It’s been a while since I looked at this digital equivalent of a blank paper and felt the need to fill it with letters, numbers, and/or graphics. Seems to me that it happens to everyone at some point or another, and everyone handles it a little bit differently.
Some folks come to the end of their mental diarrhea and post old stuff again, which honestly I think is great. It’s a good way to keep the momentum without letting the ol’ creative factory dry up too much.
My problem though, when I don’t have anything to say, it’s not just that I don’t want to say anything, it’s that I actually WANT to say NOTHING. I just tried to come up with an analogy about how I need to just back off a while, let thoughts pile up in my mental in-box, let them sit, sink in, mix together, ferment and then I can dump them out all over my six or seven outlets… but it sounded dumb and obvious. So I tried coming up with another one. Still was unsatisfactory. I elected to just tell you what happened instead.
Yet… Somehow, that seems to have worked. Gave you something to read, that got the point across, and wasn’t very creative… but it was something to say, I suppose.
I was reading something about different kinds of writers block over here and I think he’s right. It’s there for a reason. Your mind telling you enough is enough, take a break or you’re just going to spew a bunch of nonsense that people aren’t going to care about, and then when you get your muse back you’ll just end up re-working it over and over to finally come up with something that works, although would have been just as good and taken less effort had you just waited in the first place…
Of course, he’s talking about writing books, in which case, you sort of HAVE to stay with that one particular style. You started a book about banana cream sandwiches that take over the world, you can’t simply just start writing about something else… Or, more to the point, you can, and probably should, but most likely there’s a deadline on it or you actually have to eventually finish it, or nobody will ever know how to defeat banana cream sandwiches. …but this is just a blog. It doesn’t matter from one post to another, so much… Hell, I can even leave the “b” in “but” at the beginning of the last sentence a lowercase, and I don’t have to listen to an editor bitch about, cause it’s mine and it doesn’t matter.
…It’s really bothering me though. I’m going to leave it because I wrote a whole few dozen words about it, but I need you to know it’s like ignoring an itch, for me.
So, why write anything, if you have nothing in particular you want to write about? I’m glad you asked.
Sometimes I find that I have nothing to write about, because I’m sitting here, thinking that I
have nothing left to write about. I like to think of a glass vessel (in my head, it’s a carboy, one of those big glass jugs that people brew beer in, but that’s because that’s what I’ve been doing lately. If you’re a little more refined int he cortex, feel free to picture a vase or a beaker or whatever you like…) and it fills with stuff. Thoughts, specifically, but for the purpose of this analogy, how bout liquids… Water, oil, syrup, etc… Each substance is a collection of thoughts that are similar to one another… The red oil is thoughts about family, the water is thoughts about work, and so on.Over time, there are so many different things in there that you can see all the layers of strata. A thin later about getting the kid to school in the mornings, a thin later about cooking dinner, a thin layer about work, a thin later… ok, not so thin later about beer… slowly they mix, and become a fat layer about life in general and my mind starts to work them together into blog posts about how the thick later beer makes getting up one morning and getting the kid to school difficult so I’m late to work… and can’t wait for dinner.
So right now, my carboy is filled with fact, and not so much analogy or philosophy or observation. Just things that happened, and things that are. Perhaps at one point they were observation and philosophy, but I guess they fermented and became simple statement of fact.
The problem with fact is that unless they’re interesting… well… they aren’t interesting. So when you stare at the hazy grey dishwater of fact, it really doesn’t feel like any large amount of worthy cohesive thought.
Lately, I’ve been working, and… that’s about it. I did brew a beer, a porter, but there was nothing outstanding about the process, and right now it’s sitting in the living room bubbling once a minute or so, and … and nothing. and that’s it.
So. I’m hoping that by pouring this pile of “who cares” all over the place, I have cleared some room in my cranial carboy for other thoughts to come bubbling to the forefront, so I can get back into the swing of this.