When You Can’t Write

When you can’t write

It feels unreal. It feels unnatural. Because this is your thing. Writing, and creating, and expressing, and unraveling in the name of art, and carefully reasoning with your emotions for the sake of your sanity is your thing. But you can’t do it right now, it’s not working right now, and you feel broken. It feels like your favorite chore, you want to do it, but you don’t want to do it. It feels like an unnecessary task of your day, though you know you’ll feel better once you get through it, but still don’t do it anyway. It feels like that annoying out-of-order sign on top of the McFlurry machine in the McDonald on the corner of W137th and Broadway. It always seems to be there when you want that shit the most. You feel uneasy, unsettled, unproductive, and absolutely broken.

When you can’t write

You avoid all pens and papers, WordPress drafts, and all things writer related. You don’t want to be taunted by a blank canvas, and you don’t want your lack of creative spirit being highlighted. Nope, you don’t need that right now. You’ll also mute all bloggers, and avoid all newsletters and opportunities, not because of their content, but because of what they represent: your writer’s block that was clearly sent from the fallen angel himself. That bastard.

When you can’t write

It feels like you’re failing. Not failing in this world of blogging, competing, and sometimes a sure lack of authenticity, but failing yourself because the world needs your words. The world needs your bottled up emotions, and the essence of your unapologetic truth that has clearly done more than simmered. It’s wick has no length. You’re failing a truth that is only ever set free through writing out your heart’s pangs, life’s fuckshit, and the unexpected happiness that surprises you from time to time by floating at the brim of your soul, screaming, “Release me.” So essentially, you’re failing your beautiful spirit.

[Tweet “When you can’t write, remember why you started this online publication in the very first place.”]

When you can’t write

You just have to try anyway, whether it be a blog post, a creative short story, a free write, or simply a journal entry of “fuck this shit.” You have to do it anyway, because sometimes it’s the only way you’ll make it out of your rut. Sometimes, it’s just what you need to stop your inner perfectionist from running amuck in that over-active, yet very much so burned out mind of yours. Sometimes, the action of starting is simply the hardest part, and getting the wheels in motion is all that you needed. You have to try to write anyway because it’ll force you to remember why you started this online publication in the very first place. You started it for yourself. And once you remember why you began, you can return to it with rules delineated by your needs, your wants, your magic, and not the bullshit of what others are bastardizing and labeling as “blogging.”

When you can’t write

Don’t abuse yourself. Don’t beat yourself up. There’s a reason why this is happening. A reason you’ll most likely not understand until months from now, but a reason nonetheless. But it will come to you, and when it does, you’ll return to your purpose the way a boomerang circles back to its owner. Like second nature, like it’s built to.

[Tweet “When you can’t write, surrender to the down time. Know that it is okay.”]

When you can’t write

Surrender to the down time. Know that it is okay. That it will be okay. And that if you choose to return shortly, or possibly never at all, it will be okay.

Okay?

This post is part of the Twenties Unscripted “Write Your Ass Off April”
10 day writing challenge. Word of the day: Surrender.