Writer’s Block. You often hear this term mentioned as if that inner mechanism that helps writers spew out strings of meaningful words is somehow turned off. Stuck. Out of order until further notice.
This may happen at times, but for me, it goes much deeper than that.
Personally, I can always write. Give me a blank journal page, and I’ll ask enough questions to figure out how I’m thinking and the reason for it. My handwritten notes are part prayer and part praise. A partial download of the heaviest parts of the previous day, along with a partial discovery of what may come. Ideas come and go. Triumphs and failures intermingle to form stepping stones to something bigger and better than before. The only obstacles that may halt my handwritten rants are the calendar or a tight schedule, a knock at the door to remind me what time it is and where I’m supposed to be.
Using this method, writing comes like breathing. It’s how I process, as refreshing as taking a walk.
The end result is words splashed everywhere – never meant to be seen by the naked eye. Definitely not by others. These words would make no sense to anyone but me. At times, they are barely legible. Still, they are breadcrumbs for me to find my way back to who I’m supposed to be and whatever I’m supposed to be creating.
Ahh, creating. That’s where the trouble lies.
More than Writer’s Block, I experience what I refer to as creative droughts – periods of time where it’s all I can do to keep up with reality.
Life has a way of taking us through intense seasons of survival. Circumstances that require all our efforts, imagination, and strength to overcome and push through. During these moments, our orbit is off. Our footing is shaky at best. And often, we can’t even comprehend the details of exactly what happened until much later.
For me, it’s impossible to create anything new during such a time as this. I simply don’t have anything left to offer.
But that’s okay.
Because inside, I’m growing and learning and experiencing new depths of healing. As I learn to overcome in my own story, my external creations and characters can only become stronger as well. During times of heavy trials, my fictional characters are silent. Like a good friend, they wait until I’m ready.
I believe our best writing, or creativity of any kind, comes as we find our way out of such a fog.
Maybe it’s grief. Maybe it’s exhaustion, betrayal, or family struggles. A diagnosis with no clear answers.
Whatever the personal burden, there’s a greater story coming from it. Coming through it.
Honest, pure and without filters.
Authentic in every way.
And very much worth the wait.
Janet Morris Grimes
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