So I’ve dedicated time in my schedule to write a new entry or two for this blog. I’m ready, willing, just not able at the moment. I seem to have a form of writer’s block that I wouldn’t be the first to coin blogger’s block. So instead of writing about anything meaningful, I thought it best to blog about my block.
Why I’m mentally blocked when it comes to blogging:
a. Topic tantrum – I’m having a fit deciding on my next topic. There are a million things I could speak to, but none of them are speaking to me at the moment (which is the most important). I came incredibly close to posting a social experiment of sort, but I’m not quite sure that I’m ready for the consequences. So it’s saved in draft form for that night when I have a few too many glasses of wine and it seems (again) like a brilliant idea.
b. Problem of the platform – My mood is more myspace, more raw and uncensored. I want to write about the taboo; the deep dark secrets that no one knows. This is isn’t the right place for that, unless I change this blog to private too, and my date book specifically says “write for the rabbit-hole”. Argh!
c. Insipid inspiration – Vapid in that it’s nonexistent. I need to be passionate about my writing. I need to be stimulated and craving the release of the written word. Trying to stuff scintillating story-telling into a sliver of time just doesn’t work for me.
So I’ll take this as a lesson learned. I will promise (to myself) to no longer force creativity in a predefined two hour block of time. I’ll let my mind and my experiences serve as my muse and force my calendar to make adjustments accordingly.
Okay time’s up. Next on the agenda: evening run.
