Over the past several weeks, I’ve had what is professionally called ‘writer’s block’. I wanted to write, but the ideas, the thoughts, the words did not come. Thinking that the blanks would be filled soon, I just needed a period of rest, so I shoved the keyboard aside and went about life, breathing in and breathing out, walking and talking, reading other peoples words on the latest news. Killing time.
I got involved watching the winter Olympics. Between the broadcasts, I happened upon a British TV detective series that was interesting, and I was hooked. When an episode ended, I immediately started the next one comfortably relaxed with the coffee cup chilling nearby. I would spend hours glued to watching the screen filled with life. Comfortably relaxed in my recliner, I was intrigued by the mysteries, yet I was there in flesh only being hypnotized by the mystery. Inside, I wanted to get creative again, but that’s as far as any desire would lead. The want, but no will. No understanding of how to get started again. As I watched the series I noted how the hooks were placed to keep the audience interested. Was this an educational time? A time to learn how the screen writers plot for interest.
Will I get the desire to write, to get creative with words and sentences again? Why can’t I? Is this the end of my creativeness? Does God have another plan for me? Be patient. Seek and wait. Wait and seek. I’m listening. Lord, I’m here.
I sat here yesterday desiring to write again. I opened the Word program staring at the whiteness of the screen and the blackness of the keyboard. Closed the program. I opened this blog going all the way back to the first entry, reading each post again. Hmm? Was that me writing that? Did I actually compose those thoughts, those words into sentences? Where did those ideas come from? Does not sound like me. I was impressed. Reading on I found a few errors I had not seen and corrected the miss-punctuation before hitting the send button. I was still impressed. I can do this again. Thank you, Lord.
I woke up early this morning way before the sun started peeking over the horizon. I was excited at the thoughts coming wanting the water to seep through the coffee grounds quicker, so I could get with it. I desired to activate my fingers again to follow the thoughts and here I am. The previous sentences came. The sun is still hiding. I’m still punching. I want to write again, and I will. This is the end of my time of ‘writer’s block’. I enjoy the art of writing. It is an art. I write without the thought of being on the front page of the NY Times. I just enjoy the time spent doing something I love to do. It’s better for me in my old age to keep my grey matter spinning than being reclined in an easy chair letting the flesh get sluggish.
And so, I hope you enjoy reading these lines, all five of you. Stay tuned to the next.