Week 17: Buffer through Writer's Block

Some may say I have writer's block.

Lately, I don't feel as inspired as I usually do. I spend more time reading than doing any other writing related activity. I attempt an outline and find myself intrigued by multiple directions a story could take. Perhaps she discovers her husband is having an affair. Perhaps she discovers her husband is having an affair with a python hunter. Perhaps her husband's python hunting paramour is actually someone trying to get close to the main character. Perhaps the main character becomes a python hunter.

I could keep going with any permutation of idea. The same goes for poetry. Maybe this tuft of poems could be a collection or a chapbook or maybe I need to work on it longer. Maybe I should just print up the poems and hold them and look at them. Once I do that, everything will be clearer!

Haters will say I'm blocked. And by haters, that could mean naysayers, lookie-loos with no intent to support, or (more than likely), my inner critic.

I say I'm buffering and I say this because I don't believe in writer's block. On any given day, writers are tormented souls. We consider stories, sentences, words, meter, rhythm, syllabic intonation, theme, symbolism, point of view, among all the other moving parts of life that don't stop moving just because we're writing.

So now, with so much life moving around me, how can I possibly stop long enough to find the clear path forward on a story or a poem? I don't know if it's possible. I know this world will tell us we need to hurry up with everything. If we don't hurry, then someone else will take that spot, that idea, that publication. But what if we need to stop, if not simply to finish the buffering process?

And, even if I did push myself, the writing ends up feeling forced, so there's no way to win. I'm in a season of surrender. I'm not blocked, wondering where the words. I'm waiting for them to fall at my side so I can pick them up and put them on the page where they belong.