Tuesday, March 25, 2014

// writer's block

When I write, I see puzzle pieces. Each sentence is a piece that makes up a large puzzle... a book, an essay, an article, a blog post. Sometimes I write and write and write. I sort of babble on paper, if you will. Then I go back and dissect everything I wrote. I look and read and think in order to find just the right place for each word and sentence. Sometimes (often) the last paragraph I wrote ends up being the first and the middle the end and the beginning the middle. When I find the right place for something, I just know. It feels incredibly satisfying to have a piece that flows well and makes sense. I love the feeling of matching a group of words with another and knowing that it just works right. Just like a puzzle, what I try to do with words is to create a big picture for the reader to see.

For months, all I have seen is a big, messy pile of puzzle pieces that I can't even begin to put together because some of them don't even belong with each other. It's like my kids dumped all of their puzzles on the floor, then danced on them, then made snow angels on top of them .

It gives me anxiety, really.

All of these puzzle pieces, in my weird writer's head, are ideas and sentences and words that I am dying to put together. My poor unused and unchallenged mind just yearns to be able to write a solid sentence... maybe even a paragraph.

I miss writing. I don't know if I've ever gone so long without writing for pleasure. I try to think back to a time when I wasn't writing something just for the hell of it. Not since middle school, I don't think. To me writing has been a constant listening ear. I write when I am happy, sad, angry, lonely. It's the way I rejoice, mourn, and grief. It is the way that I process everything that life throws at me.

I guess recently I just haven't fully processed anything.

It seems that the space in my brain is entirely taken up lately. Any ideas that pop into my brain for blog posts or articles quickly fade away. The ones that dwell behind end up linger undeveloped, lifeless. It's a writers block like I have never experienced before. My usual remedy (a cold beer or a glass of wine) has failed me.

Because I try to avoid writing a public diary on this blog, I've kind of run out of inspiration. Unfortunately, I don't have much to write about these days than my daily life. I'm focused on surviving each day with two kids. I must admit that after sixteen months, I'm still not totally accustomed to being a mother of two. So each day I wake up, go through the motions, and I am baffled by the amount of work that goes into caring for two tiny bodies, minds, and souls. It is certainly not proportional to their size.

I know there is so much to be observed in my daily activities. So much inspiration in changing a diaper, driving a kid to school and back, washing dishes, folding laundry, sweeping the floor five times. I am aware that there is much to ponder there and I squint my eyes searching for all of the inspiration from daily life but then, I'm brought back to reality by Fisher Price Little People figure that someone threw and hit me square in the forehead. This season of my life doesn't leave me much time to reflect. Life is superficial right now. Survival mode. I struggle to think coherent thoughts and write coherent sentences.

So that's where I am . That's why I've been quiet. I am hoping that the mere ability to write this very blog post means that this writer's block phase is coming to an end.

Slowly I have felt a little more inspiration. When ideas pop into my head, I've been able to develop some further and further. It's like I can see two or three puzzle pieces that belong together. It's a painfully slow process but I can see how the puzzle will finally come together. Just like that, I put one puzzle together. On to the next, I hope!

I have so many things to share. Some silly and pointless... like the pictures of our trip to Costa Rica that I will share in coming days and some a little deeper than that. I'm excited to climb out of this dark uninspired hole that I've been in. My heart is literally skipping a beat to urge me out. How long will it take? It's something I can't gage yet. It's slow and difficult but I have hope that it will be soon.

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