Trying to write.
It's been a rough day.
I know writing is the way out. It's ALWAYS the way out. Any mood, no matter how bad, can't withstand the catharsis of writing. Some moods endure through the writing, but they are diminished, and broken into bits more easily digested by processing, exercise, or even the next day's writing. Writing has always been just TOO therapeutic for me. It's just too restorative. Nothing can withstand its power indefinitely. It is my drug. My meditation. My anchor.
But getting to that point, sitting in front of that keyboard, staring at the blank screen, scowling, feeling worthless as the words don't come.... Deeling the weight of a thousand promised articles that remain unwritten and bouncing around in my skull like a pinball game during multiball.... Nothing coming into my head except ridiculous pinball metaphors.... Wanting to just slink back to bed.
That's the struggle.
One. One word. Just one. Then another. Make a sentence. Then one more. You can do it. Now try three sentences. Might as well finish the paragraph. There you go. Feeling better?
[Whether it's a downside or an upside, my heart is on my sleeve with this blog. And every time I'm having trouble writing, you all will be the first to know. I think it's important that young writers and starting writers see this. It's vital that they know that some days are a terrible struggle with the blank page, that real life gets in the way, that none of us are machines. But also that we don't let shitty days be an excuse to do nothing, that the writer sits down and scribbles something out anyway because that's how to push through. Books don't burst fully formed out of a lightning bolt of inspiration, but neither do they sit and wait only for the good days.]