Adventures of the Non-Writing Writer

I feel rotten.

Not physically. So far, I think I’ve kept the cold bug at bay (I hate its stinkin’ guts). But as a writer, I’m sprawled out and seeping deeper into a pile of steaming scat. Flies are buzzing around my face, tickling my nose with their legs as they crawl across my skin.

Why such a distasteful image?

Because I can’t answer the question: When was the last time I’ve written?

I’ve been editing a friend’s book, reading a novel or two, and watching TV shows and movies with my family. All good things! Even great things! But the horrible reality is that I, Ashton the Writer, have not written in so long that I can’t remember what I last wrote, when it was, and how I felt about it.

And I mean creative novel writing, the kind that I want to master so that I can put my name and work out there. All writing is important to the writer, but I’ll never claim to be a novelist if I DON’T WRITE THE NOVEL!

I have people who support and encourage me. I have people anxiously awaiting (or so they say) for my next book. But that doesn’t seem to be enough to get my fingers working.

Here are the conversations I have with myself as I, the writer, am not currently writing:

Me: Do I even like writing anymore?

Me: Of course I do!

Me: Then why don’t I do it?

Me: I feel like I have no original/wonderful ideas.

Me: My writing’s too simple and basic. Oh, I’m so boring.

Me: What am I, if I’m not a writer?

Me: What do I enjoy, if it’s not writing?

Me: But I want to want to write…

Me: *gross sobbing*

 

But truth be told, I sometimes fall into these slumps, and somehow I drag myself out of the crap pile, breaking a few nails along the way, but surviving nonetheless. I don’t drown in scat.

Yeah, it stinks. But hey, I’m standing! Which is an improvement. Eventually I’ll stomp my way out of that pile and find a shower somewhere, and I’ll be able to look back on that uncomfortable event in my life and say, “That sucked. Let’s try to keep that from happening again.”

So for now, yes, it’s me over here, buried in crap. Writer’s block is horrible. But it’s a part of the process that I’m forever going to be applying in my life because writing’s my core, and I don’t want to lose it.

And because I’m determined not to, I won’t.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s