Navigating a writer’s block
To be loved but not known is comforting but superficial- Timothy Keller
Having been at it for two years now, writing perpetually keeps me on my toes while simultaneously knocking me off my feet. What started out as a pass time activity slowly morphed to a space where I could tell authentic stories and say so much without saying a word. What I did not anticipate though were the in-betweens where all I wanted to do was to sit on the edges, dangling my feet and wiggling my toes because I had no intention of jumping in. In these moments, I was too scared to follow the generic script because penning depth and substance for me has never been linear or structured.
Today though, I had to drag myself to the pen. It’s almost been three months of dealing with the tumultuous reality of having so much to say but not knowing where to start, having an audience so ready to listen but an artist who has been struggling to put it all out with effortless grace. I had felt so out of touch with the one thing which gave me and so many others perspective. This space which I have grown to love and was proud to call my own began to scare me and what I once thought was my escape became the very last place I wanted to exist.
It was in this moment that I learnt to practice patience and stillness. I have been forced to accept that this gift that doesn’t stop giving sometimes needs to be nurtured. I needed to fill my cup before pouring into others. I needed to grow my mind before growing my craft. I needed to learn that in a world where people do not associate wisdom with beginners, I had to find the courage to try again. I had to learn that sometimes, that is what the journey is about. It devours and then it ennobles and in its fully acknowledged state, it humbles and uplifts.
I am learning that sometimes what’s in my heart and in my mind will be greater than my willingness to create. That sometimes, honing my craft means accepting that there will be days when I will not be able to transcend my way out of a mental block and that taking time to nurture my mind is giving the world the best of me and not what’s left of me. I have found solace and serenity in interpreting what we call life through my writing and if everything was to have a logical purpose, then I guess I write to be.
Have you been in a funk before? How did you come out of it?
