Writing about a writer’s block is better than not writing at all. – Charles Bukowski
More than anything I love writing. I love to write and, hopefully, be of help, support to others. I like the idea of inspiring and being inspired. But lately, I felt hardly like doing both. I was distracting myself with other “exciting” shiny things, I was happy to blur my focus and to go off the grid.Also, I would often find myself happily staying on my safe and comfy bridge of procrastination. Which way to go: left or right? What might happen? The answer: anything, anything might happen as long as you don’t choose what to do next.Over the last 6 months, I’ve been stumbling across emails questioning: Where are you? Why did you stop writing? I was reluctant to answer.What can I say? I didn’t feel like it. For the first time in my life, I was hit by the odd train called “writer’s block”.I dove into the world of startups, talented people and fantastic opportunities. Those new amazing things took over me completely making less room for writing. I failed to notice how all of a sudden the need to write (almost) evaporated.In addition to that, “busyness” became my new badge of honor! I simply couldn’t find time to write…To hell with that..! Whom am I kidding?! Of course, I could have found some time to write… Don’t we always tend to find a clearing in our schedule to do the things that matter to us?
Over the last couple of months writing simply shifted from my priority list…Then I would wake up each morning feeling more empty, joyless and unfulfilled. The more I refused to write the less I felt alive. Occasionally I would go on and revisit my articles previously published here and there… I would read the lines – finding hard to believe that those were ever written by me!“Ha. How simple it used to be… Kickstarting a sentence and then it flows effortlessly like a stream from the mountain top… thoughts, words, expressions… but now. It’s hard, ma-a-an!” – I would think to myself scrolling down continuing reading.Then… more time has passed.
I went to New York, the city of astonishing, shimmering lights. Where time seems to accelerate with every second…
One day I was walking down Battery Park along Hudson river and I felt that bizarre razor-like sensation in my stomach. Shortly after that one thought followed saying: C’mon, wake the hell up! WRITE! You came here to WRITE! “I came here, to New York, to write? What?!” – I demanded. “Write about what? I have nothing, absolutely NOTHING to say” – I was trying to persuade my conscience to shut up.
The next day I’ve attended a masterclass held at New York Times building. Surely enough that razor-like sensation came back. New thought stormed in screaming: “C’mon girl! You are at New York Times building for God’s sake! WRITING… think about writing! Or shall I flood your mind with more obvious images-reminders of Pushkin, Kafka, and your beloved Elizabeth Gilbert?! Start writing again! NO EXCUSES.”
I didn’t feel like writing. At all. It’s been such long time… I’ve been writing since the young age, yes. I have an unpublished book that I wrote back in 2003. Writing has always been inseparable from who I am.
To be completely honest, it petrified me to even think about starting a new sentence. At first.
But here’s something peculiar: I can’t live without writing. So why on Earth have I stopped and deprived myself of it? Does this sound familiar to anyone?
Here’s What Helped Me to Overcome Writer’s Block
My wild guess is that sometimes when we get too close to something – we might fail to appreciate its significance because of its proximity. When I take a step back it gives me a healthy distance that allows loving that even more… like a long distance relationship or a secret cookie jar on a top shelf… though if we stay way too long apart from what we love… remember that image of a campfire – the closer we are the warmer it gets – the farther we step away, the colder..?
I guess I stepped away too far from what I loved. I got caught up with things, got distracted for way too long which resulted in a deep sense of loss and ridiculous sensation of being cold. Something was missing. It got too cold for me without writing… too cold, too empty… to purposeless.
What gives your life that raging sense of joy? What do you miss of doing? What is distracting you from doing what matters, what you love the most? And what’s stopping you to kickstart that all over again?
So let me start over by saying: Hey everyone, I’m back and am not going away (anytime soon)… except for now.
Thank you for your emails, concerns, and warm wishes. Hugs and kisses, Love you all! xo