It’s officially happened. To me. To long winded, always-has-too-much-to-say-for-her-own-good-me. I’ve got writer’s block. That infamous condition that happens to writers everywhere and across all time and space. I can’t think of what to write. A few weeks back I started my second novel, tentatively titled “Moses” and wrote the first two chapters plus most of a third. The subtitle is “Delirium”. Maybe that’s the problem. When I started the book I was feeling joyful. I cranked out those chapters in a short time. I was feeling so happy. Then it went away, and along with it, my ability to write about delirium. What happened? I just simply lost the ability to feel good. It happens. I suppose you’ve experienced it once or twice. When a writer loses confidence, especially when the current subject is joy, well…it’s debilitating.
I’ve got to get myself happy again so I can write. I need to finish my new book. I want to feel accomplished, that my life amounts to something beyond mere survival and propagation of the species (of which I’ve already done my fair share.) I want to feel joy, or at least enough contentment with my life to be able to write my stories. That’s oh so important to me.
Meanwhile, I’ve been writing up a storm of poetry which I’m proud of, and that’s a form of happiness in itself. I’m expressing my emotions but not in a linear fashion. It’s not the same as completing a chapter of my book. But it will do, it will have to do for now. I realize that not as many people enjoy poetry or want to understand it as those who read novels. But poetry has real value for me and allows me to cope in this world. I hope you’ll bear with me as I endeavor to figure things out. Maybe a vacation is in order to help clear my head.