Go Away, I’m Trying To Write Here

I don’t think I’ve encountered anything more frustrating than writer’s block. I mean, it’s called writer’s block for a reason. But for me, writer’s block is so much more than not being able to write.

You see, I don’t get normal writer’s block. It’s not like I just sit in front of a computer for an hour trying to think of the next thing Matt from Story C would say to his best friend John. If it were that simple, I would have done NaNoWriMo every year and just put out crappy stories that no one really cares about because they’re so horrible. I mean, that is what NaNoWriMo is about.

For me, writer’s block is so much more personal. I don’t think this applies to most people because I don’t think most writers approach their writing like I do (but I could be wrong). You see, when I get writer’s block, it’s not usually about not being able to write. I’m always able to write. I’m always able to put words on a page and read them and make them sound grammatically correct. But being able to put them down well, being able to enchant people with just words on a page, and being able to say yes I made this and be proud of it terrifies me.

Because for me, writing isn’t just something I enjoy. Sure, it may have started out that way, but now that I’m in 323, now that I’m telling people I’m going to be a CW Concentrator (different than a major people), I feel the pressure not only to put out work but put out work that says I deserve to be a writer. If I don’t put out that work, I feel judged, vulnerable, like I’m just one baby step behind everyone else, like I should have learned how to use “sophisticated” instead of “fancy” already.

But most importantly, the reason why writer’s block is so frustrating, why I just want to scream and pound on the walls and rip ideas straight from my head is something so simple that most people probably don’t even realize it. I hate writer’s block because it blocks my primary form of creative expression. I don’t sing, I don’t have great fashion sense, I can’t dance to save my life, but writing, writing is mine. And when I’m so scared that I can’t even do that, can’t put my heart on a page and let the blood run down into ink, I’m angry.

But you know, that’s why I write for this blog. That’s why I’m taking three ULWR, why I push myself to take classes that I know are gonna be hard. This Shakespeare class isn’t kicking my butt for nothing. And every time I make a victory, get my grade back and get comments on it that say good job, the frustration is totally worth it.

Because for me, writer’s block pushes me to be better. And in return, I am better.

(this post brought to you by Jeannie’s anxiety over not posting on Wednesday)

(also maybe that paper on Yeats that’s due next week)

(probably more the Yeats paper)