Writers Block and Life

Hi to all my gentle readers and followers… as they say in the classics; life is what happens when you not looking … or; life is what creeps up on you, when you busy dealing with life.

Life has been very busy for me of late …hence my absence at times, over these past months. Which has prevented from putting all my thoughts down on paper, at times the thoughts don’t come … they remain hidden by a gray, misty murky cloud … which rolls in and stays for awhile. Like the cheesy horror movie The Fog … (not the 1980’s Carpenter classic, but the 2005 cheesy remake). I have been/felt trapped and fighting for the fog to lift, while investigating/unpacking; truth, history, love, life and reviewing the past and present, and carefully considering this uncertain future.

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Life is now presenting itself in a less murky fashion and the fog is lifting, receding; so as I stumble forward, at times 2 steps forward 1 step back, which at least allows me to pick up the pieces I might have dropped.

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So that’s my story … I have kept my journal close to my side during this time and have many varied, confusing and dark scribbles to unpack. The unpacking has begun, the pieces have been picked up (those that could be found), as I continue to slowly move forward … down the long and winding road of life. The unpacked, dark, murky, scrambled scribbles are coming together into more than a few poems and articles which should start hitting this site very soon … thank you for your patience …

winding road ahead

 

Writers/Creative Block (Partial)

The ideas are there, still flowing, my ideas journal is being topped up, writing is taking place; but I am just battling to fully translate the ideas into a completed poem – that is ripe and ready to enjoy – in my opinion. The branches are thick with fruit, they look tempting, ready to pick, but no; they are still to green, so there they must hang and just be viewed by me and not enjoyed by others. Each day I return to see if they can be picked and posted, but no, so I just have to sit and stare at them, hoping they ripen, so frustrating. At present, I am writing, but all the poems are either incomplete or unsatisfactory – just missing that something.

My usual tricks of the trade are not working:

  • Longs walk (done)
  • Inspirational playlist via headphones (done)
  • Required reading (done)
  • Teapot full and ready (done)
  • Dream Inspiration (incomplete)
  • Vent/Rant writing (Incomplete)
  • Faking it till I make it (battling there)

They say that writer’s block, is often caused by conflicted emotions, outside pressures and distractions outside the norm. Most of us who write are marginally OCD, (or maybe I should only speak for myself) when it comes to our writing and the finished product. We can see the finished product, but just battle to map the route or are confused by the multiple routes available, or as in my case; I am at point A and can see that I need to be at B or whatever! but have no clue as to where the path lies. I have a few finished poems, but am afraid to post them, afraid that they will not measure up to the readers expectations, which is really bullshit, as how can I presume to know what the reader will read or interpret. As they say one man’s trash is another man’s treasure.

My writing is at times cathartic and I write even in the deepest and darkest moments, but not today, (or yesterday or the day before that). Is it possible that to much angst, can be a bad thing?

“A great deal of poetic work has arisen from various despairs.”

Lou Andreas-Salomé, the First Woman Psychoanalyst, on Depression and Creativity in Letters to Rilke

What do you, dear gentle reader, do if you are a writer and/or artist?

© 2017 michael d emmerich