Writers of all ages, to a degree, have become in the position of not being able to write for periods at a time. I’m one of them and this story started out talking about writer’s block but is scattered all over. SMH here, just coming to paste it here on my site. I’ve added to it here and there, but no focus, Wow…
For months and months, I’ve been in a writers’ block. I’ve tried every writer’s trick to come out of it. And it kinda has me in the blues over it. You know, I’ve even started a story about writer’s block and got about three paragraphs in and lost my interest. The story is even about writer’s block called; “Coming Out of The Meadows.” That’s where I feel I am most of the time, and I used to like that field. It usually helps me write, and, I’ve even dated the story I’m writing and even said in it; “Let’s just see how long it takes me to complete it. ” Update on “Coming out of The Meadows”, it turned into a poem instead. A condensed version, haha… Nah, the furthest thing I was writing about. But it got me to thinking about my late wife, Shannon, how we used to walk and talk in that field. “Coming Out of The Meadows” turned into a poem, “Meadows of Green.” Most of my poetry is about her anyway. And this has nothing to do with writer’s block.
Although I did just make a big move from another town back to my home town where I’ve lived that past 19 years. I just didn’t like it where I was at. I lived there a year and a bad experience really. The only good came from living up there was I got to see and meet my newest edition to my family, my granddaughter Aira’ lee. Born just two days after my birthday. The best gift a grandpa can receive. I got to see my daughter, haven’t seen her in a long time, she lives in another state, Michigan, I’m in Indiana. I don’t drive anymore, so that makes everything difficult. Just because of the medications I’m on is my reasoning in this decision.
Outside of coming on WordPress here and setting this site up, I’m still in a funk. I can’t believe it’s gone this long. Maybe the winter hibernation I have here. I’ve gone into a cave to hibernate? I even try talking to my best fur buddy Mischief, and he is another poem I’ve been working on since I rescued him. Longest block I’ve been on for quite some time.
Where or where has my little brain gone. Oh, where, oh where can it be? Sure hope it ends by spring. I’m glad I got this out. And I had to come back on here to add it in about my daughter being a good thing after not seeing her, laps 10 minutes or so.
Hell, I don’t know, writer’s block, writer’s hell, I’m not sure anymore. The best thing though here and now, revising and making changes here and there, to this story. It is now past springtime, and fall now. I’ve started this story in or on Feb. 3rd. here I am adding to it and I’m not blocked anymore. I saw one man’s post about writer’s block on WordPress here, that he didn’t believe in writer’s block, but just becoming burned out. And let’s face it, folks, we are on here daily, writing, so ok, I’ll agree with that.
| Year Posted 2018, 2019 |