This is how I beat 'Writer's Block'
I wrote this on my other blog and was quite happy with it, so here I am, sharing my joy. :)
I need to write for myself.
I get withdrawal symptoms otherwise.
It's strange because, unlike other addictive things, withdrawal symptoms for writing occur much after you've stopped.
Your body exhausts every morsel of satisfaction you got from writing your last piece.And then, after about 6-8 months, it happens - the first pang.
Your thoughts are finding words, but the words are not reaching the word doc.
And when you attempt to put it down, there it is, the dreaded writer's block, staring you in the face.
What's writer's block?
I need to write for myself.
I get withdrawal symptoms otherwise.
It's strange because, unlike other addictive things, withdrawal symptoms for writing occur much after you've stopped.
Your body exhausts every morsel of satisfaction you got from writing your last piece.And then, after about 6-8 months, it happens - the first pang.
Your thoughts are finding words, but the words are not reaching the word doc.
And when you attempt to put it down, there it is, the dreaded writer's block, staring you in the face.
What's writer's block?
To me, it's the cursor blinking on a blank screen.
There's nothing that bothers me more than that jobless blinking cursor.
I get immense pleasure making him work.
So then, that's what I do.
Make him run, as my words catch up with him.
Then I pause to think and he gets time to rest.
But then I start typing and he starts running again.
Faster, faster! What fun!
By the time I'm done, I've filled my page with words.
Weaved a beautiful story.
And he has been relegated to the bottom of my screen where my attention won't go.
He thinks he's safe.
But then I hit enter!
And the cursor moves to the next page - again occupying the top of my screen.
He stares at me, but this time not as 'writer's block'.
Now, he fears me.
I look at him with an evil grin.
And he starts running again.
There's nothing that bothers me more than that jobless blinking cursor.
I get immense pleasure making him work.
So then, that's what I do.
Make him run, as my words catch up with him.
Then I pause to think and he gets time to rest.
But then I start typing and he starts running again.
Faster, faster! What fun!
By the time I'm done, I've filled my page with words.
Weaved a beautiful story.
And he has been relegated to the bottom of my screen where my attention won't go.
He thinks he's safe.
But then I hit enter!
And the cursor moves to the next page - again occupying the top of my screen.
He stares at me, but this time not as 'writer's block'.
Now, he fears me.
I look at him with an evil grin.
And he starts running again.
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