take a backseat and just hush for a while.
Why am I bringing this up?
Well, anyone who genuinely reads my scribbles will know that I have had a less than appetising plateful to scoff from as late:
The beautiful Auntie J’s horrible, yet humble passing, keeping her lovely, elderly sister afloat, and now my Pop suffering a far too similar illness to Auntie J.
It’s not been fun -and I know that others have and are going through much worse, but this is all, literary, relative-.
I didnt only drop off WordPress, but I cut creativity full-stop.
I had to. My mind was turning in the wrong direction to pick out suitable sentences. Though I didn’t have time to worry too much about that.
Then it was that I wrote yesterday and it made the burden lighter.
That was after a few tears dropped into my soup.
And I know for a fact that Pop wouldn’t want me to stop writing, as he said from his bed the other day, bless him.
Now, you might feel I’ve veered away from the whole point, so I’ll wrap it up by saying:
I no longer believe in the concept of “writers block”.
There’s love, life and excuses. If they get in your way then writing really isn’t part of you.
That could be merely a moment in time and you may find your love once more, but don’t blame it on imaginary concepts.
You may as well blame illness on the devil.