Ah, the first day of a new year. Lousy sleep last night with all the gunnery practice echoing through the hills and valleys of my quiet mountains. I find a certain comfort in knowing those midnight maniacs will be feeling like hammered snot today and I feel “bright eyed and bushy tailed,” as Dad used to say.
It seems only fitting that my first post of the new year be about the issue that writing posts will counteract… writer’s block.
I don’t like the term, “writer’s block.” It brings images of big concrete blocks to mind and that image screams permanent. Instead, I like to use the term, “creative constipation.” Now, there’s a term that a humor writer would come up with… a little snarky, and a lot of imagery. Anyway, it’s mine and I like it.
Creative constipation is a condition. A temporary condition that settles into an artist’s life and plays hell with progress. After stopping the creative process it flowers into a full-blown dismantling of all previous accomplishments. In my case, I stopped writing, removed my writing from the market, and doubted my value as a writer.
Then, to make matters worse, my writer soul tormented me daily I wasn’t doing what I love. That inner voice cut me little slack in its criticism of my cowardliness. After six months I couldn’t take it anymore.
So, today, with this post, I begin a healing process. I will write the words that will bring relief. I will write the stories that will add a little humor to a world suffering from too much anger.