days with no words

It's back again. It's been a while.

This is no seductive mistress. There is nothing glamorous about it at all. It is plain and unwashed and, similar to Benjamin Franklin's observation of houseguests who won't leave, it stinks. 

But at least today, I have words.

No, it's not writer's block --I've written about that in the past. Writer's block is a seductive mistress, comparatively. If you'd like some ideas on how to overcome that, please feel free to follow the link. That's really no big thing to work past, if you're a writer. 

Impostor syndrome (which I have also written about) is a bit more difficult, but that's not what this is. The way to work past that is keep writing and damn the internal and external critics while still trying to improve.

This is the total absence of words and an inability to see much of anything at all, except possibly nothing. 

If you are familiar with this condition --and I think writers tend toward this as they are sensitive, creative types --you know that words do not come easily at times like these. These are times for feelings and wishes that everything would just stop.

I made it to today. At least today, I have words.

I am writing this to tell what ...not worked. Distracted me? Distracted me.

I tried reading, thinking that someone else could provide some words when I had none. It did not work. In truth, I couldn't process words at all --not spoken, not written, not heard, not read.

Eventually, I settled on doodling. No words. Lines. Circles. Over and over and over. I wanted to fill pages, and so, I had to keep busy in order to do that. I could not think of anything except where to put my next line, my next circle. Repetitive actions are soothing. Knitting or worry beads or zen gardens would serve the same purpose. Doodling was it for me.

After doodling, I worked my way toward drawing --nothing technical. Just trying to put the lines and curves in the right place, going the right direction. I drew animals, some of the ones I wrote poems about a long time ago: a jellyfish, a cicada, a white worm. Details take you away from the larger thing that looms and steals your thoughts.

I think it is okay to admit there are times to take breaks from writing and from words. There are times, as human beings, when language is too much. It is okay to step back in order to be able to step forward again. I am a human being, first and foremost, and I write because I love it. I am a writer when I write, but at times, like recently, I cannot be a writer --I cannot write --and it is because I am working on getting myself to a place where I can function. I am a human being first. And that's okay.

And today, I have a few words.

Here's wishing you many words when they come.