Originally published March 28, 2008. I am reposting this as a renewal of my commitment to my creative passion in 2010.One popular mantra among writers is the idea that "you can't fix a blank page", meaning that lousy writing is better than no writing at all. Often times though, when I have the opportunity to write, I am unable to conquer the blank page. I often find myself seated, pen in hand or keyboard under my fingertips, feeling as blank as the page before me.
When I sleep soundly I dream vividly, and upon awakening I have much to write about. But life demands my immediate attention, and my dream-inspired places, scenes and characters fade quickly into oblivion. Many a story with enormous potential has been miscarried in this manner.
Even the inspirations that come from my own life experiences are no match for my mountainous writer's block. Many a tale from my real life has failed to make it to any form of print, so what hope does fiction even have?
It if weren't for blogging I would never write at all. I have my addiction to public journaling to thank for the fact that my writer's brain gets any exercise at all.
When I do write, is is my habit to write out of sequence. I tend to write what I feel, rather than planning out a scene from start to finish and writing it that way. In fact, most of my pieces have never progressed past a file folder or CD full of random, unconnected scenes. I'm not good at the bridge work that it requires to pull them all together into a completed work.
There have been many times in my life when my writing has been much-needed therapy. Be it journaling, poetry or fiction, much of my work today has filled some need in me that was not otherwise to be met. When I was a young teen struggling with isolation and lonliness, the characters I created were much needed friends. Later, as a young bride and new mother, trapped in a negative home situation, my writing provided me a safe place to go and an outlet for emotions that no one else seemed to understand.
These days there are internet groups for almost everyone in every situation, full of people going through similar things in life. For most of my life though, I was isolated and often lonely. As a young mom whose toddler just
would not sleep, I spent hours feeling like I was the only one in the world awake at 2 am rocking a crying, restless child. With tears running down my face, I prayed that she would just fall asleep. My own sleep deprivation only compounded my sense of failure and inadequacy. Had it not been for a red spiral notebook and green felt tip pen, I might not have made it though that time.
I'm older now, and wiser. I have experience to guide me, other moms to share with and a wealth of information at my fingertips when it comes to parenting, marriage and other topics of concern to me in my daily life. I guess it could be observed that I don't need my writing as much as I used to.
Be that as it may, the desire to write is still there and still strong. The urge to put ink to paper in some format the other is always with me. Romances, adventures, women's fiction themes and more roll around in my head while I go about the daily tasks before me. No matter how carefully I plan, how many notes I scribble down or how many characters I nurture to life, I Can't quite seem to bridge the gap to making them a literary reality.
Somehow I am always.....interrupted.