Aloha,
Hi, I’m Mark and I’m a Writer’s
Blockee.
It’s been three months since my last
written pages.
I’ve tried many remedies, including
cutting back on blog posts and return comments (sincere apologies to all who made the much appreciated effort to comment) but nothing has worked.
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Unimproved graffiti will be removed by Wed., May 7 |
I’m a Writer (with the big “W”) these
past eleven years, but always for someone else.
Now, I’m writing for myself, but Muse is taking a whupping from another voice, my Lose.
Lose encourages me to check (and recheck)
email, do the laundry, read the news, catch up on the Angels, (fall asleep in front of the computer) and do everything
but WIP during my nightly two-hour writing window.
A lot of this sounds
familiar to some and folks may want to leave a supportive comment (which again, I *do*
appreciate, but remember, I suck at the returns – unless it’s on Twitter… you can't beat
140 characters with a stick.)
And here, hidden in the middle of my humor, is the problem.
Actually, I know what the
bloody problem is: I’m too damn scared to write for ME.
(There. I feel better already... really needed to share that with you!)
So, I have a problem... now to find a solution...
Write 1,000 words a day.
Oh, that was easy - who said that?
Hold the therapy.
Like most writers reading this, there is nothing
more I want to do (professionally) than know people enjoy my words – and when I
am writing, there is nothing I enjoy more than melting into The Zone.
So, what’s the problem, you writerly
wimp?
By the way, Lose, the anti-muse (we’re
related on my mother’s side) is a former U.S. Marine Corps drill instructor I’ve
never met, but his heart is in the right place.)
Aloha, Lose... Er,
I’m scared that I suck worse than a giant gobstopper.
Bollix, blogger. You can do it.
Can
I quickly check see how many people unfollowed me in the last seventeen minutes?
NO! Drop down and give me 1,000. You
wussy writers are all the same. No SPAM in the can.
What
does that even mean?
I don’t know. You just made it up.
I
did?
You’re so insecure that my Grammar
could kick your arse.
Okay,
I can do this. I can, and I will.
Good, because I don’t like that
I’m hanging from a cliff like a dangling modifier.
The
happy.
What?
Nothing.
Okay, then. Good luck.
Ahh, thanks, Lose... you're not so bad after all.
I’m welcome.
[Bursts through mental barrier…] I look at Muse as if we were one...
Then, some upbeat music starts and I free the Muse (using a
yard blower to dust him off) before offering up a CliffsNotes energy bar.
Later that week, the former Lose was offered the chance to be a contestant on Dancing with the Stats. As he left, he offered the brain one final thought:
“Let’s. Write. This. People!"
(To Be Continued...)