WRITER’S BLOCK

By Sharon May

Either humorously or seriously, we all have claimed to have writer’s block. It’s a scary feeling, and the words sound deeply engrained and overwhelming.

Determining what causes one’s writer’s block is difficult for those of us who think we need a reason before we can fix it. Recently, I have felt blocked. Losing both my only brother and my youngest uncle in the last three months has depressed me. That’s to be expected.

My ability to write after a death has always varied. My maternal grandfather died while I was in college, and it made me feel blocked. A year later, a twelve-year-old cousin was killed in a car wreck, and I was extremely motivated and focused, writing, in a week, a draft of a 50-page story that did not focus on death.   

After my brother died in July, I was motivated. I guess I figured I have little time to screw around. With my uncle’s death earlier this month, I have no motivation to write though I get ideas all day long. You may say that drafting a short poem, a three-page scene for the novel, and this blog proves I’m not blocked at all. Not technically, but I feel a wall separating me from my words.

So, writing this blog has been interesting. I do remember when I volunteered some weeks ago, I had an idea, which I cannot remember for the life of me. It’s somewhere on a piece of paper whose location also escapes me. Not much can get through the fog in my shocked and angry mind. In fact, I had forgotten I volunteered for this week’s blog. Ginny’s reminder was quite a surprise. Believe me, I thought about begging off. But I usually try to fulfill commitments, and I figured the task might be good for me.

After thinking on it for a few days, I tried Friday night to come up with ideas. Told myself I had permanently run out of them, brainstormed with a friend, tried writing on one idea, while toying with another in my head. Got nowhere. No coherence or cohesion. Just words on a page. On Saturday, the task crossed my mind several times. No writing though. Come Sunday morning, I tried to avoid it by sleeping late and running errands. Finally, I decided I had to give it some attention.

I laid down on the bed, and a couple of our cats promptly joined me, my favorite scenario for thinking about a writing task. I asked myself what was on my mind, and of course, death was the answer. Write what you know, right? I didn’t jump up immediately. Instead, I tried to find the point I wanted to make. No luck with that. It was time to put words on paper.

The words came. Must be why writers recommend writing through the block, pretending it doesn’t exist. Denial is a great place to live.