Blogger Block

I have been coming up empty. Drained or strained- unable to write anything that I feel is of much interest to me. In the year that I have been maintaining this blog I have not run up against this quagmire. Ideas for blog posts flooded my mental capacities and I could not keep my fingers away from the key board. But now I have grown uninterested and discontent. I’d rather meditate than write and I am more entertained watching my birds than I am creating blog posts. I wonder if I am growing tired of the self deprecating, victimized revelations that I indulge in my writings. There have been times that I feel as if I am revealing too much and should maybe with hold some personal information from the blogosphere. But the more dominant half of me has always believed that good writing is about honesty and if I am incapable of being honest in my writing, why write?

So I have abstained from writing. I have created a few short stories that lack the ardor, tenacity and wit that I would like to cultivate in my prose- but they are tolerable. Maybe I have grown bored with the tales of terror, anxiety, perversion, marital woe, sexual frustration and absurdity that I have spent the past year religiously telling or maybe I just need a break. Ideas for stories to write are still often coming into my head, as if a hand of some ethereal muse refuses to let me alone, but the moment I transform the idea into prose I grow bored before I have even gotten past the first paragraph. I spell word after word wrong and can not find the words to describe a thought. I often wonder if this blog is simply a ridiculous waste of my time but then I am reminded of how much I enjoy certain comments when they come maybe once a week. Or is this a lie I tell myself to manipulate my way around the task of writing the novel I have dreamed of creating ever since I came out of my fathers womb (this is another story I still have to tell). Even now as I write this blog entry I want to delete it. This is a ridiculous rant of a jaded mind that has become frozen in it’s own lack of spontaneity. Whatever the case may be- I believe that I may be suffering from my first case of blogger’s block.

A writing teacher of mine told me the other day to just keep writing. “Even if what you have to say is crap, put it up on your blog for all the world to see. You are writing for you and nothing more, so what have you got to hide?” What my writing teacher does not realize is that I am not writing just for me. I failed to admit to him that I am writing for fame, immortality, financial security and the privilege of accepting literary awards that will free me from my day job and afford me the title “novelist” when I have to tell people what I do. It is a grand dream that may never be attained, but deep down I feel as if this absurd digital diary is a small step along the blistering way. And after all, it is the journey and not the destination, that matters most, right? So I’ll keep writing, or at least I will try to keep writing- and maybe way out there, somewhere- one person will keep on reading.

6 thoughts on “Blogger Block

  1. I’m reading it, Randall. I’m not commenting all the time because I run out of things to say. Even this piece of writing is smooth and balanced and traces a thought with great precision and a subtle tone. If you are tiring of your subject matter, perhaps that thought is sneaking out in your writing and that is why it seems to lack vigour to you. You have to realise that despite your commitment to the truth, a very valuable asset to writer is an imagination and a willingness to meet whatever readership you have halfway. A writer’s life is rarely interesting since it is usually spent silently observing and thinking and rarely going out and partying and reporting back on conquests. How many writer’s have a made a living telling the plain truth? See this why I don’t comment on your writing all the time. It is beautiful writing but I just want to take you out and get you mindless pissed on the streets of Amsterdam and smuggle you onto a fucking boat travelling the world living off your wits and then read your writing. That would be so cool.

  2. hey randall,

    as you mentioned in your comment on my blog, it’s gotta be writing for writing’s sake, because it is worth it to you to write.

    of course we all want attention. we want to be acknowledged. we want page views and comments. we want enough security from our writing to make it worthwhile.

    but at the end of the day, there has to be an intrinsic motive or pleasure that gets you through the night.

    so keep at it! just write and keep writing with no expectations and see where it takes you.

    btw, your art is very cool and i suggest you submit a piece to guerilla reads (on my blogroll) they are looking for a banner!

  3. Thank you both for these up lifting comments.

    Paul- I could not agree with your more. I spend much too much time in the sanctity and safety/terror of my own head. I get out little. I often think to myself what kind of writer would I be if I was running around the globe? If you ever feel like man-napping me- I will go willingly.

    None the less you have inspired me to type up the journals that I kept while in Spain last year. Stay tuned.

  4. Oh I will keep reading all right. As long as I am here, you can count on me to be reading.

    I hope that we will have this writing and reading relationship for a very long time to come.

    Maybe even one day I will hold a hard copied book in my hand that will be written by someone that I admire immensely. And that is just because he made me admire him from his writing on this blog.

    Love Renee xoxoxo

  5. Thank you Renee.

    I have fallen upon hard times and a comment like this lifts me up. I will be back to writing on this blog as soon as I can get my head out of the mud. When I return it will be a better book 2. For now book 1 has got plenty of material to keep readers reading. I hope you are well.

  6. Now when you pick your head up out of the mud, just give it a wipe and don’t let it keep telling you what the mud was like. Just remind it that you know, after all it is attached to you, so you were right there with it.

    I don’t need better, because what you give is more than enough.

    Love Renee xoxoxo

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