For an instant last night, wrapped up in my own world that included hot chocolate, Facebook, a chocolate chip cookie, this odd little dog, and a dozen other things to steal my attention away from reality, I forgot to write.
What scares me about that statement is it happens much more often than I would admit it to myself or anyone else. Maybe that’s why I’m telling you now, so I can get it out in the open where it doesn’t hide in the recesses of my daily denial. Confession is good for the soul, they say — we shall see. The truth is I go through constant bouts of self-criticism where I question my abilities and retreat.
I’m in somewhat of a creative void right now and I do exactly the wrong thing to deal with it. I avoid the blank page as if it were the tax man banging at my door. Go away, I shout, hoping the silence will return and I can go about the business of wasting daylight and avoiding my muse.
The blinking cursor beats a rhythm like a sadistic metronome banging out a funeral march as I stare at the blank screen – blip, blip, blip, blip…. It toys with me and I swat at the keyboard trying to drive away the demons that steal the words from my fingers.
The one bright spot in this sea of creative nothingness has been my blog and last night I even forgot that. The horror…. the horror.
Tonight it’s the Oscars and a cup of hot chocolate to offer a few hours of respite from the blinking cursor. And tomorrow is another Monday to work up the courage to tame that flashing little bar that separates me from creative progress. It taunts me… it taunts me…