Today is the first day that I’ve regretted committing to a weekly writing schedule. For the last few weeks, things have more or less been smooth sailing- I’ve either been able to come up with an idea on the fly, writing about something of impact that happened over the week, or else I’ve been able to pull out an older unfinished article and polish it up into something new. I guess I thought, perhaps naively, that I’d be able to keep that up indefinitely.
But today, I’m hitting a bout of the dreaded writer’s block. I’ve spent the morning staring at a blank white page, starting over again and again, and not being able to come up with a single thought worth expressing.
It would probably be easier to manage if I just didn’t have any thoughts at all. When you don’t have an idea, you can really pick just any random thing to write about. If I was suffering from a case of “no ideas”, I’d probably be halfway through writing a stupid little adventure story about a magic lamp that grants wishes but only if they’re puns that translate in more than one language. See what I mean? Coming up with something out of absolutely nothing, that’s easy.
The problem for me, at least currently, is that my head is full of too many anxious thoughts that I can’t clear out enough to devote the mental energy to writing. My mind is completely occupied right now with a series of complaints, and every last one of them is something incredibly banal and useless. I’m so tired that I’m actually still writing this from bed, but no matter how tired I am I still have to get up and go to the gym immediately afterwards, because I’m on a seemingly impossible deadline to drop a few pounds before the wedding, doubly so now that we’ve decided on a beach honeymoon, and hopefully I’m not forgetting something important I should’ve booked or bought alongside planning said beach honeymoon, and then to add to that the omnipresent cloud of wedding planning stress that hovers unceasingly over my head at every waking moment is, big surprise, hovering unceasingly over my head like an omnipresent cloud.
Big oof, in other words. But I committed to putting out an article every Sunday, for what I’m sure seemed like a good reason to me at the time, even if it turns out that I wake up on whichever Sunday with no motivation to be alive or even to get out of bed, let alone with the motivation to throw together a piece that someone else might actually enjoy reading. C’est la vie, right?
I guess I’m alright with using this week as a write-off (pun? clever pun? I don’t even know anymore), as long as I can wrangle a new goal out of it. I’m thinking that the goal needs to be planning ahead themes of the week or something like that, so I’ll always have a reference point when I’m starting a new article. Or maybe I should start writing more short stories again, and as long as I’m writing consistently I don’t need to worry so much about which day I’m publishing them? Again, I don’t really know. If I had the capacity to come up with or recognize a good idea, I would’ve had something to write about today.
Maybe I’ll circle back around and work on that lamp thing.