Writer's Block (standard:Editorials, 565 words)
Author: Lori	Added: May 20 2007	Views/Reads: 3412/2	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
The title says enough.

Writer's Block 

By: Lori 

I think the title is self-explanatory. A writer tries to break through
the dreadful feelings of writer's block. 
_______________________________________________________________________ 


We go through it at one time or another. The awful notion of having
something to say, but not being able to get it down on paper. The 
demoralized emotion of looking inside yourself and not finding a 
glimpse of life. The stillness, in your head, is so deafening because 
you're so used to it being filled with people screaming, wanting their 
stories told. This sentiment is called writer's block. The objective is 
to overcome these feelings and pen something brilliant and insightful. 
But, what would happen if we couldn't? What would our lives be like if 
the characters in our heads decided to take a long break from their 
reality and accentual your own? 

I'm so used to calling myself a writer. What would I call myself if the
marvelous artistic creation of writing is lost to me? I'm not an author 
because I haven't finished a book (finished is the key word). I'm not a 
composer because I can't write poetry or songs, even though I've tried. 
I'm not a journalist because I don't report the news. I'm not one for 
writing diaries, so I'm not a diarist. 

Will I be a “normal” person? I hate that word. What is “normal” and who
defines the word? Or will they call me deranged if I'm catch talking to 
myself? I do this anyway, it's just that now no one is answering me 
back. 

So, what will I be? What will my life be without the triumphs I find in
writing? Even doing this meaningless task of trying to overcome 
writer's block is demanding for me. I get ideas but when I put them 
down on paper they either sound stupid, or they don't flow right. Or I 
have to fight so hard to get the words out I feel like a failure for 
even trying to write something in the first place. My life feels so 
vacate and immaterial. 

For so long I've dreamed of being a fabulous authoress. I want to give
the world my sentiments and make it a better place to live. I have a 
hunger to see my name on something people will read and find 
inspirational and heartfelt. I want to give back to the world of 
literature everything I've taken from it and make my mark on it. 

I'm not doing it for the fame and fortune. I can live without both of
these things. I find that when you want something for impure reasons 
you get the bad attributes from it. That's why I strive to be better 
then that. I want to do it for the right reasons to be honored in the 
correct way. 

My mother had a dream a few weeks ago. In it she comes to my house to
find me. She had been at an awards banquet in honor of me. I had 
written a book and won and award for it. I didn't go because I didn't 
like the book. Since finding this out every idea in my head has dried 
up. So, I ask myself: is it the fear of succeeding holding me back? Or 
is it something else? I'll have to figure that out to overcome this 
block of doom and despair. 

© February 23, 2007 


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