musings – arts, ink.

I gotta be honest here, even though this is my last post, I’m so tired that I could probably pass out right here and now. But I’m not going to do that. Because this is my very last post.

What does that mean? Well, unidentified, detached voice, I’ll tell you what that means.

It means absolutely nothing. I will keep writing and I will keep seeing shows. I will keep listening to music and I will keep having opinions on said music. I will keep trying to convince my friends to go see movies and I will (probably) keep getting rejected. I will still dance in my room with music blaring, and I will still sing loudly in the shower. I will still curl up before I go to bed and try and watch the next episode of my show until I absolutely cannot keep my eyes open any more.

Sometimes I wonder why I write this column. Not that I’m suggesting that I don’t like it, because it’s probably one of the best things that has happened to me on this campus. But I wonder how this column fits into the grander scheme of things.

If I’m being perfectly honest, not many people read my writing. I’m lucky if I get even a few clicks on my page.

But then, I remember what I feel like when I listen to Walk the Moon’s new album. Or how I feel when I realize that Rabbit Hole (2010) is on Hulu to watch for free. Or how I’m going to have hours of free time this summer to catch up on New Girl or to watch The Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt. And then I realize that this column isn’t about me, as cheesy as that sounds. Its about bringing awareness to something I love. It’s about adding my voice to the echoing din that already exists on the internet. It’s about shaping my skills as a writer, and pushing myself to write something new, something different, or to maybe look at writing in a way I never did before.

In short, it’s about the art, and how the art makes me feel. And it always will be.

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)

Tag: musings

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