I can’t even think how many months it has been since I’ve written. Anything. Anything other than lectures for classes or comments on papers. Maybe some lists of food or things needed, a constant failing of bill paying, this or that, a journal with nothins, broken numbers and endless yarn, frayed. I’m not going through a spell or writer’s block. It was and is a choice.
I’ve taken a strong year now insistent upon not touching letters on plastic to weave words into visions. I insist upon myself. There is no such thing as writer’s block if you have a brain and a beating heart. If you, or me, or anyone really wanted to, we can put one letter next to the other and make a word, a space, and another word. To write is to write is to write. Perfection is over-rated and a deep seething open sore that spends yards of twisted entanglement for a million miles of thought. Write down the worming mess and get over it. So. I’m not going to write anything anyone wants or cares to read. So be it. It should never be about the satisfaction of others. Sure. Success in anything in life is sweet and these moments rock by in a smooth gliding boat oared by others supporting the weight of a million things gone wrong in existed time. But moments, all of them, are fleeting. The creation of all moments takes truth and possibility, and anything outside of this is cemented to repeat in broken circles where one can know what is happening and can know the meaning of it but cannot or will not express how or why the moment is understood. Success is a standard of the good. It is in the Greeks, the Romans, the Hierarchical patterns in religion, Feudal systems, democracies, socialism, the Regimes of past and future. It is what defined the worth of the human spirit and soul. Success completes peace of mind, makes the heart beat right and longer, breaths come sweet upon the tongue, and it is easy to smile. Success is understood. We know it. We know what it means. We know how to explain it for understanding.
Maybe this is what writer’s block really is. This idea of success. Am I blocked because I am unsuccessful in the art? If so, then I am unjustly attaching the process (of which all things are a process) to the result when they should most definitely be their own separate struggles. I use to worry about what approval for others determines the success of the one. But approval cannot happen until completion. One must complete one letter first. So, to me, this defines the completion (upon further approval or disapproval) as it’s own separate entity, something that does not have anything to do with the process of anything. Approval or disapproval (by which one determines personal success through the feedback of others) cannot be fulfilled until the creator of the process has decided the process is over for them. So. What is the block these artists keep talking about?
We, as artists, mothers, fathers, sons, daughters, etc., should be more truthful with ourselves and others when it comes to processing, completing and establishing approval/disapproval. Is it really possible to have writer’s block under these terms? How can you be blocked from existence? From moments? From any process of life? The only blocks one can use are the ones used in walling up the self from that which fears, angers, shames, or creates guilt. Thereby, using the famed terminology of “writer’s block” is a way to acknowledge only a partial truth, another way to avoid that which can cause shame, fear, anger, guilt.
I’ve heard it plenty of times before about “in order to treat (like writer’s block is a completed action when nothing has been processed to begin with) writer’s block, you must look deeper inside.” Yeah. Look deeper alright, but do something more powerful. Own the damned thing to manipulate it, spin it, turn it, try all kinds of things to cause change. Stuck in a rut? Wiggle your ass right out of it.
Maybe instead of giving the issue a power, we should take that power for our own. But, you can’t own anything as your own unless you are completely honest with it. Otherwise, the things come back, the broken circles beg to be straightened out so damned loud they will destroy every part of the soul and heart, health, mobility, agility, intelligence, etc. Speak truth of it.
You don’t have writer’s block because that is a coined term. It is a noun that is not real. You can’t hold it or manipulate it. And, you certainly cannot own it, so why use it as truth? You have to find out what the burden is (or lack thereof). Name the blank screen, the white or yellowed paper empty of your truth. Name it. Ask it why. Make it move, give the noun an action verb. Do you have writer’s block? Do you own that noun? Or, do you name it to keep what’s really going on from coming and scaring, blaming, shaming or guilting you?
Activate it. I have writer’s block. NO. It’s not a damned disease you catch on an overcrowded airplane. I own writer’s block. NO. Because if you owned it, you could do anything you want with it.
How about: There are many things in my life right now that are in a higher need of my attention than the time, energy, and thought I need to create. And that…because I am human and I am in need of things other than success, is okay and a hell of a lot more healthy for the self.
Would that be more truthful and real to you? And by you, the only you I ever truly mean is myself.