Writer's Block

There's no easy way to combat writer's block, that much is obvious. But when I find myself staring at an empty page, or a necessary but almost stagnant part of a work-in-progress, all the advice on beating writer's block goes out the window. There's nothing to be said--literally: in the story or out of it.

And I accomplish SO much outside of the four corners of the page on which I'm stuck, but those victories (a clean closet, a waxed car, a seventeen page scrapbook) lose their luster when I realize that, as soon as I'm out of distractions, I have to return to the page and come to terms with my incompetencies.

That is so scary.

That is life, too.

And if you look at it from life's perspective, if you follow that metaphor for a while, you realize the way to go is not to seek distractions, because distraction from life is death sooner. Distraction from life is the planning for the future, the figuring it out, the working endlessly to have a good lifestyle only to realize when you're retired it wasn't what you wanted in the first place. So, too, is writer's block.

So there are two ways to go, I guess. I can accomplish a million insignificant things in search of the next big thing, the newest inspiration, and hope that inspiration takes me further toward success than the problem piece, OR, I can plod through the rough stuff, trust that I'll get through it, grow from the miseries that accompany me while I plod, and come out at the end and stare back with deep satisfaction.

Satisfaction not necessarily in the end result, but in the journey.

And while that's not a helpful answer or a secret trick or a get-rich-quick scheme, that's sometimes the best there is. Plod on.

I've forgotten if I'm talking about writer's block or life.

I suppose they're interchangeable.