Each week I set aside specific times to write, marking this time as a meeting on my calendar so I stay on track. Usually this works well. There are also unscheduled occasions when an idea hits me and I run to the computer to let my thoughts flow. Sometimes, when I ™m not near my computer, I have to reach for the nearest piece of paper and jot my thoughts down while they're fresh in my mind. In any case, I ™ve got a system for accomplishing my writing goals.
And today is writing day. It's a great day for it, too. Weather's cold and bit cloudy; a great day to stay inside. Coffee in hand, I log on to the computer, ready for whatever brilliant, creative idea hits me.
Yep, I ™m ready. Any second now the creative juices will flow. Here we go. OK, just a minute more. Ready, set, write!
Tick-tock, the clock seems to be urging me to write, to do something. Anything.
I look through all my notes, things that I jot down from time to time. Usually there's creative inspiration somewhere on these scraps of paper.
I ™m not sure what's wrong. It's like my brain has locked up, unable to think, unable to do anything. I can't even seem to move in my chair.
Panic starts to set in as I know that I need to write. The more I panic, the less creative I become.
I stand up from my desk. I stretch. I walk outside for a minute. Pet the dog. Play solitaire. Look at a magazine. Close my eyes and try to imagine the story flowing effortlessly through my fingers and onto the page.
Suddenly it occurs to me that I may not be able to write anything today. Not possible! It's on the schedule. It's writing day . I massage my temples, eyes closed. Must ¦write ¦creatively.
Now I ™m frantic. What will I do if I can't write something? Tick-tock, tick-tock. Now the clock seems to be mocking me, making fun of my inability to write on command. Why do we still have a clock that makes noise? Shouldn't that be digital?
As the minutes slip by I become paralyzed in front of my desk. I realize the sky is dark, getting close to evening. Here I sit, alone in the dark, in front of a blank computer screen “ no witty words on the page. Fear of failure creeps in. I can feel my lips begin to quiver as a lone tear runs down my cheek.
The door opens and Hubby comes in. What's wrong? he asks. Why are you sitting in the dark? At that point the sobbing begins as I tell him I ™m done. No more writing for me; apparently I ™ve used up all the creative ideas in my mind. Forever. Writing, my favorite creative endeavor, must be over. My shoulders shake as the feeling of failure envelopes me.
As gently as possible, Hubby tries to console me. He knows to tread lightly. One time, early in our marriage, he encountered a similar situation and in an attempt to help get me moving forward again he told me to buck up, little soldier . As many of you know, these are not the words a woman wants to hear when she's in need of consoling. Let's just say that was not a good night for Hubby.
Smarter and wiser this time, he hugs me and holding my face in his hands he says simply, there's no crying in blogging .
I don't know about you, but this does not seem like the best time for a baseball analogy, does it?
Yet I know he's right, even if I don't want to admit it. Writing is fun to me. This is what drives me to get up. It challenges me and forces me to think about things in a different way. Why should I cry over something that I enjoy so much?
Again, it's that fear of failure creeping in. Especially since the lay-off. I ™m even more driven to succeed than before, and the pressure I put on myself is probably a bit much.
Will I ever lose the fear? I hope so. And Hubby's right; I ™ll get my creative juices flowing again. This is simply a temporary set-back.
I still think there can be crying in blogging. After all, it got me to write this post.
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