Fumbling for words to start my write-up…
Never have I floundered for vocabulary to express my ideas. However it was never the other way around. I was staring into the tiny pixels forming matrices on the LED display. Monday went by, Tuesday followed, Wednesday dawned but an idea never spawned! I went on a searching spree to find the incisive cure for my mental malady. Google articulated that it was a writer’s block. It occurs to writers giving them a dearth of ideas. Some blogs stated it as a sign of a waning career. I was really young to experience this. For one thing, I was only a waxing crescent. I had never matured as a writer to suffer from one. I turned to the traditional papyrus-pen style to provide me with a different ambience to etch my thoughts. After a day I found myself sitting around with a bunch of litters.
Very recently I assured myself that writing is my forte. But this time I wasn’t sure myself. My fingers were itching to create an appealing content but never did my brain seem to root their cause. To scribble something worthwhile wasn’t worth the while. Somehow I have instilled in myself a compelling feeling that nothing was worth writing. I felt the situation exacerbate as I was disappointed by a stringent of dismal performances in my verbal class. It was like having a dementor lurking. I saw the failed writer in me. Images of me ditching my blog, ending my prospects of a writer began to manifest. I should have ministered a verbal matrimony between adjectives and jargons . instead I was lighting a pyre to my verbal acumen.
Distraught, I turned to read my own works. To think nostalgia would save me was a flimsy idea. As I was skimming, I felt they had one thing mutual. I expressed my convictions in everyone of them. To express and to educate has always been my “why” to write. Compliments complemented with criticisms from people had surged the intensity to impress. I had developed an instinct to prove my class. This was never a writer’s block. An inner block has materialised curbing my intentions to express. As I pondered over this thought I made it to a point to express the way I was feeling now. I decided the only way out of this block is to keep things simple and write to express. Whether I defy people’s expectations or exceed them should never be a thorn in my flesh. I saw myself as a person who has terraformed his writing to prove himself.
Fumbling for words to start with my write-up…
Collaborating with caffeine now write how I was strangled by my very own “writer’s block”. To my surprise feel this worth every trice that passes. I feel the monkey is off my back. Ideas now incite my vocabulary. My typing instruments are off to a racy start. Strings and chars are charging like a bull while me the matador in perfect control . I finally fathomed the situation. I was bamboozled by my desire to prove myself. My failure to express ,plotted my Waterloo. I don’t write to prove. I write to express and educate.
Writing is instilled in your soul. When this Dementor of a “writer’s block” threatens to do away the writer in you just know what form your Patronas charm should take. Hence when you endure one, conjure buoyant images of the writer innate in you and yell”EXPRESSO PATRONAAM!!”