Creativity comes in seasons.
For a long time, I didn’t really understand writer’s block. I’m assuming it’s a little different for everyone, but the end result is similar … an inability to create.
For several months not a single creative thought has left my fingertips. I would sit and stare at my manuscript. It stared back. The manuscript taunted me. I tried. Creativity eluded me as I would try to edit the manuscript. But try as I might, the story failed to take shape in my mind.
For me, life planted itself like a giant tortoise in the middle of my path. Too big to move, to slow to cajole, life moves when it is good and ready and not a moment before.
Work took an interesting turn for me.
The funny thing is, for a while it felt like a vacation. But as time wore on, it weighed on me. I spiraled into a funk … I won’t say depression, but my brainpan was not in a good place. It was in this place that I found I couldn’t write. My mind wouldn’t stay on task. My thoughts wandered and not in a creative way, but instead in a plodding repetitive circle of unanswerable questions.
I found myself in the Horse Latitudes of creativity.
Luckily for me, I’m beginning to feel the faintest stirring of a breeze. Atom seems to be picking his head up and Margo is waking from her nap.
In that vein, I should have more to write here on the Busker.
The new D&D movie, a couple books I’m reading, even some thoughts on the science of interstellar travel are all dancing around waiting to find their way into the ether. If you have any thoughts on topics to tackle, feel free to comment below.
Otherwise, keep on reading, keep on walking, and keep on flying the Black