A roadblock I think a lot of writers find themselves running into is the ever large lack of inspiration boulder. It’s not that there aren’t plenty of things to inspire, but sometimes the inspiration doesn’t fit the moment. Sometimes, the inspiration fades before you have a moment to use it. You find yourself searching for hints of earlier inspiration, piecing them together with a portion of what they once were.
When reading back my writing, I can see clear pictures of moments I was inspired. My words are more articulate. My desire to describe every detail is penned out. I can often feel my character’s experience in the words. On the other hand the moments I struggled to get through I can see myself rushing to get to the next exciting part. That writers block is a tough boulder to move, but unfortunately it is one you have to move.
Inspiration can surround you, but I think often times it doesn’t always agree with personal desire. Often I feel really happy but I’m on the death scene of a special character. I struggle to find that tone of sorrow needed to complete the scene. This is only an excuse though. In reality I just tell myself that because I’ve got writers block. I think different emotions can actually build up the scenes being written.
Writers block is a good word. Its a blockage, a clog in the sink. Nothings going through it until the blockage is move. Its not writers blister, or writers flu, its not just going to go away with some rest or a good ointment. Writers block is something to me move. Pushing through isn’t necessary, even a clogged sink will eventually drain, but if you don’t fix the block you’ll eventually fill it to the top again and be left waiting.
Pushing through writers block can create beautiful scenes. Think of a moment meant to be filled with sadness written by someone filled with joy. To a reader, the confusion they must feel reading a sad story but feeling a hint of joy behind the words. Or fear when you’re excited, peace when you are angry. The mix of emotions is like wildflowers in a field of hay. They may not always work, but when they do your left with emotions, no one can truly describe.
Jacob Gittins 