Writer’s Block



I’ve been frustrated lately. Creatively frustrated. I’ve been mad at my computer for something it did not do. I’ve been angry about it’s blinking cursor and blank pages without words. I’ve felt dried up and uninspired. I thought maybe if  I went back to the fundamentals. You know, pen to paper. I put pen to paper and waited for something to happen. The only thing that happened was that I scribbled and scrabbled and got even more frustrated.

I’ve words and stories a-plenty in my brain, swirling about in a never ending vortex. I just can’t get a good connection between my brain and my fingers. I’ve tried all the usual suspects to no avail.

I’m discouraged with my inconsistency. My last blog did really well in terms of views and visitors. I think I’ve gotten intimidated by it. Doubts and insecurities can wreak havoc on one’s creativity. I came to the conclusion that I should write about being uninspired and insecure and all those things going on with me.

I’ve sat down numerous times with my computer and determination only to be let down. I’ve put on my game face, tightened my ponytail, and set my teeth only to give myself a headache. In this case, headache leads to heartache because I am disappointed in myself.

After searching WordPress, I’ve found I’m not alone. There are lots of creators out there with brains and hearts on hiatus. I found I’ve been more inspired these past few hours from the one thing that calms and helps always. Reading.

I wish that I could say I’ve been reading something new, but I can’t. I’ve discovered in recent years that I am a rereader. I’m not sure that’s a word. Microsoft Word says no, but I’m going with it. I’ve been reading something that I’ve already read and using it as a comfort. There’s no anxiety, no rush, no suspense. It’s just me and old friends I’ve known for a while taking a stroll down memory lane. It’s reading words that are familiar and seeing something new in the pages.

Stress is more than likely a factor in all this. I find the best stress relief is to go from cover to cover. It’s like a salve for achy head and heart.

I’ve been writing more fiction in private than things I wish to share on my blog. I love my blog. I’m proud of it. However, I’ve recently alienated myself from it. I’m not happy about this and intend to change it. Hitting a brick wall when you want to be on an open highway is frustrating to say the least. I’m slowly taking a pickaxe to it. Please be patient. I’m undertaking an uphill battle in my writing life. There is so much I want to say, and my brain is failing me.



My resolutions for 2017.

We’re drawing close to the end of the year, and I’ve been thinking about resolutions and what 2018 holds in store. I’m bracing for the worst and hoping for the best on that front. 

Thanksgiving made me think of what I’ve accomplished this year. I remembered that at the beginning of 2017, I made a list of resolutions that were reasonable and within reach. A teacher once told me that accomplishing a list of small goals can lead to fulfilling big goals. Good advice, I think. 

So, did I accomplish my goal list? 

Well, I started a blog. I did write more. I did write more for myself. I do write almost everyday; even if it’s just scribbling a note of something I like, writing down a plot idea, or a blog thought. I’ve found that several intended blog posts have been stashed in my back pocket. After writing them and reading over them, they felt too personal. I felt like I wasn’t quite ready to share those. However, I hope they will find themselves here eventually. 

I did read more. I joined a book club, and that helped. It’s been a wonderful experience and has helped to diversify my reading. Along with meeting all my book buddies and getting their varying opinions on books, I’ve broadened my social life. 

Make more time for the things I enjoy. That one is tricky. I suppose since my favorite things are reading and writing, I achieved that one as well. 

Be a better me. I feel like the last few years have really helped develope who I am as a person. I’m finding more of where I fit into the world and the impact I want to make on it. With the blog, I’m finding my voice, so to speak. My opinions are more easily shared, and I find I’m more outspoken.

I’ve done many things I’m proud of this year. I do yoga. I’m in a book club. I have a blog. I did a big Thanksgiving meal mostly on my own. I’ve learned a lot. Most importantly, I’ve held it together. 

Here’s to hoping next year brings more firsts, more accomplishments, and more joy.

What accomplishments are you proud of from 2017? What are the goals you most want to meet? I’d like to know.  ☺

5 Things I’d Tell Myself 10 Years Ago

Saturday I turned thirty one. Thirty one is an unremarkable age. It’s not an important one like twenty one or eighteen or sixteen. People look forward to those. It’s not awful either. It’s not like thirty. People seem to think their life is over at thirty. Thirty really didn’t shake me.

At twenty one, I’d just lost my twins. Everything shifted. My life has not been the same.

I was at war with myself over my identity. I was pushing myself to be like other people and not who I wanted to be.

Tony and I made a pact that at twenty one, we’d go to the casino together just to say we’d been. We didn’t go. We discussed it later, but still ten years have passed and we still have not been.

If I could go back and talk to my twenty one year old self knowing what I know now, I would enlighten myself on many things.

  1. Read and write. A lot. Stop wasting your time on things that do not matter. I know it’s hard right now, but writing will heal you. This is what you need to do for you. I know you think you are writing, but it’s not nearly enough.You’ve got better stuff in you. You’re neglecting your reading. Diversify your reading.The library is free and within walking distance. No excuses.
  2. Go see a doctor. You and Tony both have things you need to nip in the bud. Also, I know you work at a fish house, but eat healthier. More veggies. Exercise.
  3. You have several toxic people in your life. Weed them out. You know who they are. Pay close attention to how they treat you. Don’t stand for that. You’ll be better for it.
  4. Think for yourself. Some of the opinions you have right now aren’t your own but those of other people and things that have been drilled into you. Read. It’ll help with the opinions. You owe it to yourself to decide for yourself.
  5. Go back to school. You’ll do this later. It’ll be great, but now is the perfect time. While working nights, your days are free. You’ll appreciate the accomplishment.

I could actually write a detailed book for my past self about traveling from then to now, but I suppose all those things helped me get to where I am now. I have nice, tight group of friends. I do regular yoga classes and am a member of a book club. I am still happily in a marriage that many people said would never last. I have a job I enjoy with people who appreciate me. I am at a place where I’m not wondering who I am supposed to be. I’m pretty happy with my world right now. Thirty one is looking good.


Do Your Heartwork

I was admiring a drawing a friend of mine did recently. I told her she did lovely artwork. She told me it was because she did the work from her heart. I said, “So, it’s your heartwork.” She laughed and said that she hadn’t thought of it that way, but yes, it was.

I remember my friend, La Rue, telling me to work at what I love and do good work. She said it was important to carve out time to do what has meaning to you and to work at it. She gives good advice. If I did not make time to write or read, I would probably die. Maybe not physically, but emotionally and spiritually I would wither.

I went through a period where I did not write. I did not pick up a pen. I tried not to create in my head. I abstained completely. At the time, I did not realize just how miserable I was. I was lonely for characters that lived only in my mind and longed for words. I needed to create and do good work. It makes life bearable.

When I don’t have an outlet, I feel like I’m imprisoned in myself. It’s odd to think about it, but when I write, it’s like I’m plucking thorns from my skin. I need to do it so that the wound can heal. When Tony and I were dating, I wrote him letters all the time. Sometimes more than once a day. Sometimes, they were several pages long. And bless his nonreading heart, he read every word. I’ve never been great at verbalizing what I want to say, and it was my way of telling him how I felt. His taking the time to read them was his way of telling me how he felt.

Writing is what I do to deal with my reality as much as reading is what I do to escape it. It keeps me sane.

So, do your heartwork. Whatever that may be. Create. Run. Save lives. Write. Be a good parent. Whatever you love being in your life. Be that. Whatever you love doing in your life. Do that.