I have been convinced for over a year, closer to two actually, that I suffer from acute writer’s block. There are many reasons for this:
Firstly, I got a job. The biggest creativity-killer in the world is a job that you don’t really feel passionate about. The work is all right, the compensation is good, and it addresses my immediate needs very well. But it sucks up so much of my day, I don’t have time to write.
Secondly, the little time I do have is spent in being ferociously tired. I am flagging and always on the verge of falling asleep because I haven’t had enough hours before to rest. Then, I just want to do something passively entertaining, like reading or watching TV, rather than engage my depleted energy resources in something worthwhile.
As a corollary to the second point, I have massive lists of content I want to consume. It drives me crazy to see the podcasts, RSS feeds, Facebook saved links, and watch/read lists overflow with unread markers. Without exaggeration, I think that the cumulative time of all those things far outstrips a reasonable life expectancy. I think the Internet has a term for this: FOMO or fear of missing out.
Finally, I feel like the spark is lost. I was typing up hilarious posts on Facebook, dreaming up the occasional zinger on Twitter, before I thought about restarting blogging. I was desperate to retain that lightness of word and sparkle of narrative that comes naturally to me when I am happy. But that’s the trouble: I haven’t been happy. There is a lot weighing me down, and one of those things is my unfulfilled expectations of myself.
I haven’t blogged in a while, because I can’t see the sparkle in my writing any more. But to regain it, I need to stop feeling trapped by those confines, and just write. So, this blog is changing direction a little bit. It is now a practice space for a newly resurrected love, and all the attention I need to lavish on it.