I have periods of high creativity and low creativity. But
writer’s block isn’t invited to any of my days.
I refuse to have writer’s block.
I connect that feeling of “I’ve got nothing to offer” some writers experience to
perfectionism. I haven’t been cursed with perfectionism.*
*{Perfectionism as a block is not to be confused with depression, which may block most every activity. I'm blessed not to be prone to that, either. I think Writer's Block, specifically, is caused by aiming at pristine results right off the bat.}
Writing anything, regardless of how well it’s coming out, has to do sometimes.
*{Perfectionism as a block is not to be confused with depression, which may block most every activity. I'm blessed not to be prone to that, either. I think Writer's Block, specifically, is caused by aiming at pristine results right off the bat.}
Writing anything, regardless of how well it’s coming out, has to do sometimes.
I’m okay with that.
In fact, I give a self-pat-on-the-back for plowing through the barren patches
even more than the fertile ones.
It’s the perfectionist who crumbles half-typed pieces of
paper in disgust, or deletes whole Word files in exasperation. Not good enough!
Bad! I can’t write!
Which is another way of saying it isn’t perfect.
Perfect, as far as I’m concerned, is an illusion. Going for
perfect is a delusion. But keeping going is the real deal.
I’ve discovered this long ago, when I realized that some of
the chapters I’ve written under feelings of drought actually read better than
what I experienced as inspired writing at the time.
But even that is
subjective.
Letting go of the search for perfection also brings the
blessing of knocking down that thing, the writer’s block.
Knocking it off block by block.
