“There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.” – Ernest Hemingway
He’s right. There is nothing to writing. It’s about bleeding all of what you’re holding onto out onto paper. But figuring what you’re holding onto is the key.
To my dear readers,
As some of you may have noticed, I haven’t been writing much lately. Actually, I was shocked to hear that its been quite a few weeks, as a few of my darling readers have pointed out. I honestly didn’t think it has been that long. Time does fly, and this truth is actually stinging quite a bit.
I hate to admit to this, but I’ve been gagged.
I’ve been wrapped up into myself lately – into my mind actually. I’m not sure what has been going on and I’m trying to figure it out. I just haven’t been able to write. It’s not that I haven’t had anything to write about, I’ve had plenty, but for some reason I haven’t been able to put pen to paper. Writing is cathartic for me, it’s soothing. It helps me process my thoughts, especially the stuff that weighs me down, but lately I have been struggling to get even something small out to you. Nothing would transfer onto the screen, and as a result I’ve felt very heavy, very drained.
I think this is what they call writer’s block. But I really don’t know. I’ve never experienced it before.
One thing I have observed these past few weeks is that writing is hard, but for me, not writing is even harder. By not being able to write, these thoughts get really crammed into this brain of mine with nowhere to go, and they get squashed. There begins to not be enough room to hold all of these thoughts in and so I then get overwhelmed and more drained and tired. And because I’m even more drained, then I have trouble to find the energy to write. The vicious cycle begins and it’s difficult to stop.
To top it all off, then my faithful friends have turned on me – my words won’t come. I so want to share the amazing things that I’m thinking of with you, but it’s like my mouth just can’t keep up with what is going on in my head. And when I try to share them, it’s almost as if I’m speaking a drunken slur. It’s hopeless. I just want my beautiful words to come back.
I’ve tried different techniques to help me. I’ve tried to walk away from the computer for a bit. I’ve distracted myself with different tasks such as drawing, reading, listening to music, but nada. I’ve tried exercising, meditating, speaking to my therapist, but no luck.
I have so many things I want to share with you. As Maya Angelou said “there is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.” So now I’m just going to try writing about not being able to write. It’s torturing me not being able to write, and so with this I’m hoping to ignite that spark again. I feel like a small piece of me is dying when I don’t write and I need to revive it. I hate this hollow feeling I have inside of me, which I know is the part of me that thrives when I write that is missing.
I’m hoping that you will see more of me over then next few weeks. But if you don’t, it’s not because I’ve forgotten you, or I’ve given up. That’s far from the truth.