Everybody’s heard of it: the dreaded writer’s block. And it’s called a block for a reason. It stops up every passage in your brain and shuffles around your memories and vocabulary like stale dinner on old china. It’s like constant rejection. You are telling yourself, “No. Not this. Not today.”
As a writer, I like to complain. I like to procrastinate. I want to give up. I want to succumb to the block and allow myself to become walled up inside my own being. I feel numb to the emotions and the tastes of possibility. I feel myself deteriorate. It’s a terrible feeling, because I think I’m letting myself down. I feel like the weaker person. I don’t feel like a superhero. I feel lesser.
Those are the hard days. Those are the days when I have to slug and grind and work. I have to write like I’m bleeding…
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