I'm fairly certain I've got 'em. And while it is true that I have plenty of blues music, particularly on my Cowboy Beebop soundtracks, those are not the blues I mean.
Neither do I mean denim although I have plenty of that as well.
No, I mean that I am in a funk. I am surrounded by piles of grant writing books and sample letters, and I am sitting here trying to write a letter and having absolutely no luck.
Why? Well, I'm glad you asked that. It's because I've turned into my students. And part of it is that I work with so many students that I've become really good at "fixing" what's already on the page but not so good at creating new material. More than that, though, it's because I am a procrastinator who is so busy making excuses that she can't get her work done.
For starters, I don't believe in writers' block. I've said this before and taken ribbing for it, but honestly. Writers' block does not exist in the way that most people believe. So maybe I've been saying this wrong. I don't believe in giving in to writers' block. This is because I don't believe it's a disease like so many people. I believe it's an excuse.
Case in point: My morning. I have been sitting here thinking of ideas, but every time I try to write them down, my mind draws a blank. I could look at this and say, "Oh, woe is me. I have writers' block" and start looking for a treatment. Instead, I have been looking at the reason for this, and primarily, it's because I'm scared shitless.
I'm writing a letter that is going to have major signatures on it eventually and could determine the entire course of my future, and my mind thinks that "flight" is the response it should take rather than "fight" in regards to this fear. For some reason, my brain thinks that avoiding doing it will make it turn out OK.
Not only that, but I'm trying to make it perfect on the first try, which is the surest way to kill inspiration ever. EVER. It's ridiculous to think that you'll do anything perfectly on the first try, so why do we think that our writing should be error free the first time through? I don't know.
Also, I went to see Narnia last night, which I thought was faboo (read f-ing awesome for those of you who don't remember your Animaniacs), but I always stand in awe of C.S. Lewis (and Tolkein) to the point of becoming completely crippled when it comes to writing. I have nothing left to say after I stand in the light of their works. I can't say anything about human existence that hasn't already been said by these two (at least that's how I feel, which is pretty ridiculous considering neither of them talked much about women at all).
Additionally, everyone and their mom is getting married, and while I don't begrudge (or envy) anyone their happiness, part of me feels like Anne Shirley who just wishes that everything could stay the way that it has always been and not change.
Grandpa's also still really sick. I don't really think he's going to pull through.
Link all that with the fact that I worked much harder this week than I should have (I'm pretty sure I was trying to distract myself from thinking about Grandpa) and the fact that I have severe piles of laundry and dishes that need to be done this afternoon, and you have me in a state of blues. I can't even afford to do retail therapy until the paychecks roll in two weeks from yesterday.
So, I think this means that I am definitely going to go to the broomball game I was invited to play in tomorrow (apparently they are not aware of how much I suck). I think thwacking a frozen rubber ball with a big stick would be a huge comfort right now. (And possibly the side benefit of accidentally checking people in an un-reffed game doesn't make me really sad, either.) See you there if you're bold enough to take me on right now. ;)
There's nothing quite like sweet broomball action ("broomball swaction" if you will) to cure the January funky blues.
Posted by LoWriter at January 21, 2006 11:43 AM